The Soul-Sucking Voice of Reason

Hey guys, it’s me, Josh.

I have something I believe is worth sharing.

I’ll start with a quote that has absolutely consumed me for the past two weeks:

"Beware the soul-sucking force of reasonableness."

I first read “The Power of Moments” by Chip and Dan Heath in 2018. In fact, I highlighted that exact quote my first time through, but it wasn’t until recently, while I was on a 700-acre ranch in the middle of Texas (with no phone or internet), that those prophetic words punched me right in the gut.

"Speed bumps are reasonable. Climbing Mt. Everest is not," says the author.

Reasonableness feels safe, sensible, and even wise. But if we’re not careful—it’ll quietly squeeze the life out of the things that make life meaningful: creativity, passion, and purpose.

In reflection, I came to the realization that the most beautiful and worthwhile things in my life were far from “reasonable” by the world’s standards.

Before proceeding, I’d like to offer a few examples to further solidify my argument:

Example #1:

In 2005, I was trying to impress a girl named Breanne Ledford. So I did the obvious, totally normal thing and wrote her a song. I handed her a burned CD with zero explanation after hanging out one evening (not a date, mind you), and crossed my fingers waiting for her to call. This was incredibly unreasonable and I still cringe when I think about it, BUT IT WORKED.

Example #2:

In 2018, me and two buddies decided it’d be a great idea to hop on a plane to China in search of a manufacturing partner. The mission? To create the world’s largest blanket. It was weird, ambitious, and we were definitely out of our comfort zones. But the “unreasonable” paid off—we built a multi-million-dollar business and had some pretty wild experiences along the way, like hanging with sumo wrestlers and NBA players. Reasonable? Not exactly.

Example #3:

In 2021, Bre came down with a very serious case of baby-fever. We already had three kids, and our youngest was eight years old—talk about hitting reset. This was, by most standards (including my own standards), completely and totally unreasonable. And now we have a very opinionated two-year-old named Ruby Jane who reminds us what “unreasonableness” looks like daily. Best decision ever.

Example #4:

In 2023, my 13-year-old son Jude announced he wanted to run a marathon. I got a lot of “reasonable” advice from people telling me he was too young and maybe I was pushing him too hard (even though it was all his idea). Fast forward a year later: Jude runs a half-marathon with me EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND, he just completed his second full marathon (crushing last year’s time by an hour), and is training for a 100-mile ultramarathon in 2025. Reasonable? No chance.

Example #5:

Just this past year, I decided that branding big companies wasn’t enough—I wanted to help families brand themselves. I dove headfirst into making this calling a reality. Earlier this year, I launched "Rally Family Branding" to the public, and just a few days ago, I finished the manuscript for my first book, "Rally Your Family". Now, to be clear, I have no business writing a book. But that’s precisely why I did it. Reading a book is reasonable. Writing one? Totally unreasonable.

*Shameless plug: You can preorder my book at www.RallyYourFamily.com

• Reasonable is building for comfort; unreasonable is risking it all for something that matters.

• Reasonable protects what it has; unreasonable pursues what it could become.

• Reasonable seeks approval; unreasonable builds conviction.

Here’s the thing: Reasonable actions get us predictability and safety. And hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. But the truth is, we don’t become the best version of ourselves by playing it safe.

I feel like someone out there needs to hear this today (I know I do on a regular basis). If you’re holding back on a dream or goal because it feels “unreasonable,” remember the things that give life meaning rarely come with a safety net.

• Think you’re too young to make a difference? You’re not.

• Think you’re too old to try something new? Try again.

• Think you’re not “built” for a big challenge? You’re tougher than you realize.

It won’t be easy, but that’s part of what makes it worth it. A truly meaningful life requires “long obedience in the same direction”—and occasionally, a dose of crazy.

And sure, there’s risk in choosing the unreasonable path—but if you ask me, there’s even more risk in playing it safe. I know my life would look vastly different had I listened to that ‘soul-sucking voice of reason.’

From my perspective, the older we get, the more reasonable we become. I turn forty next year (forty!) — but I’m committed to being even more unreasonable during the next four decades than I was the first four. I’m just getting started, baby.

But just so we’re clear—we will not be having a fifth child. Even I have my limits.

Ok, that’s it from me today. I hope this hits home for at least one of you.

Disclaimer: I’m convinced my brain hasn’t fully developed yet, so please take everything I say with a grain of salt. This could, in fact, be terrible advice. It’s hard to say.

Godspeed.

——-

PS — The photo attached to this post is my family on the riverbank of the 60-acre property we purchased back in June. In true ‘unreasonable’ fashion, we’re building a multi-generational family estate. Lord willing, this is just the start of a legacy that will make a lasting, positive impact for generations to follow. More to come in 2025.

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17 year anniversary

I wanted to let you know that Bre and I are celebrating 17 years of marriage today—our waitress at dinner last night refused to believe us, but it’s very true (I have the marriage certificate and MTV episode to prove it).

In addition to still being married, and despite having four children constantly jockeying for our attention (one, in particular, named Ruby), I’m very proud to report that we love each other more than ever.

Last week, I was having coffee with a friend, and he asked how long Bre and I had been married. After letting him know, he kindly said, “You guys make it look effortless.” I was quick to respond, “The things that look effortless often require the most effort.”

Our marriage is great—but great things require great effort.

I spent some time this morning reflecting on our relationship, and I want to share a few of the lessons I’ve learned over the years.

1. Words matter. I tell Bre how beautiful she is every single day. If you don’t believe me, ask her. It’s easy because her physical beauty is obvious—but the older I get, the more I’m attracted to her heart.
   

2. Goodbyes matter. I never leave the house without hugging Bre and praying with her. I do the same with each kid. No exceptions. Ever.
   

3. Gratitude matters. There was a season early in our marriage when we had very little. I remember going to Walmart and having to take things out of our cart because we couldn’t afford them. Guess what? We had each other, and we were still happy. When you focus on the good, you have more of it. If I’m being honest, the life we currently lead feels like a dream—but I refuse to forget that what I currently have used to be what I always dreamed of. Read this one twice.
   

4. Humility matters. I’m wrong—a lot. Over the years, I’ve learned to admit it and learn from it (instead of doubling down). Wisdom isn't found in certainty. Wisdom is trying to figure out what is right instead of trying to be right.
   

5. Margin matters. Margin is the space between your limit and your load. Without margin, we live in a constant state of hurry—and hurry kills the things we hold dear. As a father of four, this lesson was especially hard to learn. I used to tell myself that being busy was just a part of life. It was ok, because all the things we were doing were “good things”. Trust me on this one: if your schedule has zero margin, your life will fall apart.
   

6. Your relationship with God is paramount. Here’s a Dallas Willard quote I’ve wrestled with a lot — “We don't believe something by merely saying we believe it, or even when we believe that we believe it. We believe something when we act as if it were true.” — I believe our words and actions are an overflow of what’s going on inside of us. I want my life and legacy to be the ultimate testimony of what I believe. Serving others and living a life that reflects Christ’s goodness is the goal. If that remains my focus, being a good husband comes naturally.

Ok, that’s all the unsolicited marriage advice I have for today.

Friendly reminder: I’m not very smart, so please use your best judgment when reading anything I write.

Godspeed.

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My short stint as a musician

I used to be a musician.

Not a very good musician. But a musician nonetheless.

When I was pursuing the love of my wife (currently my wife), to my cringe-worthly dismay, 20-year-old Josh actually wrote and recorded a song for her in an attempt to win her over. As painful as it sounds, it somehow worked and ultimately gave me enough confidence to keep writing.

In an unexpected turn of events, Bre and I somehow got married on an MTV reality show (a blog post for another time), and that opportunity opened a few doors for me.

In 2006 I found myself recording my first album in Brooklyn, New York and simultaneously preparing to perform live on MTV in Times Square for New Years. It was wild.

I enjoyed the ride, but never had intentions of making a career out of it. I loved writing music (I’ve always been a creator at heart), but didn’t love performing.

In 2010 I hung up my guitar and removed all of my music from iTunes and Spotify. It was fun while it lasted, but I didn’t want to be known as a musician.

Fast forward to 2023. My daughter, Gwyn, found a box of my old albums in our basement and started asking questions. She listened to my music and became my biggest fan overnight (it only lasted about a week or two, before Ben Rector took my place). It was endearing and fun while it lasted.

She asked me why my music wasn’t on Spotify—I told her it used to be, but I took it all down. She thought that was a bad move and convinced me to put it back up.

In an effort to appease my 9-year-old, “Songs for Jude” by Josh Stewart is now available on Spotify (and everywhere else you might stream music).

I still cringe a little bit when I hear my 20-something-year-old voice, but I’m proud that I’ve always been willing to take chances and push myself out of my comfort zone.

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Father/Son Marathon

I believe with every fiber in my being that I was put on this earth to be a father.

From day one, I’ve loved the job and embraced the challenge.

I’m also proud to report that I’m good at it. Not because of any natural talent but because I take it seriously and work at it.

One of my core tenets as a father is to “lead from the front.”

I’ll never ask my kids to do something I haven’t done or am unwilling to do. In my opinion, this is leadership 101.

Ok, I’ll get to my point now.

I’ve always had a strong relationship with my son, Jude—but in 2023, we became best friends.

And it wasn’t by accident.

Earlier this year, he started asking questions about some of the things I do.

• Why do you lift weights?

• Why do you run?

• Why do you sauna/cold plunge?

• Why don’t you ever eat junk food?

We began having a lot of deep conversations about life. The importance of living with purpose. The difference between instant and delayed gratification. The value of getting comfortable with being uncomfortable.

I got to explain to him that not only do these things make my body stronger and my mind sharper—but more importantly, they make me a better husband, a better father, and a better Christ-follower.

He bought into the lifestyle, and we started working out together regularly.

About three months ago, he randomly asked me if I thought he could run a marathon.

My quick answer was, “Absolutely! Let’s start training, and maybe by the time you’re 18, we could run one together.” He then told me he wanted to run the Bass Pro Marathon with me THIS YEAR.

It seemed crazy (even to me), but we started running regularly to see what he was made of.

Last month, we successfully ran two half marathons, so I decided he could handle the big leagues.

This morning, I finished my fifth marathon, and he finished his first.

We crossed the finish line together, and it was, undoubtedly, my proudest moment in 38 years on planet Earth.

To be clear, I’m incredibly proud of the physical accomplishment (26.2 miles is a long way for anyone to run, let alone a 13-year-old), but I’m much more proud of who he’s becoming.

The kid is special. He is disciplined. He is humble. He has integrity. He is wise beyond his years.

Being his dad is an honor and a privilege.

I’m proud to report that the trajectory is good.

PS — You’re technically supposed to be 18 in order to run the full marathon, so we signed him up as Bre Stewart, and he ran in the 35+ women's division. I don’t like to lie, but I’m at peace with the decision. If any Bass Pro representatives read this and I need to pay a fine or serve some jail time, just let me know.

Godspeed.

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