God is faithful.

This season I found myself in has been a whirlwind of change, unexpected, and trusting the unknown. Yet in the midst of it all, my God, He has been faithful. More faithful than I could ever have imagined or dreamed.

In a sense, it all culminated the weekend before Christmas, as I was introduced as the new Student Ministry Pastor at Sage Hills Church in Wenatchee, Washington. I’m so grateful to become a part of this amazing church, these wonderful people, and this fine city in Central Washington.

Nothing could stop me.


Not even a blood clot.

Now, I’m typing this from the Wenatchee Valley,  from the city of Cashmere (not the Led Zeppelin song) – stoked for what is to come. I’ve moved and I’m here. I officially step into this new season, role, and adventure in the morning.

I couldn’t be more excited. All the prayers, all of God’s guidance, all of the processing with my girlfriend discerning how God is moving led to this season, this journey, this time.

In July, God asked me to #TrustTheUnknown. Literally, when that’s what God told me the upcoming season was going to be about – I didn’t like it – I fought with God about it. But, I knew, despite my objection, that’s what the season was going to be about. If you can’t fight it, you have to walk in it.

Today, while simply attending church, Kaye, one of our pastors, talked about how a disciple of Jesus has to be formed in the head, the heart, and the hands. Last season, #TrustTheUnknown I feel was about the head – forming my trust and my faith in uncertainty. Coincidentally, on New Years Day, as I was praying about this upcoming season, I believe God told me: #EmbraceTheUnkown. Myy heart and hands are to be formed next.

Tomorrow, I #EmbraceTheUnkown.

I don’t know what’s in store, but I know God is faithful.

God will move in amazing in mighty ways.

I can’t wait to look back on 2018 in 2019 and see what God did.

I’m humbled to be a part of it.


Christmas Expectations

When was the last time you had pretty big Christmas expectations?

Was it when you were little and were dreaming of that Red Ryder BB Gun or Barbie Dream House or a Lite Bright?

Have your Christmas expectations evolved over the years as you hoped for the dream vacation, the amazing meal, or time with beloved friends and relatives who have moved far away?

Do you now just look forward to the season, to soaking in the jolly, the hope, and the festiveness?

Better question. How often have those expectations been met? Did you get the gift you longed for? Was the meal perfect? Did your family get along harmoniously?

This year, I was so excited about Christmas. I had dreams of hitting all the Seattle Christmas festivities with my girlfriend, then doing the same in Orange County, and seizing the day getting my dose of blizzard in Minnesota meeting her family.

Until, I woke up last week with a blood clot.

My expectations were instantly changed. My hopes were shattered.

There was a choice to be made in this instant. I could have gotten mad. I could have chosen to mope. I could have chosen to turn into a walking bah humbug machine or have my heart decrease three sizes and become the Grinch. The pain in my leg was unbearable and not being able to walk is not how I was dreaming of spending Christmas.

But Advent is about hope. It’s about the coming of hope.

As I’ve sat on my rear for the last week, elevating my leg, taking blood thinners and pain meds, I was afraid I’d react like Clark Griswald after he learns his Christmas bonus didn’t come through like he was counting on.

Instead, that’s far from what’s happened.

Christmas season is not what I expected. Yet, I’m still excited to take my girlfriend home to see Orange County, and go to Minnesota with her to be a popsicle. It’s going to be fantastic.

Hope is here. Hope is always here.

Expectations won’t always be met – what matters is what we do with it when we see our expectations shatter.

Enjoy the hope of Christmas, the light of Advent the next few days. Soak in the light and let the hope free.


“Stop It or I’ll Bury You Alive in A Box”

I’m tired of it.

Men, I’m really, really tired of it.

Why do you have to keep giving us men such a bad name?


This pandemic of neanderthal, immature, pathetic, despicable masculinity needs to stop – yesterday. Actually, that’s not good enough. It should have stopped years and years ago. It should have never even happened in the first place.

I just don’t get it.

It isn’t that hard.

Really. It can’t be that hard. Right?

Wake up. Mature up.

Get your stuff together men. Today, tomorrow, and absolutely forever.

How hard is it to not sexually harass or assault another human being?

Just stop it!


Why do you do it? Why do you think it’s okay to treat someone that way?

The names, the stories, the faces, the people are numerous and growing. I can only imagine what it has been like to carry these scars, these wounds, these pains, these stories for all this time. I can only imagine the weight and toll it takes on a person to carry this for all this time.

How has it been so hidden for so long? What’s it been like for these brave women to carry these secrets and pain for all these years?

Now, as I think about all these brave women who have been willing to come out and begin to change the conversation – or start the conversation – all I can think of is how do we fix this? What needs to change? Why has it taken so long to change in the first place? It doesn’t make any sense and it hurts my soul.

It needs to stop.

It needs to change.

I’m tired of hearing these news stories. I’m tired of it.

So, if you’re man, I have a simple message for you – but first watch the video if you haven’t already.

“Stop it or I’ll bury you alive in a box.”

Work Formation

For the past hour I have pulled up my socks, downloaded gifs, texted, listened to podcasts, and doodled.

Now, to be fair, doodled is a bit extreme. I don’t want to give doodlers a bad name.

My definition of doodling is taking an old coffee sleeve from Starbucks and filling it in with a pen.

That’s true art.

All the while I’ve been doing this, I have been hoping for a magical e-mail to ping into my Microsoft Outlook inbox. I’ve been dreaming for something to do, to pass the time sitting in my cubicle til lunch. If it wasn’t for the cup of coffee I’ve been nursing all morning I may go crazy. I may also fall asleep at my desk if it wasn’t for this magical bean – that’s not a good look.

For this season of transition, of waiting, this is forming me.

Work, all work, forms us.

Not just the work which gives you callouses or makes your clothes dirty; not just the work that saves lives or rescues the orphan out of slavery.

All work forms us.

Even Microsoft Outlook.

Even spreadsheets.

Even the moments of work where you have nothing to do and you long for a stack of pencils, a pencil sharpener, and an office roof soft enough to allow your pencils a landing spot.

The boredom. The lack. The taunting blinking of the cursor. 

It shapes you. It forms you.

Where do you go in these spaces? Where do you find your mind wandering? Do you day dream like Walter Mitty?  Are you dreaming of the day you can retire or your fun weekend plans? Do you turn towards brainless TMZ gossip or do you find yourself looking for Jesus in your day, in your life, in the spreadsheet, in that blinking cursor?

The wandering. It’s soul shaping. It’s the moments you can see what bubbles up to the surface.

What bubbles up to your surface?



Can you believe it?

December is already here.

Advent is beginning. Houses are decorated. Trees are up. Lights be twinklin. Parties are being planned. The weather has a chill which feels like winter.

Can you believe it?

Red, green, and gold is everywhere you look. Wishlist’s have been sent off to Santa – or parents – your choice.

And, if you didn’t know it, Thanksgiving is long behind us and Black Friday gave way to Small Business Saturday, Cyber Monday, and even Giving Tuesday.

It’s December.

Where has the year gone?

I love December, for lots of reason. The Christmas seasons is definitely at the top of the list. It’s a time to celebrate, to give, to explore, to enjoy art and beauty, to eat good food, and be with your favorite people in the world.  It’s the best, smiling is my favorite.

It’s also busy; in a time which should encourage slowness and does – when we get there – the getting there is extremely busy. It can wear you down, it can make December fly by even faster than it should. I kind picture it getting like getting stuck on a treadmill or in one of those revolving doors.

That’s why I love Advent.

It’s a reminder to be expectant and anticipant of what can happen, of what God can do and wants to do.

Are you busy?

Is your calendar full?

Are you tired of circling in parking lots looking for a space?

Speaking of space, are you creating it or are you running at a pace too fast?

We all need space and we all have a pace.

How’s yours?

Practice and celebrate Advent.

Figure out your space and pace as we wind down 2017.

Season of Thankfulness

As 2017 winds down, the holiday season is already upon us. Our first beacon in taking a moment to savor our season, to examine where we find ourselves has already passed.

We’ve gone from enjoying the turkey and indulging on the second helping of desert to already forgetting about the leftovers in our fridges.

Therefore, on purpose, a few days late, I share what I’m thankful for – because I don’t want it to be confined to one day, to one meal, to a few minutes on Thanksgiving. I want to live my life in a posture of thankfulness I intentionally practice during the holidays.

I’m thankful for:

  • God’s continual and daily grace through His healing, making me new, and loving me despite my many imperfections and various screw ups.
  • Ellie. She’s a woman of grace, love, and compassion. Her tenderness and joy is absolutely intoxicating, invigorating, and motivating. She makes me a better man every day. She loves Jesus more than she loves me, and that is all I could want – on top of the multitude of compliments and praises I could give her.
  • Family: mine isn’t perfect, but I’m thankful for parents who taught me to love Jesus and follow Him. I have a sister who is a best friend, and and I don’t know anything more special. I’m even thankful for my brother, plus, I have three adorable nephews, so that’s a nice perk.
  • Friends: even over a thousand miles away, I have some of the best friends I could ask for. They are a brotherhood I don’t take for granted. In the past year plus, I’ve been able to begin to build community here in Seattle – through a few, strong, and deep friendships. I’m blessed through this daily.
  • Mentors: I know I’ll never have arrived as a man, leader, son, boyfriend, friend, brother, etc. Having older, wiser, stronger, men choose to pour and invest in me is something I long to model and pass down for generations. I’m thankful for those men in the past, in the present, and those people who are to come.
  • Since August of 2016, I’ve been living life in the season of #PacificNorthWelch. It has been one of the most challenging and rewarding times of my life. God has taught me, led me, grown me, and given me fresh vision for life and ministry. I seriously can’t imagine where I’d be or who I’d be without this season of my life.
  • There are hundreds of other items to be thankful for: books – fiction and non-fiction alike, an education, television, movies, music, sports, baseball, clothes, weather, the sun when it pops out from behind clouds, physical activity, technology, cars, planes, health, a job, physical activity, a roof over my head, the rain, nature, really amazing coffee, and Rainbow Sandals.
  • Maybe, as I think about it, I’m most grateful for what is to come. This past season has been incredible, but I know what’s before me is even better. I know God is calling. I don’t know what stories are to be told, but I can’t wait to find out.








Don’t let the busyness of the season cause you to lose sight of the season.

Getting Lost

Sometimes, you need to get lost in order to be found.

When you’re lost, you actually find out where you are.

In the wandering you find out where you’re heading.

A few weeks ago, on one of our adventures, my girlfriend and I got lost. I mean really lost. So lost, at one point, we seriously wondered if we’d ever make it back to our car and home to Seattle.

I’m sure you’ve been there – forgetting where you park at the mall during the holiday season, what level of the parking structure you happen to be on, losing the trail on a hike, or even having your GPS take you to the middle of nowhere – to a place GPS doesn’t even work.

Finding your way through life can be a bit of a maze and you don’t know you’re lost – until you’re lost.

We all get lost.

Getting lost is disorienting.

Back to my story a few weeks ago. For the first time in my life I did a corn maze (#bucketlistachieved). That corn maze was designed to get us lost and it did not disappoint. We got lost. In ways I couldn’t have foreseen.
In the middle of getting lost, all sense of time evaporated. An hour could have been a minute. A minute could have been a second.

At least it’s a good thing we were in a corn maze, because we would have had food to eat if we wound up out there for days.

Lost in a corn maze.

Walking through the corn stalks, the sun was peaking through the gaps. It was bright, yet, we were stuck in the shadows.

We were already lost. Everything was already looking the same. This shadowy maze of corn and people began to disorient us. Our thinking, our heads, got a bit hazy, and we got dizzy.


In the midst of our disorientation, I could tell my internal “I’m man and I’m a leader, I need to be able to figure out where we are going or my girlfriend is going to wind up disappointed in me and not find me attractive anymore because I can’t figure out how to lead us out of the corn maze” alarm was going off.  See, in my wiring, I put so much pressure on myself to be right, to be perfect, to know where I’m going, to see where God is leading, and if I can’t get my directional compass in check, I beat myself up.

I get defensive.

I blame shift.

I get frustrated.

This is not the pretty side of myself; it’s pretty ugly actually.

But this is what happens when you’re lost. You get a look into the makings, the tender part of your soul. It exposes what is actually going on, because what is inherently in you starts to bubble up.

As we were lost in the corn maze, my frustration was growing. My self worth and self image was rapidly decreasing. Honestly, I was afraid of letting it bubble up and ruining all the fun we were having at Bob’s Pumpkin Farm and Corn Maze.

Truthfully, we were lost because I couldn’t read the map. I thought I knew what direction we were heading, but then, every turn seemed to get us more and more confused. Go right, dead end. Go left, didn’t we past that pile of trash before?

Going in circles – that’s life isn’t it? Sometimes, when we’re disoriented, we seem to be going in circles – making wrong move after wrong move and winding up back where we started – if we’re lucky.

The disorientation makes us mad, makes us feel hopeless.

Until, we see hope.

Until, we sense the season is changing.


For us, in the corn maze, this happened, when we found a bridge in front of us. In this moment, we still didn’t know where we were. In fact, it was here, at the discovery of the bridge, where we learned just how off we were.

Yet, this bridge was the beginning of our reorientation.

The bridge above our heads, let us figure out where we were on the map.

At the bridge, we learned where we needed to go.

Our bridge was hope.

Our bridge was the beginning to the other side.

Our bridge chartered a new course for what was to come.

Once we hit the bridge, we knew how to read the map.

When we could read the map, we learned how to follow the map.

When we learned how to follow the map, we were faithfully, joyfully, right on our way again. The stress evaporated.

For the last several months, it would be an understatement to say I felt disoriented and lost.

My map no longer made sense.

It was frustrating. When I moved to Seattle over a year ago,  and started my #PacificNorthWelch journey – I didn’t know how it would play out. But, while I was here, encountering Jesus in the most beautiful ways, I began to dream and look ahead on the unwritten map. I began to write my own map and create my own trails.

Then, one day, I found out that map didn’t exist anymore.

It was a time of disorientation.

But, in October, the map began to get clearer – I had found my bridge.

Now in November, I’ve seen where this bridge led me to.

It’s better than I could have imagined.

I will give you all the credit, God –
you got me out of that mess,
you didn’t let my foes gloat.
God, my God, I yelled for help
and you put me together.
God, you pulled me out of the grave,
gave me another chance at life
when I was down-and-out…
You did it: you changed wild lament
into whirling dance;
You ripped off my black mourning band
and decked me with wildflowers.
I’m about to burst with song;
I can’t keep quiet about you.
God, my God, 
I can’t thank you enough.

Psalms 30:1-3, 11-2 (The Message)

The bridge just lets me know where I am on the map. I know where the trail starts, but I don’t know where it goes.

I can’t wait to see where it goes.

God has, and is going to work and move in amazing ways. God, please keep going before me. May it be so.

This #PacificNorthWelch adventure has only just begun.