For Us Dreamers

If you’re reading this on the day it’s posted, I’ve just finished up the first day of a week-long series of preaching in Amsterdam, Holland. You’re also reading this 10 days after I collaborated with fellow artists to create what may become your favorite music video. I appreciate you if you’re happy for me, but

Valley

If I had to identify my deepest source of shame, it’d be about something I don’t even think I was ever supposed to have—the ability to create a work of God out of thin air anytime I’d like. I hear an accusatory voice say to me every day, “If only you had the character you

SHOOK, part 2

Having spent the last 6.5 years watching God thwart almost every attempt of mine to serve him, I’m finally starting to see why God shakes our world before rebuilding it. It’s backwards enough to confuse readers and make me all but useless when asked, “What are you struggling with?” How do you articulate that? There

SHOOK, part 1

People are cities. Good and bad sections, yes. We ship/receive from others—we choose how much of their internal resources and energy will be devoted to the areas we want. I choose what I’m about, what imports and exports I’ll allow and produce. What does a city look like when negativity, the news cycle, and whatever else gets to roam

Bumping Into Myself

2018, as far as I’m concerned, should begin in that cozy space that is perfectly situated between “I know nothing!” and “I know everything!” Hyperbole among millennials isn’t something you run through like that goth/punk phase in high school. You don’t max it out until you’re balanced. On the other end, the Nihilism sits on

I’ll make you aware of two disclaimers: First, the temptation I face in reviewing “David The Great” is to dive deep into my appreciation for the author. It wouldn’t be long before my flattery robs from the legitimacy of what I’d like to tell you. Full disclosure: I love Dr. Mark Rutland, but not in

On Preventing My Inevitable Sex Scandal

“You will not turn to me and let me heal you.” Anger. Bitterness. Fear. Boredom. Disappointment. Hatred. Woundedness. Rather than consecrating these damaged and stolen portions of myself to the Holy Spirit, allowing him to fill my heart with love by removing what doesn’t belong or properly steward my identity…rather than consecration, I escape. To

views from the pk

I won’t pretend to know what made me this way, nor will I assume all pastor’s kids are like this. My healthy distance from Christendom, the bubble in which I was raised and for which I find myself simultaneously grateful and embarrassed, has afforded me the luxury of reflection as of late. It is a

the one i hope you skip

I wrote this as a private journal entry. I wasn’t intending to publish it anywhere. But all you should know is that I felt humiliated enough by the thought of posting this that it seemed the right thing to do. Nevertheless, here’s the one I hope you skip– The wind feels stronger when you’re perched atop

Thoughts TO the Basket

I rewrote Psalm 139 as a letter from God. I hope you’ll insert your name where I’ve placed mine: O Arvin, I have examined your heart and know everything about you. I know when you sit down or stand up. I know your every thought, even when you’re far away from me. I chart the