Leadership, Life, and Ministry: Lessons We’re Still Learning

Scot Small

We didn’t start this year trying to write lessons.


We stepped into fields, gyms, meetings, conversations, and moments that didn’t come with a script. Somewhere along the way, we realized we were learning while we were leading, being shaped while we were trying to help shape others.


That realization didn’t arrive all at once. It came slowly, through repetition, tension, and moments that forced us to stop and pay attention. That’s usually how real ministry works.


Not at the beginning. Not at the finish line.


In the middle.


This past year in Battlefield FCA wasn’t about polished ideas or clean conclusions. It was about staying awake to what God was doing in us while we tried to stay faithful to what He was doing through us.


Looking back, a few themes kept surfacing. Not because we planned them, but because we needed them.


Focus Is Always Under Attack


One of the most consistent lessons this year was how easily focus slips. Not dramatically. Not all at once.


Quietly.


Like a tide that starts pulling while you’re looking down, adjusting your gear, assuming you’ve got plenty of margin. If you don’t decide your direction, something else will. And it rarely asks permission.


We kept coming back to this truth through fishing stories, gardens, dogs on the hunt, and leadership reflections. Different images, same warning. Focus doesn’t disappear overnight. It erodes through small moments of inattention.


Ministry drifts when urgency replaces intentionality. Leadership drifts when reaction replaces reflection. Faith drifts when familiarity replaces dependence.


You look up one day and ask, “How did I get here?” not realizing how many small decisions quietly carried you downstream. This year reminded us that intentionality is not a one time choice. It is daily. Sometimes hourly.


You either choose your focus, or you inherit whatever pulls the hardest.


Growth Is Messy, Even When We Know Better


I still want growth to be cleaner than it is.


I want clarity without fear. Breakthrough without tension. Obedience without the uncomfortable parts. I know better, but that doesn’t stop me from wishing it were true.


Yesterday, I sat in a meeting with fellow FCA teammates who are walking together through the Wenrich Leadership Institute. We spent time talking about growth, not as a theory or a leadership principle, but as something we are actively living. And what became clear quickly was this. Growth is rarely linear. It is awkward. It exposes blind spots. It brings fear and uncertainty to the surface, even when you are doing the right things.


No one in the room was pretending otherwise.


Growth almost always feels unfinished because it is. It stretches you into places where you don’t feel ready, and it often arrives carrying doubt and hesitation with it. That doesn’t mean something is wrong. More often than not, it means something important is happening.


Fear is not the enemy. Avoidance is.


We wrote about fear a lot this year, not as something to eliminate once and move past, but as something you learn to walk through. Courage doesn’t exist without fear. If fear is absent, courage is unnecessary.


That truth applies everywhere. Leadership. Parenting. Ministry. Faith. Every meaningful step forward seems to come with that quiet internal moment of, “Am I really going to do this?”


Growth does not wait for comfort. It meets you in the middle of obedience.


Character Is Still the Issue Beneath Every Issue


No matter where our writing wandered this year, it kept circling back to character.


Not the kind that shows up when things are going well. The kind that’s revealed when pressure is high, expectations are heavy, and shortcuts start to look reasonable.


Talent might get attention, but character determines whether you last.


We talked often about foundations because they matter. Shallow roots look impressive until storms arrive. Deep roots are quiet, unseen, and essential. The bigger the vision, the deeper the foundation must go. Influence without integrity eventually collapses under its own weight.


Character is not built on platforms or in public moments. It’s formed in the daily, often unnoticed decisions to stay faithful when no one is clapping.


Obedience Is Harder Than Knowledge


Another lesson that kept resurfacing this year was how easy it is to confuse knowing with obeying.


We live in a world full of information. Scripture included. But knowing what is right and doing what is right are not the same thing. Obedience usually costs more than we expect, and delayed obedience has a way of feeling reasonable in the moment.


Partial trust often sounds wise. It feels strategic. It even looks responsible. Until you look back and realize you ignored a nudge you should not have ignored.


God does not often shout. He invites. And the invitation usually requires trust before clarity.


That is especially difficult for leaders who are wired to plan, anticipate, and manage outcomes. But obedience has a way of revealing where our trust truly sits. This year reminded us again that leaning on our own understanding may feel safer, but it rarely leads to peace.


We Are Still Learning How to Ask for Help


Another thread that ran quietly through much of this year was community, or more honestly, our resistance to it.


Leaders are skilled at carrying things silently. We tell ourselves we are protecting others, staying strong, or handling it well. More often, we are isolating ourselves without realizing the cost.


Silence feels safer than vulnerability. Image feels easier than honesty.


But isolation is expensive.


This year reminded us that strength is not found in suffering alone. It grows in trusted relationships where doubts, fears, and questions can be spoken without fear of judgment. Healing and clarity tend to accelerate when performance gives way to honesty.


No one was meant to carry this alone. Not coaches. Not athletes. Not leaders. Not you.


The Work Is Worth It Because People Are Worth It


Through all of this, one thing remained clear.


People matter.


Not numbers. Not metrics. Not recognition.


Coaches encouraged through quiet conversations. Athletes seen for who they are, not just how they perform. Volunteers showing up faithfully when no one else notices. Moments that never make headlines but shape lives.


That is the heartbeat of Battlefield FCA. It always has been.


This year reminded us why we stay in the work even when it feels heavy. Why faithfulness matters when progress feels slow. Why God so often chooses ordinary spaces to do extraordinary things.


Locker rooms. Fields. Outdoors. Sidelines. Conversations that feel small but ripple farther than we can see.


Still in the Middle


This isn’t a wrap up. It’s a pause.


We are still learning, still growing, still being shaped, and still asking God to correct our focus and deepen our roots. Some things are clearer than they were a year ago. Others are still being worked out in real time.


But we’re grateful.


Grateful for the lessons that didn’t come easily. Grateful for the tension that exposed what needed to change. Grateful for the people who stayed in the work together, even when it felt heavy.


God has a way of meeting us where we actually are, not where we pretend to be. More often than not, that place is the middle of the work, not the finish line.


So as this year closes, maybe the better question isn’t what you accomplished. Maybe it’s this...


  1. What did this year reveal about where your attention has been slipping?
  2. What has God been trying to grow in you that you’ve been tempted to rush or avoid?
  3. And what might faithfulness look like in the next honest step, not the whole picture?


We’ll keep stepping onto the field. Learning as we go. Trusting that God is still at work, even when things feel unfinished.


Because most of the important work is.


One last thing.


Before turning the page on this year, I’d love to hear from you.


What would be most helpful for me to write about in the coming year as we continue to wrestle with leadership, life, and ministry together?


If there’s a question, tension, or topic you’d want me to lean into, I’m listening.



Happy New Year and God Bless!
Scot


Are you wondering how you can make difference? Maybe Sports Ministry could be a path for you.



Help Us Spread the Word and Share!

By Scot Small May 19, 2026
There is a big difference between knowing about Jesus and actually knowing Jesus. A person can know facts about Him. They can know Bible stories, Christian language, church routines, and even the right answers. They can know that Jesus died on the cross, rose from the grave, and is coming again. But knowing true things about Jesus is not the same as living in relationship with Him. In John 15, Jesus does not say, “Learn more religious information and try harder.” He says, “Abide in me.” That word carries the idea of remaining, staying, dwelling, continuing. Jesus is calling His disciples into a life of ongoing dependence on Him. “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.” That picture matters. A branch does not produce fruit by effort alone. It produces fruit because it is connected to the vine. The life of the vine flows into the branch. Apart from the vine, the branch may still look attached for a while, but it cannot bear lasting fruit. That is one of the quiet dangers in Christian life. We can keep the appearance of connection while slowly drifting from dependence. We can stay busy in ministry, sports, leadership, family, and service, but inwardly we are running on fumes. Jesus does not call that fruitfulness. He calls us back to Himself. Jesus says, “The one who remains in me and I in him produces much fruit, because you can do nothing without me.” That is not meant to insult us. It is meant to free us. We are not the source. We were never meant to be. For athletes and coaches, this is easy to miss because sports trains us to push harder, compete longer, and produce results. There is a place for discipline, effort, and training. But spiritual fruit is different. You cannot manufacture love, joy, peace, endurance, holiness, humility, courage, or obedience by sheer willpower. Those things grow from union with Christ. This is where obedience has to be understood rightly. Jesus says, “If you keep my commands you will remain in my love.” He is not describing cold religion or fear-based performance. He is describing the natural response of someone who loves Him and trusts Him. Obedience is not how we earn His love. Obedience is one of the ways we remain close to the One who already loves us. That matters because many people either separate love and obedience or confuse them. Some want the comfort of Jesus without surrender. Others try to obey Jesus without resting in His love. Both miss the heart of discipleship. Jesus holds them together. “As the Father has loved me, I have also loved you. Remain in my love.” John 15:9 That is staggering. Jesus is not offering a thin, fragile, emotional kind of love. He says the love He has for His disciples is rooted in the love between the Father and the Son. That means Christian obedience begins in being loved by Christ before it ever becomes action for Christ. Then Jesus says something that should reshape how we think about discipleship: “I have spoken these things to you so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete.” John 15:11 Jesus is not trying to shrink our lives. He is not calling us into obedience so we can become miserable religious people. He calls us to abide, obey, love, and bear fruit because He knows where life is found. His commands are not chains. They are the path of life under His rule and care. And the fruit Jesus emphasizes here is love. “This is my command: Love one another as I have loved you.” John 15;12 That means abiding in Jesus cannot remain private. Real connection to Christ becomes visible in how we love people. Not just people who are easy to love. Not just people who help our goals. Not just teammates, leaders, donors, or friends who make life simpler. Jesus says His love becomes the pattern for our love. He loved sacrificially. He moved toward sinners. He served the weak. He corrected the proud. He washed feet. He laid down His life. So the question is not simply, “Do I believe in Jesus?” A deeper question is, “Am I remaining in Him?” Am I depending on Him? Am I receiving His words? Am I obeying His commands? Am I loving people in a way that looks like Him? This is where readiness for Christ’s return begins. Not with speculation. Not with panic. Not with trying to decode every headline. Readiness begins with abiding. A disciple who is abiding in Christ is not passive. They are watchful, prayerful, obedient, humble, and available. They are not perfect, but they are connected to the source of life. They are being pruned by the Father, shaped by the Word, and led into fruitfulness by the Spirit. The Christian life is not about looking attached. It is about remaining in Jesus. And today, before we ask what we need to do for Him, maybe we need to ask whether we are staying close to Him. Are you wondering how you can make difference? Maybe Sports Ministry could be a path for you. Volunteer with Battlefield FCA – Help us disciple the next generation. Become a Monthly Supporter – Fuel the mission that’s changing lives. Pray with us – Identity in Christ is spiritual warfare. We need covering.
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