For a long time, I thought the problem in my life was everyone else. I was stubborn, prideful, demanding, and convinced that if everyone around me would just do better, things would be fine. I worked long hours as a truck driver for Coca-Cola, often gone from home and exhausted when I returned. My wife had become a stay-at-home mom after daycare costs became too much, and instead of appreciating everything she carried, I focused on what wasn’t getting done.
That was my “40.”
I would come home wanting peace and quiet, a clean house, dinner ready, and everything in order. But with kids, laundry, dishes, errands, and the chaos of life, home rarely looked like that. Instead of helping, I blamed my wife. I saw her as the weak link instead of seeing my own selfishness and pride.
At the same time, my health was falling apart. I gained a lot of weight and was dealing with sleep apnea, high blood pressure, anxiety attacks, pre-diabetes, and more medications than I could count. A doctor finally sat me down and warned me that if I kept living the way I was, a heart attack was coming. Then I lost my job. That’s when everything began to shift.
In the middle of all the stress and confusion, I had a real moment with God. Somehow, through all of it, I knew we needed to move to Florida. We left behind everything we had ever known—family, friends, security, my career—and started over with almost nothing.
After bariatric surgery and the move, the biggest change came when my wife got a job and I became the stay-at-home parent. And I failed miserably at it. Suddenly I was the one juggling school drop-offs, cleaning, laundry, cooking, errands, and caring for a little one all day. Dinner wasn’t ready. Laundry piled up. The house stayed messy. I finally understood firsthand what my wife had been carrying all those years. God was opening my eyes.
What changed wasn’t just our situation—it was my heart. God kept me home for a full year, and in that season He completely changed my perspective on marriage, family, and love. I stopped demanding perfection and started learning partnership. My wife and I became a team instead of opponents.
Now, my “41” looks like peace, understanding, and gratitude. I’m not the same man I used to be. I help because I understand now. I love differently now. Looking back, I can see God took me through the fire to make me into a different man.
If you’re still in your “40,” keep your eyes on God instead of the chaos around you. Don’t try to carry it alone. Sometimes the hardest seasons are the very ones God uses to transform you the most.
Saul’s greatest struggle was not Goliath standing in front of him. His greatest struggle was the pride, fear, and self-reliance growing within him.
That’s often true for us too.
Many of the hardest battles in life are not the visible ones everyone else sees. They are the internal struggles quietly shaping our attitudes, relationships, and responses.
Pride convinces us we are right.
Selfishness convinces us our pain matters more than everyone else’s.
Busyness convinces us we do not need to slow down and listen.
And over time, those things can slowly damage the people closest to us.
One of the most powerful things God does in the wilderness is expose what we could not previously see clearly.
Not to shame us. Not to destroy us. But to transform us.
David approached God with humility and dependence while Saul increasingly depended on himself. And eventually, those internal differences became visible outwardly.
The same is true in our relationships.
Sometimes growth begins the moment we finally recognize the weight someone else has been carrying. The sacrifices we overlooked. The hurt we minimized. The ways our own pride kept us from seeing clearly.
And often, our “41” begins not when we become perfect, but when humility opens the door for healing, empathy, and change.
God has a way of softening hearts that once felt hardened.
Philippians 2:3–5
James 1:19–20
Ephesians 4:31–32
What resonated most with you in Whitman’s story? Why?
__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
Have there been moments where pride, selfishness, or lack of understanding affected your relationships?
__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
How has God used difficult conversations or experiences to grow humility and empathy in you?
__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
What relationships in your life may need greater grace, patience, or intentional care right now?__________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________
Father, thank You for being patient with me even when pride, selfishness, or stubbornness clouds my perspective. Help me grow in humility, compassion, and understanding toward the people around me.
Open my eyes to ways I may have overlooked the needs, burdens, or hurts of others. Teach me to listen well, love sacrificially, and reflect Your grace in my relationships. Thank You for continuing to soften and transform my heart. In Jesus’ name, amen.
Many relationships quietly struggle beneath the surface because of pride, misunderstanding, or unspoken hurt. As you reflect on Whitman’s story, consider sharing it with someone who may need the reminder that humility and grace can begin restoring what once felt broken.