Prepare The Way Movement

I wake up.

First thing, I head to the bathroom. I look in the mirror and see a red bump under my eye—a scratch left over from yesterday, when I was picking at a piece of skin beneath it.

Then the dogs are calling. Charlie woke me up, and with him, that usually means it’s urgent. He doesn’t give multiple warnings before taking matters into his own paws, so I rush him and Blue outside into the yard.

I feed the dogs, come back upstairs, and collapse onto the bed. I reach for my phone, scrolling, letting my mind drift wherever it wants. I’d planned to try to catch a little more sleep—I went to bed late last night, and I’m tired—but then Blue starts barking. It’s too early for barking. So I go back outside, corral the dogs into the shed, and settle them into their crates. They usually stay quiet once they’re in there.

My alarm goes off for the nap I never took. Just another reminder of how much I manage to cram into the spaces where rest was supposed to be.

I know rest is vital. Yet I live in extremes. Sometimes I fear that I rest too much. Other times, I’m convinced I’m working too hard. I’m constantly trying to find balance, but it seems to slip through my fingers no matter how tightly I try to hold on.

When I lose my balance, I try to return to what I know brings order. The disciplines of faith. The wisdom God has given us to set things right.

But I keep asking myself: Do I truly believe Him?

Most mornings, before I even acknowledge the Living God, I’m already prioritizing the cares of this world. I go on autopilot: planning, reacting, responding to whatever comes my way. I don’t pause to acknowledge the Lord.

I don’t want to live that way.

Yet that’s how I’ve spent most of my life living—following the pattern I’ve seen in everyone around me. That’s my default mode, unless I intentionally practice something different.

But the Bible tells me plainly:

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10, KJV)

It tells me:

“But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.” (Matthew 6:33, KJV)

So what should I be doing?

Being still.

By being still, we come into knowledge. By experiencing God first, we gain true understanding. We should be seeking—seeking Him first. And all those other cares that feel so urgent when I first open my eyes in the morning? Those things will be taken care of.

“Cast thy burden upon the LORD, and he shall sustain thee: he shall never suffer the righteous to be moved.” (Psalm 55:22, KJV)

I know we have responsibilities. I know there are things that must get done. But when I begin my day without first acknowledging the Lord as the sovereign caretaker of my steps, my life is out of order before my feet even hit the ground.

Instead, I’m staring at my phone, worrying about the bump under my eye, thinking about the dogs, thinking about everything except Him.

That is not how I want to start my day.

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But even as I say I want something different, a question keeps nagging at me: Where do I seek the Kingdom of Heaven?

I think I’m seeking it already. Living my life the way I am, trying to figure out what I want, what I like, chasing glimpses of heaven in comfort, pleasure, or achievement.

But the truth is—I’m not seeking it at all.

I’ve been believing a lie.

The things I’m doing are not going to add the things I’m looking to add to my life. I’m entangled too deeply in the cares of this world before I even acknowledge the Living God. I’m seeking the promises of this world—the things it tells me will satisfy me, bring me peace, give me identity. But they don’t offer what I’m truly searching for.

“For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36, KJV)

From the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed, my mind is broken.

And I have to ask myself: How do I fix that?

My mind is obsessed with the cares of this world, so much so that it pushes out God. That’s the real brokenness.

“Set your affection on things above, not on things on the earth.” (Colossians 3:2, KJV)

The sick need a physician. A mental patient cannot prescribe his own medication or write his own prescription. Unwell people do not know the diagnosis that will make them well. Wellness changes unwellness. Good fruit comes from a good tree. You cannot get good fruit from a bad tree.

“Either make the tree good, and his fruit good; or else make the tree corrupt, and his fruit corrupt: for the tree is known by his fruit.” (Matthew 12:33, KJV)

My diagnosis requires a prescription if I’m ever going to achieve wellness.

So where could I go to get better? Who could help me diagnose and heal the brokenness in how I start my day—and how I live my life?

This isn’t just my problem. It’s the problem of humanity. It’s what we do as a society. We chase the world’s answers for peace, purpose, fulfillment, and identity, believing the next thing we achieve or acquire will finally fix us.

But who can prescribe the cure for this kind of sickness?

The help I’d need would have to come from someone who is well. Someone who isn’t broken the way I am. Someone able to diagnose me accurately and prescribe the way back to life.

Finding somebody worthy—someone or something worthy and able to spare me from my unwellness, from my broken mind that keeps leading me to search for joy outside of where joy truly exists—that’s the real search.

Because here’s the truth: the person who can help me must be both able and willing.

They would have to care. They would have to love me enough to desire to save me from my condition. That’s not optional. That’s a requirement. An unwell person cannot make himself well. I need a diagnosis. I need a script.

And not only does this person need to care and love me enough to want to save me—they must also possess the knowledge and power to actually do it.

This is why Jesus stands alone.

Jesus said, Here I am. And He gave us the reason why He is the source of what we’re looking for. He said:

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” (John 3:16, KJV)

That’s the reason. And that’s the requirement I need.

I need somebody who cares about me enough to pull me out of my condition. And Jesus said that God is that source. That God loved the world so much that He gave His only begotten Son—that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but shall be saved.

“For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Luke 19:10, KJV)

He made a way. He loved us. He cared for us enough to send His Son to perform what was necessary to save us.

Jesus is the only one who offers what we truly need.

Because He alone walked through the sickness without ever becoming unwell. Even to the point of death, there is nothing we can bring to Him that He cannot understand.

“For we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15, KJV)

He overcame every single pain and challenge that He experienced.

“These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33, KJV)

He knows the way.

Because He is the Way.

“Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” (John 14:6, KJV)

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So this is where it all circles back to the beginning.

How I start my day is how I live my life.

If I start my day without acknowledging Him, I’m running the same old program, searching for life in places where it doesn’t exist. I’m looking to the world to give me peace it cannot provide.

But if I start my day with Him—if I pause to be still, to acknowledge the Living God, to seek first His kingdom—then everything changes.

Because the One who is well—the One who is Life itself—has offered me His prescription. He has offered me Himself.

He is able. He is willing. He loves me enough to save me. And He has the power to actually do it.

And if I follow Him, even in the smallest choices of how I begin each day, I’m no longer living the same broken story.

“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6, KJV)

That is how I want to start my day.

And that is how I want to live my life.