The Soapbox of a Boy Named Drew.

Today is the first day of Advent but it has felt far from it. The first Sunday in advent usually holds a bit of excitement for me as I get to see the sanctuary dressed in evergreens, stress about making sure the wreath liturgy is in place, and making communion meaningful as we prepare for Christmas. However, today was different. Being a shepherd without a flock is interesting. One might think it would be a holiday or vacation. Instead, it feels as if something is missing. There is a hole in my heart where where a congregation once held space. Loneliness, insecurities, and doubt all have taken up residence where a community of believers once lived.  Today, I woke up with no church to attend. No liturgy to plan or sermon to deliver. I longed more than anything to simply attend a church service and worship in community. Yet, there’s no place nearby to belong. I searched and thought and tried to come up with a plan but ultimately, there was no place for me to feel safe and secure as th...

Living with behavioral health illnesses is a silent struggle that many people don't even realize is there. For years I lived with undiagnosed depression and anxiety. Only after realizing that weakness is found in not going to therapy and strength is found in going to therapy; did I begin to find healing. One of the main things I discovered about myself is the limited thinking patterns I had placed on myself. Allowing myself and others to place "shoulds" on me limited my self-acceptance. I should do this; I should not do that - it is a constant process of adding and removing the bars of expectations. During the first quarter of seminary, I remember sitting in a classroom frustrated with the instructors. They insisted we write academically, which usually means using vocabulary the general public would need a dictionary to understand. My frustration came out of the fact that academic writing is not my authentic self. I didn't go to seminary for another set of bars, I...

When I was in upper elementary and middle school, I played on the basketball team. Not because I was good at it, but because all my friends played. On scrimmage day though, the coach would divide all the guys up to play against each other, and he would say we were going to play shirts versus skins. I was chunky in school and mortified at the thought of having to take my shirt off in front of all my friends and play basketball. Every single week, the coach would put us through this whole process of separating us out, and my heart would pound out of my chest just praying I would not get put on the skins team. However, low and behold God heard my prayers. Not once did I ever get put on the skins team. As I grew older, I figured out that it wasn’t necessarily that God heard my prayers, it was more our coach put all the chubby boys on the shirts team and only had the more fit guys play on skins. I am still forever grateful for coach separating us fat boys out from the skinny guys. Isn’t i...