Where I've Been, Where I Am, Where I'm Going
Two years ago today, on Tuesday, September 5th, 2017, in the midst of an already incredibly difficult season of life, my boss, who I loved and trusted and respected, called me into his office and informed me that my time on staff at his church had come to an end and that the coming Friday would be my last day in his employ. Looking back, the writing had been on the walls for a couple weeks I suppose, maybe longer...but I liken it to the shock of losing a 105 year old grandparent: not exactly unexpected, but no less painful or surprising in the moment.
The reasons for my dismissal aren't irrelevant, but they are incredibly personal and painful to revisit, so I'll leave the details out. Suffice it to say, in my mind then and even more so today, I was fired from my job, which I loved more than any of the many jobs I'd worked up to that point in my life, unjustly and based on what I believe to be incredibly damaging conservative theology.
It stung, friends. It was a new, deep wound at a time when I was asking for a bandage to stop the bleeding of the wounds that already existed in my life.
A few months prior to that fateful Tuesday a longtime friend had offered me a position at his new little church plant, which I wanted desperately, but declined because of how much I loved the job I already had. So when I left my boss's office that day, with my eyes still swollen and wet with tears, he was my first call.
By the time I'd finished cleaning my office out three days later, he had already pulled all the logistical strings to hire me on. Even in my wounded, disqualified state, he still wanted me.
That Sunday, September 10th, I began work at Holy Family Church. I wept through the entire first service because I knew I'd arrived at a place where healing could happen. Real healing. A place where I could bring all my hurt, and all my doubt, and all my anger, and all my rawness, and be met by kindred souls.
As much and as immediately as I loved Holy Family, for months and months I mourned what I'd lost. I didn't miss the conservative theology or politics which had always been a struggle for me. I didn't really miss the day to day. I didn't miss the pleats or the chacos. I just missed the idea of what I'd lost.
But over the course of those mourning months something entirely unexpected happened for me at Holy Family: I fell in love with the liturgy. The consistent, repetitious, purposeful words that I got to recite each week with those fellow wounded, recovering and raw kindred souls.
Within 6 or so months I found that my grieving had been replaced with gratitude. And now, 2 years later, I still wake up every day more thankful than the day before for this community.
I love it.
I love it so much, in fact, that I want to quit my job.
In mid-2018 I set a goal to be working full time for myself by my 40th birthday in November of 2019, and volunteering for Holy Family. I love this community enough to want to give myself to it freely, (something I've dreamed of doing since leaving my first church job in late 2004).
For the last year and half I've worked incredibly hard to build Milieu Media Group into a sustainable company. I've produced hundreds of hours of audio across dozens of platforms. I've led workshops and hosted live events. I've imagined and developed new shows. I've pitched corporate clients, sought sponsors, sold ads and run several dozen social media accounts. I've networked and consulted and attended conferences. And I've done all of this on top of my full time job.
A couple of things have become clear to me though over the last few months:
First, I can't do this alone anymore. It's too much. The vision is too big for one person. I need help, and I'm actively seeking it out now in the form of new business partnerships.
Second, I still deeply desire to do this for a living, to sustain myself financially, for the first time in my life, from my own creative work. I love Holy Family in ever-increasing measure and am determined to get to a place where I can give myself freely to that healing, inclusive community.
That isn't going to happen before my 40th birthday unfortunately, and that's just a pill my Enneagram 3 self is going to have to swallow. I have so, so far to go. But I still choose to believe that it can happen at some point. So I'm moving the goal back a bit, but I'm not letting it go.
I want to create full time.
I want to tell stories that connect us to one another.
I want to amplify the voices of the marginalized.
I want to use the particular skills that I've acquired over the last 39 years as they relate to words and sounds and ideas to invite people into the very simple belief that storytelling can make the world better than it is.
And I want you to join me. I want you to care about this work. I want you to invest in it. With your heart and your mind and your time and your money. I want you to join me in believing that stories can, in fact, make the world better.
So this is your invitation. Join me. Listen to the shows. Become a patron, even if all you can invest is $1, or $5, or $10 a month. Attend an event. Subscribe to the mailing list. Share your story. One way or another, please, join me.
10 years ago today my wife and I moved to Houston. 2 years ago today I lost a job I loved for reasons I shouldn't have. 1 year from today, with your help, I hope to leave a job I love even more.
Thanks for reading, friends.
EDIT: For clarity's sake, while I'm still processing the wound of losing that job two years ago, and while I still wholeheartedly disagree with the reasons for my dismissal, I will only ever be thankful for my time in that place and with those people. The leaders there still have my respect in at least the same measure as they have my disagreement. I write this intending no disrespect to them or to those who remain a part of that community. This is simply part of my story.