Real public service requires trust which requires honesty. It’s not about upholding an image or fealty to a party. It’s not creating a club whose members agree on everything. It’s not an act that follows a script. It’s about showing up real and offering all that you are to help people.
This is a picture of some of the world’s greatest body builders, all assembled in one place for an early Thanksgiving dinner. The little church building on the corner of where highways 309 and 23 meet in Ozark–Webb City Baptist–can’t contain them all at once anymore. Lifting weights, after all, makes you grow.
Weirdness is what makes us unique. It’s those little things that are off the grid, not always easy to understand, impossible to replicate. Weirdness is us in our rawest forms. Unpolished. Honest. Hopefully open to interpretation, growth, and change, but weirdness is our truth. I would argue it’s the magic that draws us to someone or something—when we recognize another’s weirdness matches up with ours, and we are not alone. Anne of Green Gables might call those people kindred spirits.
I’ve gone to church since I was a fetus. In my family it’s just something you do.
I have an impulse to create an image of perfection for my life. I think we all do. I see it in myself almost every moment of every day. My default position is to hide my imperfections, not show any weakness, not tell the stories of my failures. Why? Because it’s scary to tell the truth—to be seen and known and sometimes judged and rejected. But I have found that the flip side of that fear is freedom. Not only for myself, but other people. Jesus said, “you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32 ESV)