Journeys of a Wandering Wordsmith
Journey with me on my blog!
That Time I Stood Up to a Homophobic, Transphobic Bully – Also, a Pastor
A storyteller I follow refers to his growth in the numerical unit of past iterations of himself. "That was eight Robs ago," he'd say of himself, back when he used to believe one thing or behave a totally different way. I've started viewing my own growth in this vein, thinking about all the Toms that have existed in this singular Tom, particularly with regard to this active-passive dynamic. My passivity has run especially true in matters of relational conflict. Given the option to fight a conflict or flight a conflict (please excuse my incorrect usage of a noun as a verb in the name of symmetry), I will flight nine times out of ten. Ah, but then there's always that one instance...
The Year I Don't Wanna Look Back On (Again)
I don't want to look back on this year. Who would? This year was awful. This year made no sense. Much like its evil stepsister year before, this year isn't one I want to relive. Like, ever. And yet we are doomed to repeat history if we do not learn from it. It's true of societies, and it's true of individuals. As much as I want to forget most of 2021, I also want to learn from 2021 – desperately. The missteps. The failures. The doom. The gloom. What a tragedy for me – for you, for all of us – to enter 2022 or 2023 or 2087 and not learn a thing from 2021.
Older Than Jesus
Growing up, Jesus always seemed so much older than me. Not like eighty or ninety or a hundred "old," but when you're only eight or nine, thirty years old feels a hundred years away. But now to have lived the ages of 30 to 33, I have a new perspective on the life of Jesus. Turns out he was way younger – and way stronger – than I'd thought. I've had a tumultuous three years; perhaps the most shaping three years of my life. Again, as a storyteller, I can't help drawing parallels with Jesus' thirties.
Do You See Me?
I did what You asked, I built what You told me to build, and it literally collapsed. So now what? Are You even there anymore? I feel the strain in Nathanael's voice. The wavering. A desperate pleading to be seen.
A Time to Step Out and Speak Out
As a conflict-avoidant person, I've always had this general rule of thumb: stay away from politics when talking with other humans – online or offline. Just stay away. But something's changed in the last year. A tension not previously felt now rages in me, building over the span of Trump's presidency. I've often been left wondering: at what point do I step out and speak out . . . and at what point do I just throw up my hands and take a deep breath and let it be, and pray, and pray? It's hard to sit down for my weekly blog and ignore last week's events at the Capitol. The insanity that erupted and has been swirling in America, within Christianity since Donald Trump descended down that escalator six years ago. It's all I've been thinking about this week, and again I feel the tension. Bubbling tension that must be released.
Prodigal Father
The plot twist of the book is Nouwen's charge that we aren't merely to identify with the lost younger son or the lost older son. But we are to identify with the founding father. Becoming more like him as we walk this road. We are to be ones who create home for other people. Ones who keep them safe and warm. Ones who always welcome them in. Even – especially – after they leave.
Jesus Year
In 2017, when I was 30, I quit my full-time job at a boarding school to pursue more of Your Other Brothers. It's work, certainly, editing blogs and producing regular streams of podcasts and videos, but it's also a lot of ministry. Responding to emails from new readers. Engaging with supporters at coffee shops. Planning weekly digital gatherings and yearly "real-life" retreats. Am I comparing myself to Jesus, you're asking? Why, of course I am. But shouldn't we all?
40 Days of Ashes
Forty days ago, I sought to burn my psalms for Lent. Writing one in the back of my journal before bed each night, then ripping out the page, entering my closet and closing the door behind me, and setting fire to my words in an old toolbox. It was a different sort of Lenten season this year, for many reasons, and I have three main thoughts.
He is Still For You
May we rest in this comfort: that we are cosmically not alone in our loneliness. The One who forged heaven and earth walked a harrowing road with nowhere to lay His head. He is with us. He is for us. All these centuries later. In times of peace. In times of famine. Even still.
Give Us Tomorrow's Barabbas
Our entire lives we have wanted to be more present. And now that we've been given nothing but buckets upon buckets of the present, we are kicking away the pails and saying, "Give us back our precious longings." The savior we have anticipated through countless yesterdays is finally here in our midst, and we cry for Barabbas.
God Cannot Be
I'm certain that even if I hadn't been raised in a Christian home (and Christian school with Christian science textbooks) but had this same personality and outlook of the universe, I'd have sooner than later found my way to a God – if not the same one I follow now. The God who I believe is the one and only: creator of untold galaxies and creator of you and me. And yet there are many who cannot wrap their minds around such a contradictory notion – a massive and personal God.
Broken Belonging
Looking back on the last 16 years, I see that "takes too much effort" excuse as an easy out. Digging deeper, I see something else blocking my pursuit of church membership: my self-worth. Surprise, surprise; it's my single biggest struggle. Am I worthy of church membership? What do I even have to offer the church?
Mortality
It's there in my consciousness, a shadow sitting in the corner, unmoving. My mortality. Just . . . there. I will die one day, and this is how it's always been ordained. This is nothing new. Why has it taken me 30+ years to realize this – really realize this? More than ever, I want to make every moment matter. I want to live every day I've been given to live. It's such a crime for anyone to stay settled and never venture out. I cannot bear the thought for myself.
I'll Never Reach a Million People
More than ever, I long for my financial needs to be fully met so I can invest even more into creating: more time, more energy, more projects, more equipment. And thus even more connection. How nice it would be right now to have a million supporters. Or at least a few hundred thousand. Heck, a thousand. But here's the thing I desperately need to keep reminding myself. It's what I'm still learning from the hundreds of blogs, books, podcasts, and videos put out over the last decade. I'll never reach a million people if I don't reach the one.
This Chasm of Calling
On the one hand, I'm thrilled. I've never been more passionate in my calling as a storyteller. And yet on the other hand, the more I discover my God-given passions, talents, and deep gladness, the more burdened grows my soul; the more hungry, my heart. I feel the strain in the disconnect between what I want and what I believe God wants for me and others in this chasm of the not yet.
Ponder Anew
It can be easy for Christians to believe, almost robotically, that God can do anything. That's what makes God God, right? So, what does it mean to "ponder anew" what God can do? How does one ponder anew the already established notion that an all-powerful God can do — does — all-powerful things?
God I Hate People
For all the headaches other humans have caused me, Lord knows I've caused the same (and worse) in others. But we're different. We come from different families and cultures. We're all motivated differently. We want and need different things to sustain us, day by day. Okay. I get it now. Now, how can we unite? Around Whom can we follow a common path?
A Safe Place to Vomit My Heart
I returned to counseling last week for the first time in six months. Counseling, therapy — I never know what to call it. How about a safe place to vomit my heart? Above all, I've needed two things sorely: Scripture and Jesus. Even after just one session back, I feel enriched: a session bookended with prayer as I shared the overview of my story. I started choking up after just twenty minutes.
God's Love is Still Reckless
When "Reckless Love" first came out in 2017, I, like many others in Christian worshipdom, fell out of my seat. For the last year and a half, though, as many songs just do, it faded. Back at church, the electric guitar strings belted a familiar intro. One I'd not heard in a church setting for many, many months. "Reckless Love" returned to my life. And I couldn't skip it this time.
Plot Twisting
My life has featured a lot of plot twists I never saw coming. Especially these last two years. It's been brutal. It's also been necessary for the furthering of my story, I now realize. A story that wasn't going anywhere. Stuck in a sleepy, apathetic comfort.