Jesus-follower even when I don’t feel like one. Still a wretched sinner saved by scandalous grace plus nothing I can do but through faith in the finished work of Christ alone. You could call me a hopeful Protestant and hesitant pilgrim in what Michael Spencer called the “post-evangelical wilderness.”
I like to think of myself as a beggar letting others know where to find bread. Spent the last few years realizing that I’m a recovering self-help junkie. Crazy about a certain brown eyed girl named Stacey and the proud father of Becca, Lauren and Gabe—add to the list an average golfer, wannabe chef, a complete klutz and have a hunch I was a sailor lost at sea in a previous life.
You could say I have nine lives—beat Lyme Disease, survived a tragic divorce, lived to tell about an emergency landing and walked away after being hit by a car (and there’s more, but I’ll spare you). Can’t sing or dance, but would like to think of myself as a decent writer. A fantasy interview would be with reformer Martin Luther. Currently waiting out the winter for another season of Tiger baseball and working on my book “The Great Christian Hoax”. When I’m not writing you can catch me doing push-ups so the tatoos I’m getting have somewhere to go.
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