Acknowledgements
To the many pastors I’ve called friends and collaborators—Jason Jackson, Marty Schmidt, Paul Solomen, Andrew Schmidt, Kevin Korver, Jonathan Middlebrooks, Greg Dewey, Lance Humphries, and Alex Armstrong. And to the congregations that didn’t walk out when I filled the pulpit at Skyline Church in Oklahoma City; Gateway Church in Des Moines; First Reformed Church in Pella; Celebrate Church in Knoxville; and The Bridge Church in Ottumwa—thank you.
To my mentors and teachers at John Brown University in Siloam Springs, Arkansas, and during my short stint at George Fox University in Newberg, Oregon—thank you for honoring the slow, uncertain work of theological thought and practice. You permitted me to unlearn, to revisit, to revise. You helped correct my posture from one of knowing to one of learning. You allowed me to hold faith and doubt not as opposites, but as companions toward a more generous orthodoxy.
To the thinkers and writers who have quietly companioned this journey—Frederick Buechner, Walter Brueggemann, Wendell Berry, David James Duncan, C.S. Lewis, G.K. Chesterton, Brian McLaren, Jordan B. Peterson, Rainer Maria Rilke, Fred Craddock, and others. I hope that in my writing, your voices are carried forward—not as a parrot might copy and repeat, but as a wave that bears your intent toward different shores.
To my dudes, the trip guys, and Bayfield bunkmates, who welcomed unfinished thoughts and frayed convictions. You've shown that a true community is more profane than sacred, which is ok, so long as the coffee is strong and the breakfast burritos come with extra salsa.
My dudes: Adam Martin, Luke Parrott, Pete Majors, Tim Watson, Jarod Sickler, Danny Crisafulli, Austin Snowbarger, Seth Woodward, Drew Crowson, Don Hogan, Nate Friend, Maury Birdwell, Dave Dunmyre, Chase Moore, Jamie Norman, Joe Lloyd, Nate Hoag, Wes Rumph, Jip Hubbard, Charles Snyder, Daniel Daily, Brad Ray, and Brian Hill.
This book is dedicated to Josh Lantz and Randy Bister, brothers in arms. Each left a lasting mark on those of us who led trips with them in the mountains, rivers, and lakes of Southwest Colorado. Josh was a poet and musician, quiet but vibrant, seemingly attuned to the hidden layers within this world. Randy never met a stranger; his “everything is fixable” mentality gave life to the discarded and purpose to the broken.
I miss them more than I say; their presence lingers within these chapters.
And to the Mystery within all things: We fail because we thought we knew. We live because we desire to be known. We ask because we desire to know.