That Time I Stood Up to a Homophobic, Transphobic Bully – Also, a Pastor

A storyteller I follow refers to his growth in the numerical unit of past iterations of himself. “That was eight Robs ago,” he’d say of himself, back when he used to believe one thing or behave a totally different way. I’ve started viewing my own growth in this vein, thinking about all the Toms that have existed in this singular Tom, particularly with regard to this active-passive dynamic. My passivity has run especially true in matters of relational conflict. Given the option to fight a conflict or flight a conflict (please excuse my incorrect usage of a noun as a verb in the name of symmetry), I will flight nine times out of ten. Ah, but then there’s always that one instance…

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What About Bob’s Son

I don’t know anybody in Ukraine myself. But I do know someone – a few someones – you can be praying for stateside. I’ve been reminded of Bob from my Running To adventure. Remember Bob? Sure you do. He’s the single dad from Maine, a university professor I found on Couchsurfing who asked if I was sure I’d had enough soup for dinner. Oh Bob. So folksy with that thick Maine accent. Bob never married but always wanted to be a dad. So, he adopted two sons: the older from Russia and the younger…from Ukraine.

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Do You See Me?

I did what You asked, I built what You told me to build, and it literally collapsed. So now what? Are You even there anymore? I feel the strain in Nathanael’s voice. The wavering. A desperate pleading to be seen.

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Beyond the Rot of This River

I’ve become more justice-minded in this year of isolation – to do something with this faith of mine. To borrow a vivid example from Ronald Rolheiser’s “The Holy Longing”: to not just retrieve dead bodies from the river, but to go upstream and find the source of all this death.

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To Watch the Storms of My Sadness

Gluggavedur, “window-weather,” is the notion of watching a storm from afar. Of being safely indoors, warm and secure, while the storm brews on the horizon. Lightning, swirling clouds, and rain – all seen through a pane of glass. The concept can be taken metaphorically, too, to separate yourself from your swirling emotions within. Of creating a space between you and the storms: sadness, anger, stress, fear, etc. Of not ignoring these hard feelings, but being aware of them, watching them from the other side of the glass…until they eventually pass.

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Am I Worthy of Your Giving?

Am I really worth your hard-earned dollars? Am I worth your kindness? You say I am, but am I really? I don’t want to waste my money – your money. I don’t want to buy things I don’t “need.” But I also “need” some amount of pleasure and joy. Can I buy a milkshake with your money? What about a new lamp for my studio? I want to make you proud of my journey, however much you’ve contributed to it. I want to be worthy of every cent.

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The God Who Won’t Speak Back

Six months into a pandemic, three into an autoimmune disease, my outlook feels more than a little frantic right now. Constantly on my phone or laptop and craving some sense of connection or novelty. A momentary break in the loneliness, the stuckness, and the waiting. Sometimes the break comes. Often it doesn’t. Often I am greeted with silence. Thick, dark. Empty.

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Break the Silent Madness

Sometimes the blogs come easily; sometimes they do not. Sometimes I feel as if I’ve nothing to say; other times, I have too much material to choose from. Sometimes it’s all safe stuff; sometimes it’s riskier. Take politics, for one. Oh the riskiness. Is that shudder from the wind or within? I’m finding it increasingly difficult these days to remain silent about politics while the insanity rages.

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A Time to Refrain from Embracing

Looking down at my precious niece in my arms, I realized it’s really something, how we need physical touch to survive. Need to be swaddled. Need to be held. Need to feel the warmth of another human emanating against us, if only to affirm to one another we are not alone in this desert. To embrace for my soul or not to embrace for my body? Life with an autoimmune disease during the pandemic of the century: one calculated risk after another.

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I Am Not in Control

I have control issues. I have known this about myself for a little while now. Counseling has helped me see it more clearly, though I feel I’ve known this for many years prior. I don’t like being at the mercy of my circumstances. Especially the mercy of another human.

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Thank You for Being Brave

I’m writing this blog from home. And I never blog from home. Like ever. I have no other choice. Nothing is open. No late-night coffee shops and no early-night coffee shops either, for that matter. Coronavirus has violently disrupted every facet of normalcy. Society’s. My own. Normal Monday evenings aren’t normal Monday evenings anymore. And for God only knows how much longer.

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Burn Up Your Psalms

I’ve participated sporadically in Lent over the last decade. Some years I think nothing of it; others, I’ve fasted from food or masturbation. I recalled this notion of psalm-writing. Of putting away my Bible and penning my own. As a writer, I feel it hold such an allure; as a human, too. I’d been wanting to connect with my Creator like this for many months. Why hadn’t I? What’s been holding me back?

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Broken Belonging

Looking back on the last 16 years, I see that “takes too much effort” excuse as an easy out. Digging deeper, I see something else blocking my pursuit of church membership: my self-worth. Surprise, surprise; it’s my single biggest struggle. Am I worthy of church membership? What do I even have to offer the church?

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99% of Toms

I wish to be different than 99% of humanity, yes, but lately I’ve pondered a new concept: what about being different than 99% of Toms? If 99 versions of me would choose to do one thing, do I simply follow along, or do I dare counter with the 1%?

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Stranger in a Familiar Land

The road has led me back to the Blue Ridge. Back in these hills rolling like moonlit shadows, just like I remember, just like always. I’ve been gone from this place for 82 days. Traveling as far away as Colorado and Maine and losing a grandfather along the way. And the way is still unfolding before me.

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Itch

I’m itching for home. God, I’m itching for regularity again. I’m itching for therapy and CrossFit and training for a marathon and the same coffee shops and writing my third book and building local friendships and taking Your Other Brothers to bold, new frontiers. I’m itching for this road trip to end.

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When Jesus Slides Into the Shadows

Before you even know it, Jesus slid into the shadows long ago. You thought he was still there. Like he’s always been. Like he always will be…right? But if we don’t intentionally keep Jesus atop our bookshelf…I think the Father is willing to let us turn other pages. To let us wander without for a bit.

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Go to Hell

Maybe instant healing and freedom do happen like that in other contexts, in other humans. I don’t know. I don’t know what that’s like. Maybe for the rest of us, though, the fight never ends. Maybe the enemy comes back, over and over.

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Do Not Calm This Storm

Jesus won’t calm the storm with a single word. His way is a way of work. Of picking up crosses daily. Of lugging said crosses up mountains. Of taking the narrower way of all the broader ways available to my wanderlust.

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Fucking Feel It

I know, I’ve already sworn and I’m not even past the first line. Please don’t be turned off. Please stay with me. When I worked in wilderness therapy a couple years ago, everyone made such a big deal about feelings. For example, you’d never answer “How are you feeling today?” with “I’m feeling good.” Because […]

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Snow That Traps and Beckons

I still remember sitting in that YMCA conference room last March, my third day of training for this new job and just my fourth day living in Asheville. I stared out the giant bay windows, mesmerized by flaky snow drifting downward from a vast gray expanse. This city I’d only ever known for summer camps and […]

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I’m Fucking Afraid of the Dark

Girls. In all my youth involvement over the years, I’ve never worked with young girls. Not exclusively, at least. Not in the classroom and certainly not in the wild. I’ve grown quite accustomed to boys of all ages. Boys who swear and fight and fart. For the second week of my new wilderness therapy job, however, I was working […]

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Why I’m Sad and Why I Might Run Away

I don’t often “vent” on this blog. I usually reserve such emotional outpourings for my journal. Or if I’m feeling courageous enough, with a trusted individual or two. To all who have personally suffered amid the snotty sniffling presence of a Tom-meltdown, I vigorously apologize. In these two-plus years of blogging, I’ve often considered the […]

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One Word 365: My Autumn Check-In

One Word 365: my succinct “theme” for 2012. I began this year with the declaration that these 365 days would be courageous. A year of leaps and bounds like never before. I checked in this spring with an update on my courageous moments. Not as a chance to puff myself up, but rather as a […]

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The End is the Beginning

This “final” session at camp was a doozy. I utilize quotation marks for reasons to be revealed later. Probably at the end. It was certainly the most exhausting session of the summer, and at times the most defeating. Coming off a near-perfect session, it was inevitable that this session just wouldn’t compare. Simply wouldn’t stack […]

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Repetitive Rains and New Names

I’ve been at camp for two weeks, and the first group of boys have returned home. Time to tell the tale of session one… The Arrival Waking up on Opening Day, I was incredibly anxious. I’d just endured two emotionally draining weeks of training, and this was what it was actually all about: the kids. […]

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Jesus Hit Me

I’M AT CAMP. And finally, I’ve got a chance to report what’s been going on these last couple weeks. Excited to share my experience with y’all this summer! During camp training, it was engrained within all the counselors that we, under no circumstances, were to ever hit a child. They said nothing about Jesus hitting […]

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Struggle Sunday: I’m Not Worthy

I recently spoke in church. Like…big-people church. Not children’s church or Sunday School or the nursery. It’s about as insane a claim as my slam-dunking over Shaq. At the start of the year I’d have given greater odds to becoming LeBron Tom than Pastor Tom. But God’s been challenging me this year. Calling me out […]

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One Word 365: My Spring Check-In

My One Word 365 for 2012 is courageous. After five months of this slightly less sparkly new year, I wanted to check in with my spring progress. Not in a puff-myself-up kind of way, but more of a trying-to-stay-accountable sort of way. In short, it’s been a life-changing year. In long… I met with one […]

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A Birthday Baptism by Buccaneer Bay

I was baptized last week. It was more “unconventional” in the sense that the event did not occur within the traditional confines of a Sunday morning service of a standard church building. I kinda like that. But though occurring on a non-churchy Tuesday night at a non-churchy water park, my baptism most certainly occurred in […]

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Why I’ve Never Been Baptized

Several years ago I watched my younger siblings do it. I’ve often wondered whether I would ever follow in their footsteps. Been questioned about it plenty of times. But I already have Jesus in my heart. I love Him dearly. He is everything; He’s the only thing. For nearly 25 years God’s will has superseded […]

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Struggle Sunday: To Boldly Go

My “one word” for 2012 is courageous. I picked such a word because of my struggle with boldness. And since courageousness is basically the antithesis of such a struggle, it just seemed like a fun combo deal. Like Happy Meals. When it comes to boldness, my life can effectively be split into two halves. I […]

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TMZ RETURNS & One Word 365

Oh hey there, TMZ’ers. Remember how I called you that once long ago? I didn’t like it then, and I still don’t like it now. But like picking a scab though it’s wiser to leave it alone and let it heal, I recycle the silly term and immediately regret doing so. Blast. So anyway, TMZ’ers, […]

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Engineering Smiles

I’m on a bit of a YouthWorks kick to start out my new blog, which is fair, considering YW’s pinnacle role in my life. I’m halfway through posting my summer recaps and am still unpacking so much since returning to southern California. One of the first changes I noticed about me was my dealings with […]

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Struggle Sunday: Fear of Man

I care. I care what people think of me. Care too much. And too much care has spiraled into fear, and that’s what this Struggle Sunday centers upon: fear of man. My particular fear of man majorly covers a facet I’ve long known about myself, but the root issue stems from something much more significant […]

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My YouthWorks Summer: Week 3

This is the fourth of ten blogging installments from my life-changing summer in Milwaukee. In this recap I review my third week of programming. Be sure to check out my postscript thoughts at the end! Postscript, end — seemed like a logical place for such thoughts. *** I cannot believe I’m three weeks into a […]

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My YouthWorks Summer: Week 1

This is my second of ten blogging installments from my life-changing summer in Milwaukee. In this recap I review my first week of programming after having two intense weeks of training and site preparation. Be sure to check my postscript thoughts on my first official YouthWorks week. *** I’ve got a week of camp counseling […]

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