Weekend at the Workbench 003

The Sacrifice That Prepares Us

There’s a way men end their weeks that says more about who they are than how they began it.

The world says, “Thank God it’s over. Let loose. Blow off steam.” But we’ve been learning a different rhythm. One that’s not about escape—but about offering. Not collapse—but completion. Not reward—but remembrance.

This is a place where we remind each other that Fridays aren’t the finish line. They’re the threshold. A chance to temper ourselves in the forge of daily sacrifice—so we’re ready to step into the sacred rest and joy of the Lord’s Day.

Story from the Workbench: On the Road, Tempered

This week, I found myself hauling a horse trailer cross-country with my daughter—her whole life packed into a truck and two horses she’s raised herself. She didn’t ask for help. I had to offer. And she didn’t need someone to take control—she needed someone to accompany her.

That shift—from controlling to accompanying—was hard. I’ve hauled trailers my whole life. But not like this. These weren’t boards or dumpsters. These were breathing, beloved parts of her story. She had every right to guide me, and I had every reason to listen. But I lost my temper. Not in some blow-up way—more like a slow boil. The sighs, the short tone, the subtle “I know what I’m doing….can you please stop telling me how to drive” vibe.

But somewhere in Illinois or maybe Indiana, it hit me: This wasn’t about horsepower. It was about humility. Another inspection point in the rebuild.

A Tempered man -

My tantrums now are more like ticks—less frequent, less damaging—but they’re still there. This moment was a test: could I stay present, humble, gentle? Could I sacrifice my pride to offer her peace?

We’re almost in Kentucky now, about to drop her off for her first real job—running a barn of 55 thoroughbreds. She’s stepping into something big, and I want her memory of this trip to be not just about a truck and a trailer, but about the way her dad showed up: present, patient, and formed.

This is what we mean by tempered: not weak, not passive—but heat-treated. Controlled. Sharpened. Made useful.

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Weekend Rhythm: Look Back + Step Forward

As you head into the weekend, take 10-15 minutes at the workbench—or on a run, or in your truck—and walk through these:

1. What needed tempering this week?

• Was there a moment when your emotions outpaced your wisdom?

• What triggered that, and what did it reveal?

2. Where did you accompany instead of control?

• Did you allow someone else to lead?

• What did you resist—and why?

3. What did you offer this week?

• In work, at home, in prayer—what sacrifices did you make without reward?

• Can you connect those small moments to something greater?

4. What still needs to be laid down?

• Is there lingering pride, resentment, exhaustion, or ego?

• What would it look like to give that to God tonight?

5. How will you enter the weekend?

• Not to escape, but to engage.

• Not for yourself, but for the people you’ve been given to serve.

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Closing Charge:

Let this Friday be your offering. Let the strain of your week—not your leisure—be the thing that prepares you to enter into the joy of the weekend with dignity, sobriety, and strength.

And when the Lord’s Day comes, may you rise—not just from sleep, but into new life.