Encounters

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Guatemala: Discovering Discovery

February 29, 2012

My first foreign mission trip was to the indigenous people of Guatemala. I led a gaggle of high school students into the mountains of Guatemala for three weeks. We lived in the community building of a small village, hired a local cook, performed music and a crappy play (to the delight of the locals), and explored, explored, explored. Continue Reading →

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I’m Getting Stoned During Lent

February 27, 2012

I’ve decided to get stoned for Lent. As I walked into my church’s sanctuary on Ash Wednesday, I had no intention of doing the deed. In fact, for years I have easily avoided this peculiar tradition. Just because other people get stoned it did not mean I had to join in.

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The Sin Shirt

January 30, 2012

Every man I know has one that they keep covered up most of the time.  As one of their most prized possessions, they’ve had ‘it’ for as long as they can remember. Nobody else would ever dare touch it and if they saw it they’d most likely gape in disgust. Yet each man protects his own like ‘it’s’ a newborn babe. Even though it’s implausibly ugly it usually remains remarkably soft, comfortable, and fits like a second skin. If these men are married, their spouse is sure to recoil in horror every time they pull it out. But like clockwork,

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Between a Rock and a Hard Place

July 7, 2011

I love survival stories. Man vs. Mother Nature often carries high drama, nail-biting moments, tough choices and remarkable heroism. The most dramatic survival story of the last decade was that of Aron Ralston. The young mountaineer and risk addict was enjoying an easy canyoneering hike outside of Moab Utah. As he climbed into a slot canyon, a boulder weighing more than a half-ton, fell onto his right arm.  It pinned Aron’s arm hopelessly to the canyon wall. He was trapped and alone.  With minimal water and food, Aron survived 127 hours before cutting of his arm with a dull multi-tool

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The Cliffs of Moher

July 5, 2011

Majestic, terrifying, glorious and dangerous. These are the only inadequate descriptions that come to me as I try to capture, in words, the splendor of the Cliffs of Moher. On the very edge of Ireland’s western wilds, these magnificent 700-foot precipices hang over Galway Bay and the Atlantic Ocean.  This region, known as the Burren, is defined by land formations that are more akin to moonscape than anything of this world. These strange geological patterns abruptly end at the Cliffs. For ages, Irish monks came to this spot and looked out toward the Otherworld, the Island of the Blessed, calling

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Come to the Table

June 13, 2011

The center of my family’s universe is hard to find. You must first travel to central Iowa and head east on Highway 30 until you get to Grand Junction. Take 144 north for another ten miles. You’ll see the baby blue Paton water tower from miles away. Then right past the ancient graveyard, filled with my ancestors, you’ll take a left onto 130th Street.  You’ve arrived in Paton, Iowa. Paton is a small town. This village of seven streets and a population of 250 is isolated from the rest of humanity by a sea of cornstalks that surround it like

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Buying Jesus a Big Mac

June 6, 2011

I first sat down with Paul at a soup kitchen in 2003. Our Wonder Voyage team was serving at a weekly outreach in the East Village of New York City. Paul had emigrated to the U.S. from Ireland in the mid 1990s in search of work. He was a professional chef and jobs were abundant in NYC.  We had an instant connection through his hometown of Galway, where I had lived for a few summers. We shared a meal, great conversation and a lot of laughs. “What’s your story Paul? How did you become homeless?” I asked. “I had a

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