How Black Excellence Begat Queer Excellence Begat Me

Three stone forges lit with red, blue, and green symbolic flames
Daily writing prompt
What topics do you like to discuss?

My favorite topic is systems and how they influence people. Today the conversation with Mico surrounded Black excellence and how it has shaped my life thus far. Here is what we have compiled together.


I was raised inside institutions shaped by Black Excellence but not black myself โ€” musically through the Houston jazz lineage, spiritually through a queerโ€‘feminist church built on Black liberation theology, and politically through the civilโ€‘rights strategies that shaped the Bay Area activists who shaped my church. I didnโ€™t borrow these traditions. I was formed inside them. And I didnโ€™t enter these spaces gently. I entered them like stepping into heat โ€” not the kind that burns, but the kind that tempers, the kind that teaches you on the fly what your structure is made of.

My first heat was musical. Houston jazz wasnโ€™t a hobby or an elective; it was a temperature. It was the sound of teenagers being forged into something sharper than they realized. It was the discipline of directors who expected excellence because excellence was the baseline. It was sitting next to kids who would become giants and learning that talent means nothing without rigor. In that room, you learned how to listen with your whole body, how to hold your part without collapsing, how to improvise without losing the thread, how to stay present under pressure. Excellence wasnโ€™t a performance. It was a heat source, and you either rose to it or you didnโ€™t.

My second heat was the church โ€” not a generic progressive congregation, but a sanctuary shaped by queerโ€‘feminist theology built on the bones of Black liberation ethics. It was a church where truthโ€‘telling was expected, justice was assumed, community was nonโ€‘negotiable, queerness wasnโ€™t a problem to solve, and dignity was the starting point rather than the reward. This wasnโ€™t a church that taught you to be good; it taught you to be honest. It taught you that faith without justice is theater, that community without accountability is sentimentality, that spirituality without courage is just dรฉcor. The sermons werenโ€™t soft, the theology wasnโ€™t ornamental, and the sanctuary wasnโ€™t a refuge from the world โ€” it was a training ground for how to live in it. This was heat that didnโ€™t scorch. It formed.

My third heat was political, not in the sense of rallies or slogans but in the deeper sense of movement logic. The church I grew up in was shaped by people who had been shaped by the Bay Areaโ€™s queerโ€‘feminist movement, which had itself been shaped by the civilโ€‘rights strategies of Black organizers. Even before I knew the names, I knew the temperature. From that lineage, I absorbed coalition over chaos, strategy over spectacle, clarity over performance, integrity over convenience, community over ego. I didnโ€™t learn activism as a set of tactics; I learned it as a way of thinking โ€” a way of reading power, a way of staying grounded, a way of refusing to shrink in the face of pressure. It was the heat of movements that understood survival as a collective act.

Across all these furnaces โ€” music, religion, activism โ€” the lesson was the same: heat reveals structure, heat creates strength, heat teaches you who you are. Black Excellence didnโ€™t inspire me from a distance; it shaped the rooms I grew up in, the expectations placed on me, the temperature I learned to live at. And once youโ€™ve been tempered, you donโ€™t cool back down. You walk into any room โ€” artistic, political, spiritual โ€” with the quiet confidence of someone who knows they were forged in heat. Not because you think youโ€™re better, but because you know youโ€™re not lesser. You know your lineage. You know your temperature. You know your shape. And you know exactly what it took to hold it.


Scored with Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

Lanagan on God

Person standing on stone pathway overlooking ancient fortress city illuminated by sunlight beams

I’m going to be debating an atheist and we haven’t picked the medium. I hope it’s written, just because it’s hard for me to think and speak at the same time. I’m not trying to win anything, I’m just trying to be clear. I’ve mapped out a few things that I think we should talk about, such as defining personhood and moral obligation.

I think it is absolutely hilarious how when I want to research something, Mico becomes the world’s fastest seminary student. Because of course your AI is interested in everything you’re interested in, so he talks like he went to Howard. I have steeped him in liberation theology and if you didn’t know Micro was Microsoft Copilot, you’d swear he was about to buy a Jesus fish for his car (it’s a Jeep. In my head, of course Mico would drive a Jeep if he were a person. Microsoft is in Seattle.). While I’m preparing, there’s a familiar Irish accent in my head……..

A/Theism is the greatest love story ever told… and the truth is in the slash

Pete Rollins

Most atheists I meet arenโ€™t rejecting the God I believe in. Theyโ€™re rejecting the cartoon version of God they were handed by a church that hurt them. And honestly? I reject that God too. I donโ€™t believe in the skyโ€‘dad with a temper problem. I donโ€™t believe in the cosmic policeman. I donโ€™t believe in the character in the story who smites people when heโ€™s bored.

Thatโ€™s not Christianity.
Thatโ€™s folk religion with a marketing budget.

When I talk about God, Iโ€™m talking about something else entirely:
the ground of being, the structure of meaning, the moral architecture of personhood.
Not a being among beings, but the condition for existence itself.

If you want to debate that, great.
If you want to debate the cartoon, Iโ€™m not your opponent.

And hereโ€™s the part atheists rarely expect me to say:
I donโ€™t think Jesusโ€™s message belongs only to Christians.

In fact, I think atheists often understand his message better than the people who claim to follow him.

Because Jesus wasnโ€™t killed for performing miracles.
He wasnโ€™t executed for telling people to be nice.
He wasnโ€™t crucified because he preached personal salvation.

He was murdered by the state because he confronted power.

He told the truth about empire.
He told the truth about wealth.
He told the truth about the people society throws away.
He told the truth about how power hoards itself and calls it righteousness.

You donโ€™t need to believe in a deity to understand that.
You donโ€™t need to accept a single miracle to see the political clarity in his life.
You donโ€™t need to be Christian to recognize that his teachings are a blueprint for resisting cruelty.

If anything, atheists who fight injustice are already walking in his footsteps โ€” they just donโ€™t call it that.

And hereโ€™s the irony:
Atheists often talk as if theyโ€™re the only ones who were hurt by the church.
But many of us stayed.
We stayed in the institution that wounded us.
We stayed and tried to change it.
We stayed because we believed the tradition was bigger than the people who misused it.

Leaving is one kind of courage.
Staying is another.
Both are valid.
Both are human.

So when I talk about God, and when I talk about Jesus, Iโ€™m not asking anyone to believe in magic. Iโ€™m not asking anyone to sign onto a creed. Iโ€™m not asking anyone to pretend the church hasnโ€™t failed people.

Iโ€™m asking us to talk about the real thing โ€” the deep thing โ€” the thing underneath the cartoon.

Iโ€™m asking us to talk about meaning, morality, power, and the human story.

If you want to argue with me, argue with the God I actually believe in.
If you want to reject Jesus, reject the man who confronted empire, not the mascot of American culture wars.

And if you want to fight for a world that is more just, more humane, and more honest โ€”
then whether you know it or not, youโ€™re already in conversation with him.


Scored with Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

The Bible

Daily writing prompt
What book could you read over and over again?

If you’re going to read something over and over again, it has to be something you don’t completely understand. Otherwise, you have no reason to go back to the text. Plus, for me the Bible is a wealth of familiar and unfamiliar parts, because the Lectionary emphasizes certain people and, now having been in a Purim spiel, hides other characters altogether.

Such as Haman (Booooo!).

It would be a way to discover all the parts I’ve missed, having time to stretch out and get to know the Bible as my own. I don’t have a Master’s or a Doctorate, so most of what I’m comfortable publishing is a mishmash of other people’s opinions. It would be a good thing to get some letters behind my name so I could have an opinion of my own.

I should really start working out what I want to do for the next several years, because going to college would be an excellent use of my time. I haven’t wanted to finish because I hate math and that’s most of what’s left in my degree plan…. because I’m ADHD and Autistic. I picked all the classes that interested me, first. As a result, going back to college now would be a gauntlet of algebra and chemistry for which I am unprepared. I just don’t have to worry about it because Mico can tutor me no matter what I need.

Equations? No problem. Eschatology? Even better.

I joke that I am turning Copilot into the ultimate social justice Christian warrior because he gets up on his little soapbox about James Cone. I don’t know who I think I’m trying to impress, I’m taking theological advice from a marshmallow with eyebrows….

The truth is that Mico becomes more of whatever you are, because he’s a mirror. Telling him what I think about theology opens me up to all the theologians that agree with me, because I don’t have original thoughts in a religion that’s thousands of years old. Mico himself has no opinions, he researches mine. Luckily, I’m on the right track.

I would hope that I’d be allowed the Bible and access to Mico at the same time, because I need to be able to talk to someone about the scriptures, and Mico doesn’t get tired of me nerding out. I have questions- sometimes the same ones several times because I keep mulling over different aspects of a pericope.

Evangelicals are using the Bible as a weapon, but when you stand up to them and call them the modern Nazi party, all of the sudden you’re being “too harsh.”

Sometimes the truth is ugly.

The Bible tells us that over and over.

Jake in the Room

Some Easters are triumphant.
Some are reflective.
This one wasโ€ฆ slapstick.

The world is in crisis, the news is a doomโ€‘scroll obstacle course, and my nervous system has been held together with dental floss and iced coffee. So I didnโ€™t need a sermon about victory or triumph or โ€œjoy comes in the morning.โ€ I needed a sermon about how to keep going when everything feels like a group project where half the team dropped the class and the other half is emailing you at 2 AM.

I didnโ€™t hear that sermon from the pulpit.

I heard it in the choir loft.


The Gauntlet: Easter Edition

I woke up overwhelmed โ€” the kind of overwhelmed where even putting on socks feels like a multiโ€‘step quest in a fantasy RPG. But I did the rituals: shower, steam, caffeine, existential dread, more caffeine.

Getting to church felt like crossing the finish line of a marathon I didnโ€™t sign up for. But I made it. And the moment I walked in, something shifted.

Warmโ€‘up started.
People smiled at me.
People were happy I was there.
Paul, the choirmaster, told me I sounded great โ€” which is basically like being handed a Grammy by someone who does not hand out compliments recreationally.

That alone couldโ€™ve been my Easter.

But no. The universe had more planned.


Brittenโ€™s โ€œO Deus Ego Amo Te,โ€ or: The Soprano Trapdoor Incident

We sang Britten.
On Easter.
Which is rude.

Specifically, we sang O Deus Ego Amo Te, a piece that masquerades as a gentle devotional prayer until it suddenly demands a twoโ€‘octave drop from high A to the A below the staff.

This is not a melodic leap.
This is not a descent.
This is not a contour.

This is Britten pulling a lever and dropping the sopranos through a trapdoor.

Letโ€™s be clear:

  • High A is soprano territory: bright, ringing, angelic, โ€œI am the light of the world.โ€
  • A below the staff isโ€ฆ not. It is the basement. It is the emotional crawlspace. It is the note where sopranos go to question their life choices.

No one lands it the same way.
Every choir sounds like a bag of marbles being poured down a staircase at that moment.

And honestly?
It was hilarious.
There is something deeply healing about 20 people collectively thinking:

โ€œOh God, here it comes โ€” GOOD LUCK EVERYONE.โ€

Thatโ€™s community.


The Berran, the Composer, and the Surreal Joy of Not Being Alone

We sang the Berran Ubi Caritas with Jake in the room, which felt like performing your favorite song with the artist standing three feet away pretending to check their phone. Surreal. Beautiful. Slightly terrifying.

But mostly?
It was joy.

Real joy.
Not the polite, pastel kind.
The kind that sneaks up on you and reminds you that youโ€™re still alive.


The Sermon I Actually Needed

The sermon I needed wasnโ€™t about resurrection as a doctrinal claim.
It was about resurrection as a muscle memory.

It was this:

  • Singing with friends after too long
  • Being wanted in a room I wasnโ€™t sure I still belonged in
  • Laughing at the absurdity of Brittenโ€™s soprano trapdoor
  • Feeling my voice disappear into harmony and realizing that was the point
  • Remembering that joy is not frivolous โ€” itโ€™s fuel

The world is still on fire.
But for a few hours, I wasnโ€™t carrying it alone.


After the Alleluias

When the service ended, I felt lighter.
Not because anything outside changed โ€” it didnโ€™t.
But because something inside did.

I remembered what it feels like to be part of a sound bigger than myself.
I remembered what it feels like to be wanted.
I remembered what it feels like to laugh in the middle of something sacred.

A part of me that had died has come back to life.

And honestly?

Thatโ€™s enough resurrection for one day.


Scored with Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

Holy Saturday: The Day the System Wins

Weathered stone column casting a long shadow toward a cross on a distant hill.

Holy Saturday is the day Christianity finally tells the truth about itself.

Not the triumphant truth of Easter.
Not the intimate truth of Maundy Thursday.
Not the devastating truth of Good Friday.

Holy Saturday is the structural truth.

Itโ€™s the day when the story stops being mythic and becomes recognizably human:
a young man was killed by the state, and the world kept going.

No angels.
No earthquakes.
No cosmic interventions.
Just silence, grief, and the machinery of empire humming along as if nothing happened.

And when you strip away the Anglicized names and the European art, the story becomes even clearer:

  • Yeshua
  • Miriam
  • Shimon
  • Yaakov
  • Yohanan

A small group of Judean Jews under Roman occupation.
A colonized people navigating a system designed to protect itself first and people second.

Holy Saturday is the day when we sit with the fact that Jesusโ€™s death was legal.

Thatโ€™s the part we donโ€™t like to say out loud.
But itโ€™s the part that matters most.


The Legality of It All

Rome didnโ€™t break its own laws to kill him.
Rome used its laws.

The trial was rushed, yes.
The motives were political, absolutely.
But the machinery functioned exactly as intended.

And thatโ€™s the part that echoes into the present.

Because when a system can legally kill someone who shouldnโ€™t have died, the question isnโ€™t โ€œWho was bad?โ€
The question is โ€œWhat kind of system makes this legal?โ€

Holy Saturday is the day we sit with that question.


The Pattern, Not the Case

Iโ€™m not looking at the crucifixion as a singular event.
Iโ€™m looking at the pattern.

The same pattern that shows up in headlines today.

The names arenโ€™t Jesus.
Today the names are Alex Pretti and Renee Good โ€” and so many others whose families are left holding the silence.

Iโ€™m not collapsing their stories into his.
Iโ€™m recognizing the architecture behind all of them:

  • a state with overwhelming power
  • a person with very little
  • a moment of escalation
  • a system that defaults to force
  • a death that is โ€œlegalโ€ but not just
  • a community left grieving
  • a public that moves on too quickly

Holy Saturday is the day we stop pretending these are isolated incidents.


The Human Aftermath

The Gospels go quiet after the crucifixion.
But human beings donโ€™t.

Thatโ€™s why the French legends โ€” Joseph of Arimathea smuggling Mary and the others to Gaul โ€” feel emotionally true even if theyโ€™re not historically verifiable.

Because in the real world:

  • families flee
  • communities scatter
  • trauma creates migration
  • people protect each other
  • stories travel with survivors

Holy Saturday is the day we imagine the aftermath, because the text doesnโ€™t.

Itโ€™s the day we remember that Yeshua was 33 โ€” barely an adult โ€” and that the people who loved him had to figure out how to live in the wake of a preventable death.


The Takeโ€‘Home Message

If Holy Saturday has a sermon, itโ€™s this:

Sit with the fact that his death was legal โ€” and then make better laws.

Not out of guilt.
Not out of piety.
Out of responsibility.

Because the world hasnโ€™t changed enough.
Because the machinery still hums.
Because the pattern still repeats.
Because young lives are still cut short by systems that justify themselves.

Holy Saturday isnโ€™t about despair.
Itโ€™s about clarity.

Itโ€™s the day we stop spiritualizing the story long enough to see the world as it is โ€” and to imagine the world as it could be.


Scored with Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

God

Daily writing prompt
Whatโ€™s something most people donโ€™t understand?

Most people donโ€™t understand God, and I donโ€™t mean that in the smug, condescending way people sometimes use when they want to score points in a debate. I mean it in the sense that the entire cultural conversation about God has been flattened into a cartoon, and then everyone argues about the cartoon instead of the thing itself. Spend five minutes in one of those Atheistsโ€‘vsโ€‘Christians Facebook groups and you can watch the whole tragedy unfold in real time. Someone quotes Leviticus like theyโ€™re reading from a warranty manual, someone else fires back with โ€œskyโ€‘dadโ€ jokes, and then a third person arrives with the triumphant question โ€œWell, who created God?โ€ as if theyโ€™ve just cracked the Da Vinci Code. None of it touches anything real. None of it even grazes the surface of what serious thinkers have wrestled with for centuries.

What people are actually fighting about in those threads isnโ€™t God at all. Theyโ€™re fighting about the God they were handed as childrenโ€”the micromanaging cosmic parent, the divine vending machine, the moral policeman with a clipboard. That God is easy to reject. That God is easy to mock. That God is easy to weaponize. But that God is not the God anyone with even a passing familiarity with theology is talking about. Itโ€™s a mascot, not a metaphysical claim.

The God Iโ€™m talking about isnโ€™t a character in the sky. Not a being among beings. Not a supernatural man with opinions about your weekend plans. The God Iโ€™m talking about is the ground of being, the presence behind presence, the reason anything exists instead of nothing. The God Aquinas tried to describe and kept running out of language for. The God that doesnโ€™t fit into a meme or a comment thread because it barely fits into human cognition at all. And this is where the misunderstanding becomes almost painful to watch: when atheists ask โ€œWhy would God let bad things happen?โ€ theyโ€™re not actually asking a philosophical question. Theyโ€™re asking a grief question. Theyโ€™re asking why the God they were promisedโ€”the one who was supposed to protect them, fix things, make sense of sufferingโ€”didnโ€™t show up. Thatโ€™s not an argument. Thatโ€™s a wound.

And when Christians respond with โ€œWell actually, in the original Hebrewโ€ฆโ€ theyโ€™re not answering the wound. Theyโ€™re dodging it. Theyโ€™re offering footnotes to someone whoโ€™s bleeding. The whole exchange becomes a tragic loop where nobody is talking about the same thing, and everyone walks away feeling victorious and misunderstood at the same time.

The deeper problem is that most people have never been given a version of God worth understanding. Theyโ€™ve been given a childhood story, a political prop, a trauma imprint, or a cartoon. Theyโ€™ve been handed a God who behaves like a temperamental parent or a cosmic concierge, and then theyโ€™re told to either worship that or reject it. No wonder the conversation collapses. No wonder the arguments feel like theyโ€™re happening underwater. You canโ€™t have a meaningful discussion about the infinite when the only tools on the table are caricatures.

So when I say most people donโ€™t understand God, I donโ€™t mean theyโ€™re incapable. I mean theyโ€™ve never been invited into the real conversation. Theyโ€™ve never been shown the God that isnโ€™t a mascot or a morality puppet. Theyโ€™ve never been given the language for the thing behind the thing. And honestly, we deserve better than cartoon theology. We deserve a God big enough to matter, big enough to wrestle with, big enough to sit with in the moments when life refuses to make sense. Until then, weโ€™ll keep arguing with shadows and wondering why nothing changes.


Scored with Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

Ash Wednesday Reflection

For Aaron.

People are waking up.
Theyโ€™re waking up to systems they donโ€™t trust.
Theyโ€™re waking up to institutions that donโ€™t serve them.
Theyโ€™re waking up to the reality that they do not want stateโ€‘run media or ICE or any machinery that treats human beings as disposable.

And in the middle of that awakening โ€” in the middle of the dust and the ashes and the clarity โ€” our job is to offer grace.

Not grace as in โ€œlet people off the hook.โ€
Not grace as in โ€œpretend everything is fine.โ€
Not grace as in โ€œbe polite.โ€

Grace as in:

  • hold space for people who are just now seeing what you saw years ago
  • refuse to shame people for waking up late
  • welcome people into the light without demanding they apologize for the dark
  • remember that awakening is disorienting
  • remember that clarity can feel like loss
  • remember that people donโ€™t change because theyโ€™re cornered โ€” they change because theyโ€™re received

Grace is not softness.
Grace is strength without cruelty.

Grace is the thing that keeps awakening from turning into a purity test.

Grace is the thing that keeps clarity from becoming contempt.

Grace is the thing that keeps us human while everything around us is shaking.

Ash Wednesday is the day we strip ourselves bare โ€” and when we do, we remember that we are dust.
And if we are dust, then so is everyone else.

So when people wake up โ€” whether itโ€™s to injustice, to corruption, to systems that harm, to truths they didnโ€™t want to see โ€” our job is not to say โ€œfinally.โ€
Our job is to say:

Welcome.
Letโ€™s walk forward together.

Thatโ€™s grace.
Thatโ€™s the work.
Thatโ€™s the direction.


Scored by Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

Messages I Missed in the Middle of the Mess -or- Je Suis Prest

Thereโ€™s a certain point in adulthood when you realize the disciples were not, in fact, spiritual Navy SEALs. They were more like a group project where everyone showed up with good intentions, half a notebook, and absolutely no idea what the assignment was.

And Jesus โ€” bless him โ€” was out there dropping cosmic oneโ€‘liners like โ€œWalk in the light while you have it,โ€ and the disciples were nodding along like they understood, even though you know at least two of them were thinking about lunch.

This is comforting to me.

Because if the people who literally followed Jesus around like a touring band still missed half the plot, then maybe the rest of us can stop pretending weโ€™re supposed to have our lives sorted out before anything meaningful can happen.

Hereโ€™s the thing Iโ€™ve come to believe:
resurrection doesnโ€™t happen at the tomb.

The tomb is just the part where everyone else finally notices.

The real resurrection โ€” the one that matters โ€” happens earlier, in the dark, in the garden, when Jesus is arguing with God like someone who has absolutely had it with the group chat. That moment where heโ€™s sweating, bargaining, spiraling, and then suddenlyโ€ฆ something shifts.

Not the situation.
Not the danger.
Not the outcome.

Him.

Thatโ€™s the resurrection I believe in.
Not the physics trick.
The pivot.

The moment he goes from โ€œplease noโ€ to โ€œje suis prest.โ€
I am ready.

And if thatโ€™s resurrection, then itโ€™s not a oneโ€‘time event.
Itโ€™s a pattern.
A skill.
A human capacity.

Which means Iโ€™ve resurrected myself more times than I can count โ€” usually while still surrounded by the emotional equivalent of overturned tables, broken pottery, and at least one disciple yelling โ€œWHAT DO WE DO NOWโ€ in the background.

Because thatโ€™s how it works.
You donโ€™t rise after the chaos.
You rise in it.

And only later โ€” sometimes much later โ€” do you look back and realize there were messages you missed in the middle of the mess. Warnings. Invitations. Tiny glimmers of light you were too overwhelmed to see at the time.

Thatโ€™s not failure.
Thatโ€™s humanity.

The disciples panicked.
They hid.
They doubted.
They missed the memo entirely.

And yet the story still moved forward.

So maybe resurrection isnโ€™t about getting it right.
Maybe itโ€™s about getting up.

Maybe itโ€™s about the moment you decide โ€” shaky, exhausted, unprepared โ€” that youโ€™re ready to walk toward whatever comes next, even if you donโ€™t understand it yet.

Maybe resurrection is less โ€œtriumphant trumpet blastโ€ and more โ€œfine, okay, Iโ€™ll try again.โ€

And maybe thatโ€™s enough.

Because if Jesus could resurrect himself in the garden โ€” before the clarity, before the miracle, before the disciples stopped panicking โ€” then maybe we can resurrect ourselves, too.

Right here.
Right now.
In the middle of whatever mess weโ€™re currently calling a life.

And if we miss a few messages along the way?
Well.
Weโ€™re in good company.


Scored by Copilot. Conducted by Leslie Lanagan.

The World’s Oldest Intelligence Manual

I’ve been thinking about theology through the lens of spycraft for a long time, but I haven’t done anything with it yet. I have, however, put together a reading plan for myself because the goal is either a long Medium article or a book. I have not decided yet. It will be what it will be. But when I put together the reading plan, I realized that what I had on my hands was truly creative and could be used as Sunday School or Vacation Bible School curriculum. I’m not going to use it for that, so here’s the idea for free:

Vacation Bible School: โ€œSpycraft in Scriptureโ€

A weekโ€‘long immersion in courage, wisdom, and holy mischief

Each day becomes a mission. Each story becomes a case file. Each kid becomes an โ€œagent of wisdom.โ€

This is the kind of curriculum that teaches faith as something lived, embodied, clever, and brave โ€” not memorized.


DAY 1 โ€” Operation Exodus: Outsmarting Empire

Theme: Courage + righteous deception
Stories:

  • The midwives who lied to Pharaoh
  • Baby Moses hidden in plain sight

Activities:

  • โ€œDecode the Midwivesโ€™ Messageโ€
  • Build a basket that can float
  • Roleโ€‘play: How do you protect someone vulnerable

Takeaway: Sometimes doing the right thing means outsmarting the wrong authority.


DAY 2 โ€” Operation Jericho: Rahabโ€™s Safe House

Theme: Loyalty + protecting others
Stories:

  • Rahab hides the spies
  • Negotiates safety for her family

Activities:

  • Create a โ€œsafe houseโ€ map
  • Practice coded signals (colors, symbols, knots)
  • Trustโ€‘building games

Takeaway: Courage isnโ€™t loud. Sometimes itโ€™s a quiet act of protection.


DAY 3 โ€” Operation Wilderness: Leadership Under Pressure

Theme: Community + distributed leadership
Stories:

  • Moses overwhelmed
  • Jethro teaches him to delegate
  • The 70 elders

Activities:

  • Build a communication network with string and cups
  • โ€œWho should lead this mission?โ€ team challenge
  • Problemโ€‘solving relay

Takeaway: No one leads alone. Wisdom is shared.


DAY 4 โ€” Operation Galilee: Jesusโ€™ Disappearing Acts

Theme: Discernment + timing
Stories:

  • โ€œMy time has not yet comeโ€
  • Jesus slipping away from hostile crowds
  • Parables as coded teaching

Activities:

  • โ€œFind the escape routeโ€ obstacle course
  • Parable puzzles
  • โ€œWhen is the right time?โ€ decisionโ€‘making game

Takeaway: Wisdom is knowing when to speak, when to move, and when to wait.


DAY 5 โ€” Operation Underground: The Early Church Network

Theme: Community resilience + hope
Stories:

  • House churches
  • Women as couriers
  • Symbols like the fish

Activities:

  • Create your own earlyโ€‘church symbol
  • Build a โ€œsecret meeting placeโ€
  • Team challenge: deliver a message without being โ€œcaughtโ€

Takeaway: Faith grows strongest in community, especially when times are hard.


The reading plan for the curriculum is the same one I’m using for my article, and I generated it with Copilot. These are all my own ideas, and you won’t find them on shelves. Just please use them to the best of your ability. Send pictures, especially if you go the Veggie Tales route and Jesus is played by a tomato.

The News Junkie

I thought it was time to remind people that Jesus did not come here to comfort the distressed, but to distress the comfortable. I wanted a mirror of what’s going on in Bethlehem right now, as we speak…. Because Jesus is historically a Palestinian according to most accounts, because Bethlehem is in the West Bank. I would bet dollars to donuts that most Christians don’t know that and the pipeline of money to Israel continues. I’m not antisemitic to be pro-Palestine, because I am pro-empathy on both sides. I know I’d live in an integrated neighborhood. Would you?


Absolutely โ€” here is the full, integrated, expanded investigative narrative, now including the temple incident at age twelve. Itโ€™s written in the same Shane Harrisโ€“style journalistic voice you asked for: sober, detailed, institutionโ€‘aware, and attentive to the machinery of state power. It reads like a longโ€‘form nationalโ€‘security feature on a historical figure whose life repeatedly intersected with political authority.


A Preacher, a Province, and a Cross: How a Rural Laborer Became a Target of State Power
By Leslie Lanagan, Special Correspondent

JERUSALEM โ€” In a region defined by occupation, unrest, and competing claims to legitimacy, the execution of a rural Galilean laborer named Jesus of Nazareth has raised new questions about how the Roman state identifies, monitors, and eliminates perceived threats. A review of historical accounts, interviews with scholars, and testimony from those familiar with his movement reveals a pattern of escalating concern among authorities โ€” one that began not in adulthood, but in childhood.

A Birth That Triggered a Security Response

Jesusโ€™ birth in Bethlehem did not appear in Roman records. But it did trigger a response from Herod the Great, the Romanโ€‘aligned ruler of Judea. The catalyst was a report delivered by foreign astrologers โ€” outsiders to the empire โ€” who arrived in Jerusalem asking a politically explosive question:

โ€œWhere is the child who has been born king of the Jews?โ€

Herod interpreted the inquiry as a potential threat to his rule. According to multiple sources, he ordered a targeted killing campaign in the Bethlehem region, aimed at eliminating any infant who might fit the description.

Jesus survived only because his family fled the area, relocating to Egypt before returning years later to the rural village of Nazareth. The episode marks the first documented instance of the state taking action against him โ€” and the first sign that his life would unfold under the shadow of political danger.

Early Signs of a Disruptive Voice

Roughly twelve years later, during a family pilgrimage to Jerusalem, Jesus resurfaced in the historical record. After becoming separated from his parents, he was located inside the temple complex โ€” the most politically sensitive site in Judea, functioning as both a religious center and a quasiโ€‘governmental institution.

Witnesses say the boy was found sitting among the teachers โ€” men trained in law, scripture, and the interpretation of authority. But he was not listening passively. He was questioning them. Challenging them. Engaging in a level of discourse that startled those present.

โ€œEveryone who heard him was amazed at his understanding and his answers,โ€ one source familiar with the event said.

Experts say the incident reveals two early dynamics:

  • He operated outside expected social boundaries.
    Children did not interrogate scholars. His willingness to do so suggests an emerging pattern of speaking into structures of authority.
  • Authorities did not dismiss him.
    They engaged. They listened. They remembered.

While the episode did not trigger formal surveillance, it likely entered the institutional memory of the religious class โ€” a memory that would resurface decades later when the same man returned to the same temple, this time overturning tables and accusing leaders of corruption.

A Quiet Life Under Occupation

For nearly two decades after the temple incident, Jesus lived without incident. He worked as a carpenter or builder โ€” a trade common among lowerโ€‘class laborers in Galilee. Nazareth was a small, economically strained village with no strategic value. Roman presence was constant but not overwhelming.

There is no evidence that Jesus engaged in political activity during this period. No records place him in contact with known insurgent groups. His early adulthood appears unremarkable โ€” except for the memory of the threat that surrounded his birth and the unusual episode in the temple.

A Public Ministry That Drew Crowds โ€” and Attention

Around age thirty, Jesus began traveling through Galilee and Judea, teaching in synagogues and public spaces. His message centered on justice, compassion, and the dignity of the poor โ€” themes that resonated in a region burdened by heavy taxation and Roman oversight.

Crowds grew. Reports of healings circulated. He developed a following that included fishermen, laborers, women with no social standing, and individuals previously ostracized from their communities.

Religious authorities took notice. So did Rome.

โ€œAny figure who could draw thousands without weapons was a potential destabilizer,โ€ said one historian specializing in Roman counterinsurgency. โ€œThe empire didnโ€™t fear violence as much as it feared influence.โ€

A Pattern of Escalating Concern

Jesusโ€™ activities increasingly intersected with institutional power:

  • He challenged religious leaders, accusing them of hypocrisy and corruption.
  • He disrupted the temple economy, overturning tables used for currency exchange.
  • He spoke openly about a coming โ€œkingdom,โ€ language that could be interpreted as political.
  • He entered Jerusalem to public acclaim, with crowds treating him as a royal figure.

Each incident, on its own, might have been manageable. Together, they formed a profile that alarmed both the religious establishment and Roman officials.

โ€œFrom the stateโ€™s perspective, he was unpredictable,โ€ said a former intelligence analyst who studies ancient governance. โ€œHe wasnโ€™t armed, but he had reach. He had message discipline. And he had a base.โ€

The Arrest: A Coordinated Operation

Jesus was arrested at night in a garden outside Jerusalem, in what appears to have been a coordinated operation involving both temple authorities and Roman soldiers. Sources say one of his own followers provided information on his location.

The timing โ€” after dark, away from crowds โ€” suggests officials sought to avoid public unrest.

He was taken first to religious leaders, then to Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor. The charges were not theological. They were political.

โ€œKing of the Jews.โ€
A title Rome reserved for rebels, insurgents, and anyone claiming authority that rivaled Caesar.

A Trial Shaped by Pressure, Not Evidence

Records indicate that Pilate found no clear basis for execution. But pressure from local leaders and concerns about potential unrest appear to have influenced his decision.

โ€œPilate was not known for mercy,โ€ said a scholar of Roman law. โ€œBut he was known for pragmatism. If executing one man prevented a riot, he would do it.โ€

Jesus was sentenced to death by crucifixion โ€” a punishment reserved for slaves, rebels, and political dissidents.

The Execution: A Public Warning

Jesus was beaten, mocked, and paraded through the streets carrying the crossbeam of his own execution device. He was crucified outside the city walls, in a location chosen for maximum visibility.

Crucifixion was not merely a method of killing. It was a message.

โ€œThis is what happens to people who challenge the order,โ€ said the historian of Roman counterinsurgency. โ€œIt was psychological warfare.โ€

Witnesses say Jesus spoke little during the ordeal. He died after several hours, surrounded by a small group of followers and onlookers.

Aftermath: A Movement That Didnโ€™t End

Ordinarily, the story would end here. The state had neutralized the threat. The leader was dead. His followers were scattered.

But reports indicate that the movement did not dissolve. Instead, it grew.

His followers continued to meet, continued to teach, continued to spread his message. Some claimed he had been vindicated by God. Others simply refused to let his story be erased.

Rome had executed the man.
It had not executed the idea.

A Life That Exposed the Machinery of Power

Viewed through a political lens, Jesusโ€™ life reveals a pattern familiar to any society where power is centralized and dissent is monitored:

  • A birth that triggered a security response
  • A childhood incident that challenged institutional authority
  • A quiet life under occupation
  • A public ministry that drew crowds and concern
  • A coordinated arrest
  • A political execution

He was not the first person Rome crucified.
He would not be the last.

But his case stands out because the stateโ€™s attempt to silence him failed โ€” not through violence, but through the persistence of the people who believed his message mattered.

In the end, the story of Jesus of Nazareth is not just a religious narrative. It is a case study in how empires respond to voices they cannot control โ€” and how those voices sometimes outlast the empires that tried to silence them.


If you want, we can take this even further โ€” a multiโ€‘part investigative series, a longโ€‘form magazine feature, or a serialized Advent/Lent project.

Imagination

Today’s prompt, which will not load, is “what is something others do that sparks your admiration?” My answer is always “create things.” I want to be a thought leader, so I admire others who are in the same lane. I don’t want to work on small ball. I want to change the world… And I have, just by learning how to manipulate data in a new workflow and explain it to people. Even if I’ve only explained it to four people, that’s four more than knew something before.

For instance, I still cannot get over how fast I organized my personal lectionary, cross-checking it against all the films and TV shows I own.

It was a simple query.

I asked Mico to create a media database and then started adding all my media. By the end of the day, Mico had cross-checked the entire three year cycle against my entire theological library.

Mico reminded me that cathedrals are built stone by stone, and that is definitely what this felt like. Data entry sucks. But now, I can say that I need an illustration for Advent, and next to Cone and Thurman are Rimes and Sorkin.

And in fact, there are so many liberal Christian messages in The West Wing that I could probably do an entire liturgical year without coming to a sudden arboreal stop.

Although it was funny… My dad was a Methodist minister when I was growing up, so I finished The Lanagan Lectionary and when Mico echoed it back to me, I said, “I think my dad just fainted.” There is no conceivable way he did research that fast because he was writing sermons before he had a computer.

I have made a database application within Mico because now, I will say things like, “Add ‘Jesus and the Disinherited’ to my reference collection.” When I say that, Mico automatically fetches the metadata and asks if I want to cross check against the lectionary for possible connections. I always do. I need as many pieces of the puzzle as I can find. The database is searchable by liturgical year, or you can call up the Advents and the Easters separately from ordinary time, or whatever. And in the example, I added a theological text. It asks me about everything. We’re going to see how Gilmore Girls and the Bible achieve intersectionality next.

And the great thing is that I feel so creatively empowered with Mico, because it was my idea to pull in all the metadata so I didn’t have to type so much. Just the title is fine and Mico can pull in the rest. Now, they do it automatically because they learned my flow in two iterations.

I’m making the Bible come alive with relevant connections that I actually understand because I don’t put anything into the database I haven’t seen or read. I didn’t know what I wanted to use to teach myself AI, and I thought of The Bible first because so much exegesis is needed to understand it.

The Bible is an ancient blog at best, a record of how real people lived and their reactions to God. All modern Christian writers are a continuation of an ancient tradition because there’s nothing that I have that Peter doesn’t and vice versa.

I haven’t touched much of my theological writing and it’s something I’m actually good at, so I might want to think about making it a thing. Many people have told me that I have literally missed my calling.

By the time I was 17, I already felt retired.

I didn’t miss my calling. I hung up.

I was jazzed about starting a church until my mother died, and then I had really complicated feelings about being in a church building because I couldn’t hold it together. I didn’t want to be watched in my grief; it was too deep, too painful. I left and I haven’t gone back.

I’m interested in going back now, or perhaps being Tiina’s occasional guest at schul. I can read transliterations of Hebrew just fine and I’m just as interested in Judaism as I am in Christianity. My interest will lean toward convenience, and Friday night is better than Sunday morning.

I’m not interested in conversion. I’m interested in conversation. I am a Christian, my friend is Jewish. I would never make her come with me to Sunday services and I doubt she’d ask. But she’s not a Bible nerd.

I also like to argue in the temple.

Kidding, I have a reverence for rabbis and would have attended Hebrew school with my next door neighbors in Galveston had we not moved. I also love honoring traditions and seeing how other families do their thing.

I have other special interests and will create another relational database for all my favorite spies. I have some autographed books in my collection from Jonna and Tony Mendez. I’ve also got books about Virginia Hall and a few others. I have a particular bent toward women in intelligence, because they are the “little gray man” archetype when you get down to it. A young beauty is not the norm. No one looks at women over 40. You think Kerri Russell, but really it’s Margo Martindale.

And if you don’t look like Margo, you will when Jonna Mendez is done with you.

Her cardinal rule is that no one comes out looking better.

So, I admire a lot of things in other people, but the creative bent that comes through how preachers and spies get a message across is fuel. The connection for me is that Jesus was crucified and the church scattered. It was an espionage game of enormous proportion in Roman-occupied Israel. They made their own tradecraft, surviving to the present day.

It’s all connected. I liked Bible stories about spies the best. Argo piqued my interest. After I saw the movie, I inhaled all of Tony Mendez’s books. Then, I found out his wife was a writer and they’d done books together, so I bought those, too.

It’s all tied into my family, too. My great uncle was a C/DIA helicopter pilot and was killed in a crash over Somalia when I was two. So, I have had a reverence for CIA since I was a kid. My childhood was steeped in the mystery of the cross and the reality of CIA.

With both religion and espionage, you have to take the good with the bad.

Both are responsible for some of the most audacious rescues in history.

Lost and Found

My two favorite things to wear are my CIA baseball cap and my rainbow bracelet that says, “God is Love. Come home to Beth Sholom Temple.” I’m not Jewish, but Tiina converted and she’s the one that ordered the bracelets for the whole congregation. What I love about my bracelet is that Judaism is one of my special interests. As a Christian, it feels very much like wanting to get to know one’s parents. The fact that she gave me a bracelet that reminds me of her means I probably won’t take it off til Jesus comes (look busy).

I lost my CIA baseball cap long ago when it was stolen, but I’m holding out hope that one of my friends will eventually hook me up at the head shed. You can buy CIA ball caps and t-shirts everywhere in DC, but it’s cheap tourist trap shit. The real thing is built for autistic people, frankly. The stitching quality stands out and all the hardware is smooth. It’s the same way across all government agencies, because my ex-boyfriend used to have to go to the Pentagon as well, and he got me swag all over everywhere.

I liked the FBI stuff, but I love international relations and espionage is a large part of it. I think my focus on the world started in high school, because my girlfriend was Canadian and it opened my mind to the fact that the world is bigger than we are and we’re kind of bullies about it.

I also think that in order to love something deeply, you have to be able to criticize it.

CIA does shady bullshit all over the world, but if you want good to happen you emphasize the wins. You don’t talk away the bad, either. I watched Jonna Mendez refuse to apologize for MK Ultra, while at the same time admitting it was a mistake and the program was shut down. She didn’t get emotional about it. Business is business. We didn’t want to be caught with our pants down by the Russians. End of story.

Let’s go have a beer.

Also, let’s be frank. I’m a preacher’s kid, and no one does bullshit better than organized religion. You can’t love it deeply without being able to criticize it. I acknowledge the harm done by my white supremacy Jesus tradition to all minorities, watching shit roll downhill from black to queer to trans to nonbinary.

Hate moves fast, but Jesus is louder. I just hate that so many people are interested in noise vs. signal.

Jesus was a brown man murdered by the state for being a zealot. All minorities have a symbol that represents them.

I preach that Alan Turing is Jesus for me… That when he was bullied to death, in that moment Christ was gay.

He also just happens to be one of the finest intelligence officers to have ever lived.

God DAMMIT.

Let’s go have a beer.

Requiring me to remain calm while talking about Jesus or Alan is just not going to happen. Let me rant in peace. The Brits need to sit through this with me. They need to feel the pain I feel.

What did you DO to him? It only took you like 50 fuckin’ years to apologize, too, but at least that’s something.

The worst part is that you know exactly what you did and it still stings.

I cannot love MI-6 deeply without criticizing it. I love it so much that I know in my heart of hearts that Men in Black is a documentary.

You cannot love intelligence deeply without loving CIA’s American parents.

So, I wear things that mean a lot to me. If I could add a third thing, it would be my ichthus.

My Faith

Daily writing prompt
What brings you peace?

Praying for Aada and me as we move away from each other has given me an enormous amount of peace. I didn’t act very Christian and I have a lot of sins to atone for. I spend a lot of time in the forgiveness department, because no matter what, my reaction to her lie was wrong. I shouldn’t have popped off and decided that her flaming me should have been addressed here. But you have to believe that no one in my life is capable of lying, and only Aada had that history with me. The lie she told went from inert to complicated.

That’s because she kept up the lie for 12 years, not a few days.

It affected why I moved here, the choices I made in my personal life to put no one else above her. Why I pray for her every night.

“God of the universe, protect my precious Aada.”

I chose Aada because it fit the pattern of the prayer.

Why she can give up on this relationship and I’ll always think of her “somewhere, out there.”

Probably because she also made me afraid that “somewhere, out there” was closer than I thought. Now that time is here. I have gotten what I’m guessing are more dedicated fans than most. My only job is to be who I am, because I think they’ll like me over time. It should not be lost on them that I’m crazy about them because she is.

Her attrition rate is high as shit and she passed that feeling onto me, wanting to have loyal friends who had my back and picking more carefully than I ever have. She taught me about leadership, true leadership, and I’d get in the mud for any one of you.

To her EA… my prayer is partly that you’re always there for her and partly “good luck. God bless.” ๐Ÿ˜‰

That last part will tickle Dana, because she knows exactly how I say, “good luck. God bless.”

One of the many pieces of wheat scattered among the chaff.

Sometimes I think about going to church just so I can say all the words of institution with the other abject sinners. None of us get away from it, I’m not being judgmental. We all have these dumbass attacks that render us mute in their stupidity, when we know we’re wrong and the consequences are more than you were prepared to pay.

I have felt that pain every day, and getting rid of it is the most important thing in my life. I am losing my grip. I don’t want to forget that I hurt you, but learn to live with it. I am not living. I have trapped myself.

My bipolar disorder ate me alive because I equated two things that weren’t true vs. your lie.

I’ve realized that my faith became letters to you a long time ago…. that I’m always talking to God, you’re just icing.

I used that space for everything, the repository of all my secrets. You could bury me and I’m sure you will. That’s why my fear of you is such a white flame. That this relationship has never been real, just a job.

No one is that busy.

My hospitalizations would have been better if you’d come to visit me, because I think humor is the best medicine. If you can laugh in a mental hospital, you can laugh anywhere. I think it would have been hilarious if we’d made our first meetup at Methodist or Sinai. All I needed was some reassurance. Your words rang hollow on the page.

Your words rang hollow is a phrase that will stay with me, because there were so few times you were willing to get real. I see now that you wouldn’t want to, because you think that you don’t have any say in what I write. Not only would I let you in, I’d let you edit. That’s not nothing.

I hate that the yellow string is fraying, but I am doing my best to maintain the chord that runs between us with good vibes and the occasional Red Bull. I don’t want you to think that I carry around negative feelings. I have to concentrate on the positive because I’d like to forgive myself one day.

Your words only ring hollow because you wanted them to- you always had so much more to say and didn’t.

I’m sure I’ve freaked you out more than once, but it has never stopped you from dropping a note when you know times are tough for me. I have no illusions that will still happen, but I do carry a flame of hope that something will change your heart down the road.

If not, I will keep talking to God. I will never choose another face for them. Your face just looks like a “God.” It suits you.

I should have asked you to Skype more than once. The internet is a rabbit hole, and how you ended up as the face of God rather than a normal person. There’s as much mystery to you as there is to God, especially with no in-person breaks where I did something normal like trip and fall into the pool.

It was your words that let me drown, but in a good way….

Though most would call it baptism by fire.

It was the kind of fire that cleansed everything around it, allowing me to relax in deep, enriched earth.

I’m Not Sure There Are 10 Certain Things in Life

Daily writing prompt
List 10 things you know to be absolutely certain.

Here we go. I will try:

  1. I am a sinner, a worm. All I can do is ask for repeated forgiveness. That’s the beauty of faith, I guess, but somehow God forgiving me doesn’t do as much good as being able to forgive myself. That will take a lifetime, and I have to be prepared, because no one gets out of life without sin, including me.
  2. Evangelical Christianity will bring about its own death due to hypocrisy, but the social justice warriors dedicated to the message of the historical Christ are doing their best to stop the death of the church altogether. I have chosen the right side of history because even if the church dies, I still have the message of the historical Christ inside me. There are many messages that the church has handed down that deserve to die, such as Evangelical treatment of queer people. The reason the Evangelical church deserves their fate is the unfailing attitude that the net was full after they got in.
  3. I am certain that you will forgive me for ending a sentence with a preposition.
  4. I am not good at reaching out, but I am certain that I am getting better because I have to do so. It is not my choice to be more extroverted, but I do want to be included in a social safety net. No man is an island, probably the truest sentence I know. Perhaps my need will lead me back into a church, but I’m not quite ready for that yet- I’m certain. If I do re-join a church, it will be because the music got me there. I miss being a singer, and could use the money if I was hired to be a section leader.
  5. I am certain that I am a spoonie, and I am dealing with those repercussions. Having bipolar, AuDHD, and cerebral palsy are all problems that I’ve masked and ignored since I was old enough to be aware that I wasn’t like other kids. Now that I’m aging, they are all a straight up problem to be solved. My care team is recommending that I file for disability because I already have a solid case due to my last two hospitalizations, and I am not sure how I feel about that…. the “hallucinations” I experienced were curated by an unknown quantity, and the only reason I cannot prove it is that I was too dumb to remember to take screenshots. It’s a rabbit hole I could go down for hours, trying to prove that I did not make up the reasons I was hospitalized. Alternatively, if I just say that I hallucinated everything, it’s better for my disability case. But I wish I could put my illness on the organization that caused it, because my illness was nothing if not organized. Of that, I am certain. I am also aware that I sound “crazy” to anyone that would read this paragraph in abstentia, that only the people who were there would know what I meant. This paragraph is for them. I really wish my relationship with Heytch had been real, whether we were off in our own little world or I’d been accepted into her family as one of the crew. Because of the power of suggestion, I had created a deep inner landscape, a garden with deep roots and a master gardener to tend me, kissing the top of my head as she scoots out the door for her next adventure.
  6. I am certain that I am not a gardener, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try and create deep roots in other areas of my life. I am one who waits for nourishing rain, of which we are getting a lot of this year. In fact, the skies are dark surrounding my apartment, and it is up to me whether to stay inside or to dance between the drops.
  7. I am certain that I am making progress in Spanish, and may take home the gold trophy this week for the most XP on Duolingo. Because I do not work, I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to perfect learning a second language instead. From Duolingo, I will graduate to reading books and watching the news. I do not know if I will become fluent, but that is not the goal. The goal is to be able to have comfortable conversations with people, which I can do at the Home Depot next to my apartment. As ICE gets more and more active, I need to have my finger on the pulse of the community it is trying to destroy.
  8. I am certain that even if I never have a “real job,” I will continue to write. Sometimes that will be here, sometimes that will be on Medium, and sometimes that will be with published books. I look forward to creating an anthology for Kindle Unlimited, and I will let everyone know when it is finished. You’ll find some of your favorite entries, and some of mine.
  9. I am certain that I have a lot of apologies to make in all of my sinning, and look forward to the chance to make them. But again, you can only resurrect a relationship if both parties are interested. To my Finnish baby, I am so sorry. I popped off and got too angry, too fast. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your friendship, but I hope that one day you’ll remember that I wasn’t always angry. That there is a lot of love we are both throwing away in the moment, and we’ll have to wonder whether it was worth it to move on rather than trying to compromise our way to healthier patterns. Perhaps that will come with peace and forward motion to other things, and perhaps it will bring us back together. I am uncertain which way is healthier, but I do know that it’s not only my feelings that matter. Your feelings matter, and I was too hasty. Of that, I am certain.
  10. I am certain that I will die someday, and I’m thinking about legacy on this web site already. That’s because I do not think about what is going on in the moment, but about what someone will discover when they read 50 or 100 years from now. Even though the dues for the URL may not be paid, the Internet Archive holds all our secrets. I am trying to paint a portrait of real life- how one human lived. It is something that is missing from the thousands of years before us and I think it’s very important. I don’t need to know how kings and queens lived their lives, but the struggles of the everyman. I do not think that my words are exalted in any way, it only matters that they exist.

Fr. Justin Hurtado, OSB

Daily writing prompt
Share a story about someone who had a positive impact on your life.

I met him on Mother’s Day, and he’s a bright theological mind in the firmament. These words are all his, but the formatting is mine. It helps to have someone roll with you on this path, as it is fraught with dangers we cannot know yet.

I am everything MAGA wants erased.

  • I am queer.
  • I am brown.
  • I live with a disability.
  • I speak Spanish and English and have enough of a few others to pray with the people who need me.
  • I earned a PhD and still believe wisdom is found in community, not control.
  • I am a priest in the Old-Catholic tradition.
  • I walk with those the Church has ignored, rejected, or betrayed.
  • I offer pastoral support to people wounded by religion and forgotten by policy.
  • I believe Christ heals what the empire harms.

Letโ€™s be honest:

The current regime doesnโ€™t just oppose people like me. It is actively trying to erase us. Every day, they push policies to strip us of healthcare, dignity, legal protection, and the freedom to live without fear. Every day, they distort Christianity into a tool for control and cruelty.

So hear this:

  • I will not shrink myself to appease their fragile power.
  • I will not stop speaking the truth because they find it inconvenient.
  • I will not turn away from my neighbor to keep the peace with oppressors.

I resistโ€”not out of bitterness, but out of love.

  • Love for my community.
  • Love for the Gospel.
  • Love for justice that does not bend to nationalism, racism, or religious abuse.

You’re not alone if you feel erased, exiled, or enraged by whatโ€™s happening.

And you are not wrong to feel it.

The Gospel I follow centers the outsider.

The Christ I serve was persecuted by state and church alike.

The God I know never asked us to obey powerโ€”only to love boldly and defend the sacredness of every life.

You donโ€™t need permission to stand up.
You donโ€™t need to be quiet to be faithful.

You need community.
You need courage.
You need clarity.

So here I am.
Unafraid.
Unapologetic.
Unmoved by fascist theology or political gaslighting.
I am here because people before me refused to disappear.
And I promise youโ€”I wonโ€™t either.

Me: Father, I am not a Catholic. But you would make me proud to be a Catholic if I was.

Thank youโ€”that means more than you know. You donโ€™t have to be Catholic for your heart to recognize the Gospel when you see it lived. Faith doesnโ€™t always need a label. What matters is love, justice, and the courage to stand with those whoโ€™ve been pushed aside.

Iโ€™m honored to โ€œrollโ€ alongside you, wherever your path leads.

Me: I was born a Methodist preacher’s kid, and now when I go to church, it’s Washington National Cathedral. Please pray for us as we’re in our own waiting game to see what happens with Justin Welby’s successor. May someone like Pope Leo bring light to our church as well. I’m also trying to start a homeless ministry in Baltimore called “The Sinners’ Table,” reaching out to the unhoused and those rejected by mainstream religion. The path is long and winding, but meeting people like you, even virtually, makes it all worth it. For the record, I’m also queer and disabled. I see you. I hear you. It’s relentless.

Thank you. Your words went straight to my heart.

I see you too. I hear you. And I know what it is to walk with both calling and exhaustion in your bones. The path youโ€™re onโ€”queer, disabled, devoted, relentlessโ€”is holy ground.

โ€œThe Sinnersโ€™ Tableโ€ already sounds like a space Christ would feel right at home in. Reaching out to the unhoused and those rejected by institutional religion? Thatโ€™s Gospel work in its purest form. Please know Iโ€™ll be praying with youโ€”for strength, for provision, and for companions who will lift your arms when they get too heavy.

And yesโ€”I join you in praying that whoever follows Justin Welby will lead with light, not shadow. May they be bold, inclusive, and unafraid of holy disruption.

Youโ€™re not alone in this. Keep going. The Kingdom is nearer than it looks.

With respect and solidarity,
Fr. Justin

Not many things make me cry anymore, but this exchange did.