If I Knew Then: What I would Tell My 25-Year-Old Self About Business and Faith

Building a company can feel like sprinting on shifting sand. You add more plans, more metrics, more hours—yet somehow gain less clarity about what actually matters. Early on, the pressure is intoxicating. Growth becomes the goal, speed becomes the virtue, and outcomes quietly begin to define your worth.

If I could sit across from my 25‑year‑old self, this would be the first reset I’d offer: success is not your identity; it’s a tool.

When outcomes rule your sense of value, you pay hidden costs. Health erodes. Marriages strain. Integrity gets negotiated. What looks like progress on paper can be decay beneath the surface. Success is like fire: in the fireplace, it warms the house; outside the hearth, it burns it down. The difference isn’t the fire—it’s the boundaries.

We don’t need more hustle. We need a better blueprint—one that puts character, wisdom, and obedience ahead of speed. Leaders rarely fail for lack of data. They fail when assumptions go unchallenged and ego pours concrete on a flawed foundation. Speed without wisdom doesn’t build a house; it collapses one. Slow down long enough to build right, so the weight of growth doesn’t crush you later.


Who You’re Becoming Matters More Than What You’re Building

Here’s the deeper shift I wish I’d embraced sooner: God cares more about who you’re becoming than what you’re building.

Resumes don’t impress heaven; transformation does. We love to measure traction—revenue, reach, results—while God measures obedience, humility, and faithfulness. Skills may open doors, but character determines how long you’re trusted in the room.

That’s why delays aren’t always punishment. Often, they’re protection.

The version of you that launches a business is rarely the version meant to lead it at scale. Capacity expands as maturity deepens. Spiritual formation stretches leadership far beyond talent alone. Growth requires surrender, not just strategy. If you gain the world yet lose your soul, your scoreboard is wrong—and the prize becomes a prison.

When success becomes ultimate, it demands sacrifices it can never repay. When God is ultimate, success becomes a servant instead of a master.


Obedience Comes Before Clarity

One of the most counterintuitive truths in leadership is this: obedience precedes clarity.

Many of us demand a five‑year plan when God often gives only the next step. Think headlights on a dark road—they illuminate just enough pavement to keep moving, not the entire journey. Overplanning can disguise fear as wisdom, breeding analysis paralysis while opportunities quietly pass by.

Courageous leaders act on the light they have.

Each obedient step expands vision, strengthens resolve, and aligns timing. Direction comes before destination. The guarantee isn’t certainty—it’s presence. As you practice this, anxious control gives way to steady trust. You discover that clarity is usually a byproduct of faithful motion, not perfect information.

Waiting for full clarity before moving is often a subtle refusal to trust.


Rest Is Not Laziness—It’s Theology

On work rhythms, this is the truth I resisted the longest: overwork is not a badge of honor; often it’s a confession that we trust hustle more than God’s provision.

Rest is not laziness. It’s theology.

Sabbath confronts performance‑based identity and reminds us that we are not what we produce. It declares that the world—and the business—can survive without us for a moment. Companies that model this make courageous choices, sometimes at real cost: closing one day a week, enforcing healthy boundaries, protecting margin.

Redlining an engine might win a lap, but it never wins the race. Burnout, turnover, and poor judgment always follow. A healthy pace clarifies what’s urgent versus what’s truly important. Leaders who protect rest make better decisions, build better teams, and finish the race with something left in the tank.

Sustainable leadership requires rhythms, not just resolve.


People Are Not a Means to an End

Results matter. But people are eternal.

If you punish mistakes publicly, you teach teams to hide problems. You may hit targets and still miss the mission. Fear can force compliance, but only trust builds commitment. Metrics track output; relationships unlock ownership.

Invest in people. Develop them. See them.

Multiplication always beats pressure for sustainable growth. Jesus led patiently with imperfect, messy learners—and changed the world. High‑performing but high‑turnover cultures run hot and die early. People‑first leadership builds legacy that lasts.

If your success requires leaving a trail of wounded people behind you, it isn’t success—it’s extraction.


Your Words Build the World Others Live In

Leadership is verbal stewardship. Every word plants seeds.

Your language shapes culture the way a rudder steers a ship. Speak life, not scarcity. Hope, not fear. Truth, not hype. Culture isn’t declared; it’s grown through daily language and consistent action.

And remember this: private victories write public legacy.

Integrity in hidden places—honesty when no one’s watching, generosity without applause, restraint when compromise is easier—becomes the foundation no one sees yet everyone stands on. Long before a leader falls publicly, they drift privately.

Guard the unseen, and the seen will take care of itself.


Three Questions I Wish I’d Asked Sooner

If I could leave my younger self with anything, it would be these questions—questions worth revisiting often:

  1. What version of success am I chasing?
  2. Where am I substituting activity for obedience?
  3. Who am I becoming while I build?

Build the business. Grow the company. Chase excellence.

Just don’t let the business build you.

Because in the end, the truest measure of success isn’t what you achieved—it’s who you became while achieving it.

From Faith To Fulfillment: The Journey of A Mature and Complete Business Leader

True leadership is not a sprint toward flawless performance; it is a steady journey toward completeness in Christ that touches every choice we make at work and at home. When we talk about maturity in a biblical sense, we mean wholeness—an integrated life that reflects God’s character in decisions, culture, and results. That kind of leadership does not separate Sunday beliefs from Monday meetings. It invites Scripture into forecasting, hiring, vendor ethics, and how we handle pressure. The result is a different definition of success: seeking God’s kingdom first, measuring impact by faithfulness and service, and trusting that excellence follows alignment. Leaders who embrace this path often find that peace replaces frantic striving, clarity steadies complex choices, and influence grows because people can feel the difference when love, humility, and integrity set the tone. This is not about avoiding hard edges; it is about sharpening them with wisdom that lasts when markets shift and plans fail.

The first anchor of complete leadership is wisdom from God. James promises that if we ask, He gives generously, and leaders need that promise more than an optimized dashboard. Financial pressure, ethical dilemmas, and team conflict rarely present neat answers. Prayerful reflection and steady exposure to Scripture train our judgment the way repetition trains muscle memory. One practical rhythm is to read a chapter of Proverbs daily, letting its short, punchy counsel recalibrate our instincts on honesty, fairness, and restraint. Over time, this cadence acts like internal guardrails: we notice when pride creeps in, when quick wins tempt us toward shortcuts, and when our words risk harm. Wisdom does not replace analysis; it refines it. It forces us to ask whether a decision honors people, keeps commitments, and aligns with long-term stewardship rather than short-term optics. This reliance on God’s wisdom is the quiet engine of resilient leadership.

Holiness and integrity follow as the visible frame of a leader’s character. We cannot manufacture holiness, yet we can choose practices that reflect the grace already given to us—clean books, clear contracts, honest timelines, and the courage to say no when a deal asks us to blur lines. Integrity builds compounding trust with employees, clients, and suppliers, and trust reduces friction in every process. It also draws a bright line when costliness appears: honoring a warranty beyond convenience, owning a mistake before it spreads, and refusing to mimic competitors’ questionable tactics. The point is not moral theater; it is coherent worship. Work done in the light is both excellent and evangelistic, signaling that our hope does not rest on hustle alone. Teams learn faster inside truthful cultures. Customers return when promises mean something. And our own souls stay steady because we are not juggling hidden compromises.

Humility is the posture that keeps integrity from turning into self-righteousness. Humble leaders see their role as stewardship, not self-promotion. They listen without defensiveness, share credit freely, and absorb blame when needed. This posture is not weakness; it is clarity about where gifts come from and who we serve. Humility cools hot rooms, opens space for better ideas, and builds a bench of leaders who feel seen and safe to grow. A humble CEO will ask the quiet engineer for input, spotlight frontline wins, and learn from lost deals without scapegoats. Over time, humility becomes a competitive advantage because it accelerates learning and loyalty. As C. S. Lewis put it, humility is thinking of yourself less, not thinking less of yourself. Leaders who practice that distinction create cultures where excellence is collaborative and durable.

Trials then become classrooms rather than verdicts. James teaches us to welcome hardship as a forge for perseverance, and business provides plenty of heat: missed targets, market disruptions, team fractures, and personal fatigue. If we meet those moments with faith and grit, perseverance forms muscle we cannot gain any other way. The key is to see challenges as opportunities to deepen reliance on God, refine processes, and recommit to first principles. A setback can tighten customer focus, clarify product value, and expose bloat we tolerated when times were easy. Perseverance also humanizes leaders. When we are honest about pressure and still steady in hope, our people learn how to stand. Customers, too, notice companies that do not panic, overpromise, or hide. Perseverance turns storms into stories that teach the next generation how to navigate with courage and patience.

Love and compassion make maturity visible in everyday leadership. Jesus’ command to love one another reframes performance as service—people before profit, without neglecting excellence. Love looks like caring for employee well-being, resolving conflict with grace, designing policies that honor families, and treating customers as neighbors rather than sources of revenue.

Strive to be complete and mature in Christ and watch your personal and professional life soar.