Today, we're joined by Lauren Abraham, a leader helping guide the national Student to Student Program of the Newark Institute, as well as two student participants of the program: Yehudah Greenberg and Ayden Nelson. Through this program, Yehudah and Ayden are boldly stepping into conversations that many adults shy away from and sharing stories, traditions, and lived experiences in an effort to replace stereotypes with understanding. Together, they are proving that real change begins face to face.

In our time together, Lauren, Yehudah, and Ayden share how courage grows when you choose visibility over fear and how education becomes transformational when it's personal.

Yehudah speaks about living out his Orthodox Jewish faith openly, even after experiencing antisemitism, and why he refuses to let fear define him.

Ayden reflects on growing up in a split-faith household and how her unique perspective allows her to connect with classmates across differences.

My friends, if you've been wondering whether empathy still stands a chance in today's world, this conversation is for you. You'll leave reminded that change rarely comes from shouting louder; it comes from listening better. And you'll be inspired by young leaders choosing courage over comfort…maybe even prompting you to start a meaningful conversation of your own.

Nearing the end of a hectic week of speaking, I could feel it coming.

What began as a raspy voice at the start of one talk turned into a whisper by the end. As a sinus infection intensified, my throat swelled, swallowing hurt and my body ached, but the hardest part wasn't the pain. It was the silence brought on by laryngitis.

For a man who makes his living with words, losing my voice felt like losing a part of myself.

After a week of quiet, though, as my voice slowly returned, I realized something unexpected: Losing my voice gave me gifts I didn't know I needed. Let me explain.

Mary DeMuth is a bestselling author, international speaker, host of the Pray Every Day podcast, and has devoted her life to helping people heal from difficult stories. And yet, before guiding others toward hope, Mary was a little girl growing up in chaos, navigating abuse, neglect, addiction, and the loss of her father.

Today, Mary shares how to move from victim to survivor to healer, why lament is not weakness but faith refusing to let go, and what forgiveness really looks like in real life. She speaks honestly about trauma resurfacing years later, the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation, and how striving to prove your worth can quietly shape your identity. Her words are gentle, grounded, and deeply practical.

My friends, if you are tired of carrying pain in silence or rushing yourself past grief, this conversation is for you. You will leave with courage, practical wisdom and the reminder that the best is yet to come.

Early in life, I learned an important truth that would guide the rest of my life: growth rarely happens in comfort.

It happens in supply closets when scarred knees are stretched, at dinner tables when you're forced to relearn how to pick up a fork, and on screen porches when you're reminded that the can of gasoline isn't chasing you anymore.

Growth doesn't begin when the path is clear and the circumstances are perfect. It begins when we step forward anyway into situations where we feel uncertain, unqualified, even afraid. And when we live like that, it not only changes our lives, but also the lives of those we encounter.

Jonathan Babcock lives this truth. Let me explain.

Candace Lightner is the founder of MADD: Mothers Against Drunk Driving and We Save Lives, nationally and internationally recognized organizations reshaping America's response to drunk driving. After her 13-year-old daughter, Cari, was killed by a repeat drunk driver in 1980, Candace transformed unimaginable grief into a grassroots movement that has saved more than 600,000 lives and led to the passage of over 700 state and federal laws, including raising the drinking age to 21.

Today, Candace shares how she turned heartbreak into bold action, why anger can be a catalyst instead of a curse, and what it takes to change laws and culture. She explains why words matter—it's not an "accident," it's a crash or a crime—and how ordinary people, especially grieving mothers, became powerful advocates nationwide. She also reveals how her work continues today through campaigns addressing drunk, drugged, and distracted driving, empowering passengers to speak up and pushing for accountability.

My friends, if you've ever looked at injustice and thought, "Someone should do something," this conversation is for you. You'll leave reminded that one voice (your voice!) can spark change, and that grief and anger can be turned into impact.

"John, everything is going to work out fine."

With these words my sweet dad was trying to encourage me and cheer me up.

It wasn't working, though. Let me explain.

Rudy Ruettiger is the legendary underdog behind the iconic film RUDY, the walk-on who made one unforgettable play for the University of Notre Dame and became the first player in school history to be carried off the field. One of 14 children raised in a modest home, Rudy overcame dyslexia, rejection, and doubt to become an award-winning speaker, author, producer, and founder of the Rudy Foundation.

Today, Rudy shares how discipline and scarcity forged deep gratitude, how the loss of a close friend pushed him to pursue his dream without a backup plan, and how showing up day after day changed everything. He reflects on the ordinary people who encouraged him, the rejection letters that strengthened his resolve, and the persistence it took to turn a long shot into a legacy. At its core, this is a story of hope, perseverance, and courage.

My friends, if you have ever felt underestimated, overlooked, or unqualified, this episode is for you. If you are standing at the edge of a dream and wondering whether to take the next step, you will leave reminded that perseverance beats pedigree, character outweighs credentials, and your story has the power to inspire someone else.

Recently I shared a story online about a flight delayed because of the arrogance of one person. Thousands of people liked the post. Hundreds more commented. And the vast majority agreed that the man in first class was profoundly arrogant.

Here's what I learned after that post went live:

It turns out, I was the arrogant one. Let me explain.