The other day I was having a miniature faith crisis (you know, just another Tuesday), so I met up with my mentor and asked him my burning question, “What is Ultimate Reality?” He thought about my question, then confidently said, “It is the dance between the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Ultimate Reality is joining the Trinitarian Dance.” To which I responded, “What the hell, man?” And so began another journey… Theologically, what I love about the idea of Trinity is th

In Thomas Moore’s The Soul of Christmas, a book written for Christians and non-Christians alike, he writes: “Christmas is a transformation of the soul, but to get to that point you have to appreciate the story of Christmas at a deep level. You have to appreciate the importance and power of metaphor and levels of meaning. You have to tell the story of Jesus’s birth again and again until you finally see that it is as much about you as it is about any community of followers. It’

Much of my life revolves around questions. As someone who enjoys theology, I love posing a question to, or about, the divine from the crux of my doubt or unknowing and then wrestling with it. As a writer, journalist, and storyteller, I love asking others questions about their lives and personal journeys so that I can share a compelling story with the world. The other day, however, I was confronted with the interesting notion that perhaps two of the things I enjoy the most

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

Last winter, one of the co-pastors at my church in Charlotte recommended that I listen to The Liturgists, a podcast hosted by scientist Mike McHargue and musician Michael Gungor. After one episode, I was hooked. I listened to episode after episode on a 10-hour drive to Indianapolis. And then I kept listening on the way back to Charlotte. And then I re-listened to episodes throughout the year. (By the way, if you have never heard of The Liturgists, these are my top-five favori

The word “relationship” always had a certain heaviness attached to it. Especially when referring to romantic relationships. I’m not the best at them, historically speaking. They are sometimes exhausting and they usually involve lots of work. Whenever there is something “off” in a relationship, in my experience, it usually has to do with proximity—there’s something that I’m not doing, or something that I could be doing more of, that is contributing to that sense of “feeling di

“He’s probably the hardest-working guy I’ve been around who has great ability. Overachievers work hard because they have to. Peyton has rare talent, but chooses to push himself like he doesn’t.” —Tony Dungy “We’re in Las Vegas and we all come down for team breakfast at the start of the whole training camp. And Kobe comes in with ice on his knees and with his trainers and stuff. He’s got sweat drenched through his workout gear. And I’m like, ‘It’s 8 o’clock in the morning, man