Pentecost Episcorific

The Pentecost Issue of Episcorific came out this weekend. Here's the intro I wrote about the voice of young adults in the church.

Driving an un-air-conditioned truck on a stretch of Interstate 10 between San Antonio and Houston, my brother Jason and I decided we needed a new project. Despite living in the same apartment, we didn’t really spend that much time together. We needed something to facilitate a little more fraternal bonding. After discarding a few ideas– a band, a book club, racquetball – we decided to create a zine for young adults in the Episcopal Church.

In the time since the first issue of Episcorific was published a year ago, Jason has moved to Seattle to work for the Episcopal Church and I have enrolled at a school in New York to study writing. We’ve dated some people. We’ve made up our minds, then changed them. We’ve wrestled with ourselves and struggled with God.

This is the way it is with most young adults. Most of us discover that things don’t fall into place after graduation. It takes a while to figure out who we are and what we want. That doesn’t mean that young adults don’t have a lot to say. Whether it’s reflective, prophetic, poetic, or artistic (or all of the above) Episcorific is designed to be a place where men and women in their 20s and 30s can make their voices heard in the Episcopal community.

Episcorific has published the voices of young Episcopalians in five issues now. Contributors have examined the election of a new bishop as well as what it means to be a parent. They’ve explored worship and liturgy and written about the future of the church. They’ve told stories and shared their poetry and artwork. In all their voices, we can clearly hear the Spirit of God.

The disciples, sitting in the upper room, still determining what comes next, were stirred by wind and fire on the day of Pentecost. Filled with the Holy Spirit, they began to speak in different languages.

I can’t imagine anything more unsettling. One minute you’re sitting around with your buddies, the next you’re hair is on fire and you’re speaking a language you don’t remember learning.

In the midst of our own lives – unsettling and surprising in other, less dramatic, ways – we are called to speak. Perhaps all the things that we find somewhat unpleasant – difficult moves, new careers and shifting relationships – are the wind and fire that spur us on. They cause us to reexamine our lives, to look at the church in a new way, to question and push and exhort our community. It is sometimes difficult for the more experienced or better educated in the church and outside of it to hear the voices, surprised as they are that we are speaking their language. Go to any church and it is easy to see that the number of young adults in the church is small. But read the pages of Episcorific, and you will see that, like the disciples and the prophets before them, our voice is strong.

Akron/Family

Who doesn't love a band with a slash in their name?  Akron/Family's music is energetic, suprising, and lots of fun.  Check it out.

Today, from my Spam Folder

Occasionally I check my spam folder to see if anything important has accidentally been lost in the onslaught of misspelled advertisements for dubious medications.  Today, I discovered spam that I think was partially stolen from poetry by Edward Lear.  Wikipedia describes his work as literary nonsense.  Perfect for spam, I guess.  

Here's the text from a an email titled: Their heads are green and their hands are blue:  

To his Aunt Jobiska's Park.
Stolen away, stolen away
To the calm and silent sea
On top of the Crumpetty Tree
Fall asleep, fall asleep

GRACE Annual Benefit

The next two weeks are going to be really crazy as I prepare for the annual fundraiser for the Gulf Region Advocacy Center (GRACE), where I work. My posts might be a little less frequent because of that. If you ive in Houston, I hope you can come to the GRACE Annual Benefit!

There will be fajitas, beer from St. Arnold's, speakers, silent auction items including a week at a cabin, theater tickets, and art. If you don't live in Houston, then please consider donating GRACE.

GRACE provides legal defense for indigent men and women facing the death penalty. It's important and difficult work, especially in Houston where they execute more people than any other state except Texas. GRACE has had a lot of success keeping people off death row, but needs more support. Click here to donate. I've been working for the past several months planning this fundraiser, and hope that my friends (and whoever reads my blog) can join me. I think it's going to be fun, and it's going to help GRACE keep doing good work.

It's All Upside Down

Patrick Watson

Well, it's late, and I'm too tired to write something or draw a morose/ironic/ridiculous cartoon. Instead, I'm going to post a link to a a song I've been listening to over and over again. It's by Patrick Watson, which is a band, not a person. Please enjoy Big Bird in a Small Cage. If you don't like it, don't tell me.

Hungry? Why wait?

The Cross

Too Sacriligious?

Disclaimer: While I don't believe in a "personal relationship with Jesus," I am a follower of Christ. I know lots of people I respect who do, and I hope this doesn't offend them too much.

Know Thyself?

My brother has an orange Buddy scooter that he bought when he moved to Houston. I rode around the block with him just after he brought it home, but other than that I wasn't too interested in sitting on the thing. The road is hard, and I don't want to scrape myself against it. I prefer things with steering wheels and metal between myself and the asphalt.

About six months later, he borrowed my car and left it at my office in the sixth ward. Waiting for him to return, I decided to try riding it around the block. I sat on it, started it up, and - attempting to turn while confusing the gas and the brake - drove it directly into a ditch.

There are some experiences that challenge my sense of who I am. I've never thought I was a particularly coordinated person, but I also didn't think I was the sort of person that would crash a scooter the first time I tried to ride it. I didn't think I was the sort of person that would get a ticket for running a stop sign, either, but I am now trying to figure out how to resolve a ticket for running a stop sign (though, I'm going to go back and have a look at that stop sign and make sure it's not covered up by some trees or something, because I honestly didn't see it).


I like to think that I know myself pretty well. I think I'm pretty self-award (some might say self conscious). But maybe this is an illusion. After receiving my ticket, a friend of mine told me that some people think of me as the "creepy quiet one" when they meet me. Creepy?! Ouch.

Now, I know that I'm pretty quiet, especially in groups of people larger than three or four. You might even describe me as painfully shy, or even really awkward. I've thought a lot about this. But creepy? Really?

Maybe I am more creepy and clumsy than I thought. And a bad driver.

But I'm also surprised at myself all the time for other reasons. I didn't know I could plan three fundraisers, manage a successful non-profit, or get into the New School. I've learned during a recent breakup that I am relatively mature; that I know who I am and what I want. It's satisfying, to finally know who I am. Still, ultimately, it's somewhat false.

I don't believe our personalities are completely fixed. Even if they were, we clearly sometimes act "out of character." I generally pay close attention while driving, for example. I may strive to know myself, and get closer and closer to finding out who I am, but if I begin to think that I can't surprise myself, then I'm just kidding myself.

Why I Write

This is the "Statement of Purpose" I wrote for my application to The New School. I didn't let anyone read it before I sent it in, which would seem crazy if I hadn't been accepted. It is partially a sales pitch for myself, but mostly about why I feel compelled to write.


Throughout much of high school and college I believed that God was calling me to become an Episcopal priest. Unresolved doubt ended that, but I’ve realized since that what I really wanted to do was preach. My father took notes and improvised the rest, but I wanted to write mine out word for word: a carefully placed joke here, an intentional but subtle juxtaposition of ideas here, another joke here. And here.

Though my sense of calling has changed, my desire to express myself has not. Today, in addition to the occasional essay for a church publication or a grant for my job, I write a personal blog, write a reader blog for the Houston Chronicle religion website , and edit a national zine my brother and I created called Episcorific for young Episcopalians (episcorific.org). These allow me to take my experience and connect it to our common experience, to turn ideas inside out, to categorize the world or jumble it up until it is once again mysterious.

I started by personal blog as a means of self expression, but it took me six months to tell anyone about it. I was mostly afraid to tell my girlfriend, who is a fierce critic. I have since developed my voice as a writer, and just enough ego to put my work into other’s hands - including my now-ex girlfriend - so that they can tear it apart and help me put the pieces back together. I have come to love this process, always painful and almost always rewarding. I hope to continue improving my writing in the New School’s creative writing program. I know I have blind spots and areas that need improving, such as my ability to edit my work. I love to read, but there are gaps in my reading that are difficult to identify myself. I do not know that I can take the next step in my career as a writer without the help of a program and those who are as compelled to write as I am.

Perhaps what drives me to write is not a call from God, nor my suppressed exhibitionism, but the compassion that drew me to the priesthood. Compassion, it seems to me, is some mix of love and understanding, a desire to see others clearly and put the truth of the world into words. Compassion also led me to the Gulf Region Advocacy Center, or GRACE, where I work now as Director of Development. GRACE provides legal defense for the indigent who have been charged with capital crime in Texas, saving many from execution by the state. And while my work has always been meaningful and I will be an advocate for GRACE after I leave, my work there is not my calling. The words of Paul in his letter to the Romans – for I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate – have never seemed more appropriate than when I am sorting receipts at midnight so that I can send out an invoice. Of course, Paul was writing about sin, but part of me that knows that when I am not writing, I am sinning.

Radio in New York

The most exciting thing about moving to New York? Well, it might be the prospect of becoming a serious writer and studying with gifted authors. It might be living in one of the most fascinating and vibrant cities in the world. It might the idea of finally selling my car.

But what I'm really excited about? Radiolab! It's recorded right there at WYNC. And so is The Moth!

Seriously, The Moth and Radiolab both do great podcasts. Check them out.

Praying with the Prayer Book

May 7th is National Day of Prayer. Looking at my book shelf, you'd think prayer was a central part of my life. I own seven prayer books. The prayer book I received at confirmation, signed by the bishop, the one I bought in England at Canterbury, a prayer book printed in 1868, and a few others.

The Book of Common Prayer has been a central part of my prayer life for as long as I have been praying. Sunday mornings we would open the red books in our pew pockets to page 355, and begin our common prayer. Today, it is also central to my personal prayer life, though I no longer pray often.

As my doubts have grown and my faith has changed, it has been more difficult to pray. I have trouble conjuring the image of God as a close friend with whom I could hold conversations throughout the day, the way I once did. Still, often in the mornings, I grab my prayer book and say the morning prayer for individuals. It's short, but it centers me. I repeat the Lord's Prayer like a mantra, and take a few minutes of silence to center myself and try to listen to God. It's all I can manage at the moment.

I don't know if would pray at all if it weren't for the prayer book. It's a guide for my prayers, and a tool for my faith. The words of the Book of Common Prayer, are a joy on Sunday mornings, and a comfort on nights when I am, in the words of the BCP, "wearied by the changes and chances of this life."

Don't Forget

Music on Monday

Ok, well, it's not quite Monday anymore, but close enough. For the past month or two I've been listening to a lot of Blind Pilot. Their music is quiet and easy. Good travel music, though maybe I think of it this way because of their name.



Also, this band is lots of fun: The Suckers.

Quiche is Delicious

My friend sent me this CNN article this evening about guilty pleasures. Or rather, why men don't have guilty pleasures. It's not manly to talk about having guilty pleasures. Most guys learn early on that we are not allowed to talk about how fattening that desert we just ate is. You do that kind of thing, and you get called names that I prefer not to put into writing.

That's the thing that happened to me in middle school. I learned what I was allowed to say, and what I wasn't. If I said something that was a little too girly, or made a joke that was a little too goofy, or talked too much about my feelings, my friends mercilessly made fun of me.

It wasn't all bad. It toughened me up, and my jokes are funnier because of it. Still, I haven't quite learned my lesson. I'll tell anyone that I agree with this guy: Quiche is delicious. I kind of like chick flicks starring Matthew Perry. And I like to talk about my feelings; put all that embarrassing and painful stuff out there. I think this blog is pretty clear evidence of that.

Is this a good thing? I don't know. I have a bad habit of getting onto Facebook when I'm upset and lonely and writing status like "I can't wait until this horrible month is over" and "sad." These, apparently, just make me sound pathetic. And a little like a teenager: ridiculous and emotional and completely lacking perspective.

I'm not really embarrassed by my feelings, but it's easy to forget that while I have a personal blog and a personal Facebook page, the internet is a public space. And just like I had to manage my image in in middle school to avoid being called names or kicked in the shins, it might be wise to manage my internet image as well.

But not too much. I'm going to go to bed now, and wait for this horrible month to be over.

Episcopalians Don't like Torture

A recent survey by the Pew Research Center found that Evangelical Protestants were the most likely to say that torture is often or sometimes justified. The group most likely to say that torture was never justified were those unaffiliated with any religious organization.

I doubt this is a direct relationship. Maybe more to do with education level and political affiliation of evangelicals. But it's saddening. If loving your neighbor as yourself doesn't mean you shouldn't torture them, then I don't know what it means.

A side note: mainline protestants (which includes Epsicopalians!) were the religious group most likely to say that torture is never justified. Ten more points to Episcopalians.