The Skyward Canvas — Colossians 3:1–5, 9–11
"Set your hearts on things above, where Christ is..." (Colossians 3:1)
I didn’t become a monk.
I became a man who looked skyward.
Not to escape the mess below,
but to defy its gravity.
Colossians didn’t hand me a roadmap.
It handed me a paradox:
To truly progress, I had to stop measuring
and start moving.
"Put to death, therefore, whatever belongs to your earthly nature..." (Colossians 3:5)
Not everything earthly is evil.
But everything too earthly—
the obsession with assets, indulgences,
the spiritual performance metrics—
that had to die.
I still buy groceries.
Still turn the lights on.
But I no longer worship the grind.
I tempered my hubris—
once a weapon in business,
now a tool for truth.
"Do not lie to each other..." (Colossians 3:9)
So I stopped lying.
To others.
To myself.
I stopped pretending that grace
could be graphed like quarterly earnings.
I began doing the next right thing.
Not because it made me holy,
but because it brought me
authentic human interactions.
Scripture classes.
Forced collisions with people
who didn’t know they were prophets.
Moments that rewired my mission.
"You have taken off the old self... and put on the new self..." (Colossians 3:9–10)
I let go of the old self—
not in one dramatic moment,
but in a thousand quiet choices.
And the new self emerged.
Not perfect.
Not polished.
But renewed.
"...being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator." (Colossians 3:10)
True knowledge isn’t buried in an ancient scroll
you’ll stumble upon in your garden.
It’s a canvas within.
You hand God the colors—
your pain, your joy, your mission—
and He paints the masterpiece.
"Here there is no Gentile or Jew... but Christ is all, and is in all." (Colossians 3:11)
So I looked skyward.
Not to treat God like my butler,
but to tune into the divine telemetry
of the present moment.
To listen.
To observe.
To laugh.
To help alcoholics not just through strategy,
but through story.
Because the skyward life isn’t measured.
It’s lived.
Jason Bresnehan
Jason is a fixer—of businesses, of broken momentum, and occasionally of entire spiritual frameworks gone sideways. He speaks fluent boardroom and AA, deploys Catholic doctrine with the subtlety of a scalpel, and isn’t afraid to lace his insights with both war-room metaphors and dad-sermon tenderness.
Founder of Evahan, a consultancy built on the idea that legacy and liquidity don’t need to fight, Jason draws on 30 years of commercial grit, tactical leadership, and emotional radar to help people rebuild what entropy took. He works with companies, communities, and recovery misfits alike—often using the same principles to sort both cap tables and chaotic lives.
He’s finalising his first book—a memoir-in-doctrine forged in the trenches of alcoholic recovery, endurance motorsport obsession, and spiritual trench marches. That book, partly teased on his Pursuit of Luck blog, is the cornerstone of a broader movement to connect practical wisdom with satirical grit, spiritual heat, and a recovery roadmap lined with breadcrumbs and tactical grace.