I used to be that dotted man on the right. Holding my well-packaged, perfectly-circular worldview in my fingertips (you know, so I could throw it at others). On the inside, however, I was insecure and confused. Dotted and fading. Robbed of a soul—my mind, intellect and emotions—because I had placed it into a system, a formula. But as long as I could hold my polished worldview out in front of me, I could efficiently mask my dotted being, blocking others from looking me in the

I see the world in stories. Always looking for the next plot that moves me. Always looking for the next thing that can take me on a journey and mold me. But sometimes a story isn’t in some far-off place, like hidden treasure for me to find, but is rather right beneath my feet—something that simply needs to be uncovered, exactly where I stand. That’s what this story is. It has to do with two things: my family and the Chicago Cubs. And it is a story that has indeed both moved m

One thing that I love about the Psalms is that they are emotionally raw—an unedited account of the human experience. At times, David eloquently praises God, overcome with gratitude and joy. Other times, he is full of doubt and frustration. And then there are times when he asks God to kill his enemies and bash his enemies' children's heads against rocks. The Psalms challenge me to experience the depth and range of my emotions and to then move through those emotions so that I c

When I began this blog, I never intended to weigh in on political or social issues. But for my final blog of September, I do not feel like I have a choice. I live in Charlotte, North Carolina—between uptown and the NODA arts district. I’ve lived in Charlotte for the last half-decade, and she—the Queen City—has been a conduit for my growth and learning throughout my twenties. Though I’m a Hoosier at heart, Charlotte is home to me. I am committed to her. She is committed to m

I’ve been at Sports Spectrum Magazine for five years. Those who are closest to me will tell you that a half-decade is a long time for me to be anywhere. My doctor says that I have chronic commitment issues or perhaps just a bad case of being a millennial. I was told that I should get a therapist, so I got three but couldn’t decide on one. I recently used the word “committed” in a conversation with my friend and he almost coughed up his drink. He then asked me to repeat what

In Brad Paisley’s controversial song “Those Crazy Christians,” there’s a line about going to church that says: Those crazy Christians, dressed up drivin’ down my street, Get their weekly dose of guilt before they head to Applebee’s. I can relate to this line because: one, I love just about everything Paisley writes and sings; two, Applebee’s is a pretty good place to eat; and three, guilt has unfortunately been one of the main concepts that has defined my spirituality over t

Dear Papaw, We were never ones to have serious conversations, were we? We liked arguing about sports and giving each other a hard time. We were expert jokesters and pranksters. You’d kid with me that I couldn’t possibly be a diehard Indiana Hoosier fan because I was born in Kentucky—my deepest, darkest secret. “The nearest hospital was in Louisville across the river and Indiana border!” I’d exclaim. It didn’t matter. I had committed the unpardonable sin. Of birth. Some of my