The Alchemy of Becoming: A Retrospective on My Theological Journey

Looking back at the archive of this blog is, in many ways, like looking at an old skin I have outgrown—not because the person who wrote those early posts was wrong, but because he was still in the process of being "emptied out."

When I first started documenting my thoughts here, I was a man who had survived the crucible of religious trauma. I had found safety in the loving arms of a United Church of Christ congregation in Phoenix, and my early theology reflected that need for safety. It was rigorous, intellectual, and perhaps a bit defensive. I used the complexity of academic arguments as a shield; if I could prove the logic of God’s love, maybe I could finally quiet the voices that told me I was the unworthy, gay, fat kid from Iowa who nobody liked.

But as the years have unfolded, the "Still-Speaking God" has done something more radical than just giving me better arguments. God has moved me from the head to the heart, from the internet to the bedside, from the "Kingdom" to the "Kindom", and from knowing God's love to feeling it.

From Intellectualizing to Presence

One of the most profound shifts I’ve experienced - and one I hope you can see in the changing tone of my writing - is the move from Theology as Knowledge to Theology as Presence. During my Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) journey, I wrote about the "emptying out" process. I realized that in the hospital room, my sophisticated defense of progressive Christianity is useless. What matters is the ability to sit in the silence, to make space for someone in spiritual distress, and to provide a ministry of presence . I stopped trying to explain God and started trying to embody God’s radical, unconditional love for God's children.

From Spiritual Bypass to Respecting the Braid of Lament

I have always intellectualized and tried to avoid my emotions. Throughout my entire youth, my emotions and the emotions of those around me were so overwhelming to me that at some point I had to "shut them off" to function. My entire adult life has been a process of reclaiming my vulnerability and authentic expression of feeling. But one of the things I am still challenged by is grief, sadness and dispair. My nature is to avoid them in myself and try to "make them better" and "fix" them in others. I want to skip over the crucifixion and jump straight to the resurrection. But as I’ve lived more, and as our world has grown more fractured, my theology has developed a necessary weight. I’ve learned to sit in the ashes like Job. I’ve realized that a faith that cannot lament - a faith that cannot look at the damage of Christian Nationalism or the scars of an abused spouse - is a faith that isn't fully human. My theology today is much more comfortable with the "Braid of Lament," knowing that grief and hope are two strands of the same cord, and that the book of Lamentations and one third of the Psalms exist for a reason. Grief is core to the human experience, and it is my job to feel it in myself, and remain present with it for others.

From Inclusion to Liberation

There was a time when I thought "inclusion" was the goal. I wanted a seat at the table. But my more recent posts reveal a shift toward Liberation. I no longer just want to be included in an "Empire" that was never built for me. I want to subvert the very concept of an empire that excludes and marginalizes. This is why I’ve moved away from the hierarchical language of "Kingdom" toward the relational warmth of "Kindom." My theology has become more prophetic; it’s no longer just about affirming who I am, but about reclaiming the "Divine Spark" in every marginalized soul and speaking truth to the powers that try to extinguish it. I seek to move from Open & Affirming ("OK, you can come in. You're OK") to Celebrating & Including ("We recognize the spark of God in you and we would be incomlete without you!").

Marginalized Bodies as Sacred Text

Perhaps the most vulnerable shift has been the reclamation of my own body. For years, I viewed my body size as my enemy and my sexual orientation as something God tolerated or accepted. Today, my theology holds that my body and my queerness are not defects to be looked past, but a lens through which I see the Divine more clearly. I’ve moved from asking for permission to exist to celebrating the idea that the Spirit speaks through our diverse, beautiful, and specific perspectives and lived experiences. Every person on this planet has become a teacher to me and I have become a teacher to myself.

Where I Stand Now

If you read my earliest posts, you see a man searching for a home. If you read my recent work, I hope you see a man who has become a home for others. My theology has been distilled down to its simplest, most beautiful essence: Love of God, love of self, and love of neighbor—with no fine print. In a country full of "Thou shall not's", I attempt to embody Jesus' bold vision of simple and unconditional love for all.

The journey hasn't been a straight line. It’s been a series of deaths and resurrections. And as I move forward into ministry, I carry every version of myself that has ever written on this blog with me - not as a finished product, but as a testimony to a God who is never, ever finished with us.

With love and holy mischief,

Christopher