a poem The footpath for mending lay bare, haunting steps behind and spying steps ahead release their crushing weight. Imagination wells in green eyes and tears of survival caress the wounded ground with tender care. Knocking on heart's door, God asks if you want to play with the flowers. The tulips smile as you learn again. As always, your presence is more than enough. If you'd like to support my work, current book publication costs, and all other creative endeavors, you can

a poem 1 Corinthians 3:6 NRSV I planted, Apollos watered, but God gave the growth I peeled back soil scattered the seed moved out of sun's way and let the ground drink deeply. I planned decided worked gave. And yet, the dirt remains still. And nothing has broken through since I've broken through at a quarter past two. Wild flowers don't grow on my command (that would be a disgrace to their name). Th

Here's my keepsake picture of me submitting my final manuscript files for Both And. If you are reading this, that tells me a few things: you care about me you care about my forthcoming book you like poetry you're a person of prayer you're along for the ride to watch me crash and burn LOL Regardless of your reason for taking a moment to stop and read this update, thank you. Thank you for being here. Each of you play a role in my story that ultimately becomes a beautifully rede

a poem Exhaustion settles as soul untangles from grip of darkness. Night aims its sight to shape and steal, Light moves toward you restoring zeal. Wondering about Light wandering— popcorn amusement as the fear dwindles and someday dies. As always, your presence is more than enough. If you'd like to support my work, current/future publication costs, and all creative endeavors, you can click the link below!

a poem Prayer belongs to the broken hearted, the weary, and those who keep their souls guarded. For those who leap, spilling laughter while picking lilacs of the land. For those who run laps around the spectators, whose senses lie dormant, begging to awaken to wonder. But even there, prayer holds the aching and the waiting. In the suffocation of clenched fists and the exhaling surrender of open hands, prayer is a wisp—finding its way into cave and pasture. For the griever swa

a poem Palms flutter in the wind of the King. Those in need for rule beyond self and those who see, walk in His dust. Blessed are thee. Some scoff and in the distance they remain. Not everyone knows how to walk with meek mules.

a poem We forget our passwords and papers, our Chromebooks and combinations, but never those moments of belief— a handful of kind words and a pocket of praise is all it takes to transform rotten days. When our hearts are heavy, shoulders stressed, and motivation slow as Monday— take a sweet sip of your diet coke, practice patience once more, and show us that we’re worthy of hope. There will be a day, when the sun rises, and we are no longer thirteen. The morning glow will h

A poem Facebook comments, every text, the calls I was too busy for— extensions of God's spoken belovedness over my life. Her words paved a trail of assurance, one that’s hard to find with her no longer here to guide. The sun’s brilliance stamped upon lilies,

a poem Deafening quiet falls like soot. Self-deprecating thoughts scream, ricocheting off wall decor that doesn’t exist. Each chair holds imprints of past warmth— now obscure pedestals for plants I meant to save from spoiled shrivel. Invading the space with a strange, yet hopeful glow, a small window cuts through the murky atmosphere. Sock-covered feet introduce the crunch of petals that were once deeply verdant, now jagged without jade—a humble reminder of failure. With each

a poem A soul person—a whole person. Brittle breath sustained by Holy Wind. Infinity and fragility built into blood, sent into motion with ordinary step. Each day—pathway toward life or death. Each moment—capacity for beauty or beast. With fear-loitering courage, I haul the monsters from secret shadows. The black holes of their empty eyes beg for submission. I begin to understand how I assembled these pieces in their reserved space, tucked away in chasmic corner beyond warm

a poem Today's scars reopening into yesterday's wounds. Rhythms of rest unwanted space for pain to inflame secret senses. Slowly leaking, motivation depleting. Mind knows discipline as an aly, body responds like an adversary. God’s crowned creation, six feet from eye's gaze— drenched in spotlight captivating attention, heart feels miles away. The stage is a cage— Sunday entertainment. Looked at not seen. Heard not understood. Used not loved. Transaction. The chase for con

I wrote this poem on October 3rd as I was drowning in shame after a heavy confession the previous day. A good friend reminded me of the Gospel I had been preaching for 11 years (from a paid platform) and said, "you've been paid to preach the Gospel for 11 years and NOW is the time for that Gospel to become true in your own life. What Gospel do you really believe, Ryan?" So I ask you: when the rug is pulled out from under you, what Gospel are you believing? When you hit rock b

Prayer is exhilarating. Engaging with Scripture is like exploring a new country. Setting aside a day for intentional rest is full of...

I’m 30 years old and I can’t pinpoint a moment of conscious awareness until about 2001. It was the year of 1st grade, playing...

My wife and I recently drove to Portland, Oregon to spend time with our friends for our anniversary vacation. One of the highlights from...

In my previous writing, I reflected on the fears and joys of an ordinary life. The reality of God's Kingdom invites us into daily joy,...

For those who have been following along since the first blog, you know that I began my Sabbatical at the end of April. During my...

To be clear, there isn't much commentary in this blog. The focus is aimed at my experience being in a 9-month cohort called, "School of...

The first humans (Adam + Eve) did something they weren't designed to do and rather than directing their desires at the God who could meet...

Work starts at 8AM, you snoozed your alarm too many times, and you have 30 minutes to get ready. In your hurried state, you manage to...