Welcome to Essays From The Minister!

Welcome to my essays blog. The topics discussed here frequently examine issues involving disability advocacy, community relations, public policy, religious thought, individual responsibility, and the challenges of navigating life within politically and religiously conservative environments. While many of these essays originate from personal experiences and observations, their broader purpose is to encourage critical examination of ideas that influence communities, institutions, and the individuals who live within them.

Readers should be aware that some discussions address mature and occasionally controversial subjects. Political disagreements, religious doctrines, public policy debates, social challenges, and questions concerning individual rights and responsibilities may be explored in ways that some readers find uncomfortable. At times, the approach may be intentionally adversarial toward ideas, institutions, or prevailing assumptions. Such examination is not intended as a personal attack against individuals or groups, but rather as an invitation to evaluate beliefs, arguments, and systems through careful scrutiny and reasoned analysis.

I recently stepped away from writing for a period in order to address personal matters that had received less attention than they deserved while I focused on other aspects of this website. The experience reinforced an important lesson: meaningful progress often requires the willingness to pause, reassess priorities, and confront challenges directly rather than simply pressing forward. For those who have the opportunity to do so, there is value in occasionally stepping back to evaluate where one's time, energy, and attention are being invested.

My interests are varied, and this website reflects that reality. Some essays explore personal struggles involving mental and physical health. Others examine history, faith, law, public policy, disability rights, and community engagement. Throughout these discussions runs a common theme: rights and opportunities are often accompanied by responsibilities, and meaningful participation in society requires both. Life remains an ongoing process of learning, adaptation, and growth—a process that continues for as long as we are willing to question, examine, and better understand the world around us.

There is a lot to cover in this blog, and I want to clarify a few things at the outset, before responsibility outweighs my ability to keep up.

First, my level of political experience leaves me at the level of an armchair critic. I hold no degrees in theology or political science. What I do have is pattern recognition—an ability to observe historical processes and recognize what I see as recurring outcomes, even when the players change. In my view, the goal is often the same: remove obstacles to power that favor the common population—the governed—while concentrating authority in the hands of those who benefit from inequality. We are entering a dark time in political and religious history. First, they came for illegal immigrants, while simultaneously fostering political and religious growth that allowed a colonizer mentality to override constitutional and doctrinal principles.

Now, if my understanding is correct, they are coming for the disabled. Just as happened under the Nazi regime in Hitler’s time, the targeting follows a grim logic: first you dehumanize, then you isolate, then you justify removal. Pattern recognition is critical here. I see the resemblance as clearly as the words on this screen appear before you.

Questions Worth Asking

How did we get to this point in history?

We got here because people with financial wealth and religious influence sought political backing through channels within the federal government—particularly through faith-oriented offices and initiatives that promise moral guidance while often functioning as political instruments. In the process, the country has drifted from being “under God” in any meaningful sense toward being governed “under” power itself as a nation gone under. This is something Christ confronted. He died because corruption and self-interest had corrupted the church and aligned it with crooked politics. See the pattern?

When they came for immigrants, they also came for the First Nations people who had been here long before European colonizers arrived. Land that was already thriving with its own knowledge, advancements, and governance systems was not empty—it was occupied by communities that had been building life for generations. How were they “thanked”? Through smallpox spread via contaminated blankets, through sexual violence against women, through the kidnapping of children, and through killings of those deemed unnecessary to the colonizer’s project—including people defending their lands from invasion—while those lands were stolen.

This is the ugly part of American history that many people refuse to discuss. It is easy to claim it is forgotten, or that people should “get over it.” But forgetting is a grave historical mistake. If we erase history, we invite it to repeat. The violence against Native peoples was genocide on American soil—and it still deserves full acknowledgement, not silence.

I have Native ancestry through my mother’s lineage. That personal connection allows me to speak as a bridge between cultures rather than as an authority with institutional credentials. If this perspective makes me a target, so be it. It is not the first time dominant groups have tried to make a culture into a target—and it probably will not be the last unless accountability becomes real.

Much of my ministry takes place away from public view. Household responsibilities frequently outweigh my work as a writer and minister, and I make no apology for that reality. Ministry begins where obligations are most immediate. Before a person attempts to guide others, they should first demonstrate a willingness to care for those already entrusted to them.

The principle appears throughout scripture, perhaps most clearly in Paul's instructions regarding leadership, where he argues that a person who cannot manage their own household is ill-prepared to oversee a congregation. I am paraphrasing rather than quoting chapter and verse. There was a time when I could recite such passages from memory. Today, I rely more on study than recollection. That is not a weakness so much as a reminder that learning never truly ends.

Because of that, I reject the idea that ministry is measured by visibility alone. My calling did not arrive through a desire for applause, influence, or public recognition. It arrived through conscience. As both a Universal Life Church minister and a nonreligious spiritual Heathen, I do not claim perfection, divine authority, or immunity from error. I claim only a responsibility to examine ideas honestly, acknowledge mistakes when they occur, and remain willing to learn from those mistakes. If my writing questions institutions, traditions, political movements, or religious establishments, then those same questions must first be directed inward. Accountability loses its value when it applies only to other people.

Some may accuse me of inconsistency. Others may question my qualifications, my beliefs, or the unconventional path that brought me here. Those criticisms deserve consideration. Every accusation contains an opportunity for self-examination, whether justified or not. If I expect churches, political leaders, public figures, and cultural institutions to confront their shortcomings, then I must hold myself to an even higher standard. The measure is not whether criticism exists. The measure is how one responds to it.

I am still growing into this role. I often take on more responsibilities than wisdom might recommend, partly because experience has taught me that meaningful work rarely completes itself. No one is coming to rescue me from difficult tasks, and no one else bears responsibility for the work assigned to my own hands. That reality can be exhausting, but it is also liberating. It removes excuses and places responsibility where it belongs.

What follows are not accusations aimed at others. They are questions directed first toward myself and then toward anyone willing to ask them honestly. The answers may be uncomfortable. That does not make them any less necessary.

Questions Worth Asking

If I criticize hypocrisy in a church, political movement, or institution, am I equally willing to confront hypocrisy within myself?

When I speak about accountability, do my actions support my words, or am I asking more of others than I demand of myself?

Am I seeking truth, or merely seeking evidence that confirms conclusions I reached long ago?

Have I mistaken certainty for wisdom, or am I willing to admit when I do not know enough to speak with authority?

Do I challenge institutions because they deserve scrutiny, or because it is easier than confronting my own shortcomings?

When criticism is directed at me, do I examine it carefully, or do I dismiss it simply because it is uncomfortable?

Am I building a ministry around service and integrity, or around the desire to be seen as someone who possesses them?

If those closest to me were asked to evaluate my character, would their testimony support the image I present publicly?

Do I spend more time condemning corruption in distant places than correcting failures within my own sphere of influence?

When future versions of myself look back on these words, will they find evidence of growth, or merely proof that I learned how to defend old mistakes?

As a final point, I am firm in this: I would rather die for justice than live on my knees, licking the boot as a well-treated slave.

Next Page