When I think about discipleship, I think about those Thursday mornings at 6 AM in Florida, sitting across from a man who poured into me for a year. He told me to read Isaiah—three or four chapters at a time—and every week, I showed up completely confused.

"Are you going to tell me what I just read?" I’d ask.

There are certain moments in life when you realize you’re part of something much bigger than yourself. One of those moments for me came in 2021 when I was invited to the Florida Capitol by Speaker Chris Sprowls. I stood outside at the podium with 40 legislators, speaking about the importance of fatherhood and the work Man Up and Go was doing to support it. And then, right after that, they went inside and voted unanimously—117 to 0—to pass House Bill 7065.

Looking back on my school years, I can pinpoint a few teachers who truly made a lasting impact on me. One of the most memorable was my 12th-grade English teacher, Mr. Hartman.

Now, Mr. Hartman was infamous for giving out terrible grades. I thought I had English in the bag—I enjoyed writing and assumed I’d breeze through his class. So you can imagine my shock when my first paper came back with a big, fat 'F' on it. I’ll admit I was livid and thought it was completely inappropriate. But instead of writing me off or feeding my frustration, he challenged me. “You’re in 12th grade, buddy. You’ve got more to learn.”

For most of my life, my identity was wrapped up in what I could do. I was an athlete. A competitor. Someone who could contribute through my performance. Football, in particular, gave me a sense of purpose. For four years in college, it structured my days, demanded my best, and in return, gave me confidence and belonging. But then it was over. And I wasn’t prepared for what came next.