My latest piece is about navigating the complexity of the moment. With Juneteenth this week, I explore how, in America’s 250th year, things are off.

A few years ago, a Juneteenth party in Alabama taught me something I keep coming back to: freedom is meant to be celebrated at a table, together, out loud.

But this year, the celebration comes with a real weightiness. We are grieving communal loss, and many of us have lost vision for our lives and our communities. So I want to give you hope in the midst of difficulty.

How do we experience and enjoy freedom in exile?

Jeremiah told the displaced people to build, to plant, and to seek the welfare of the city. That is the Juneteenth story. And it is ours.

My new piece for Our Daily Bread Voices is up, on how we celebrate and lament at the same time, and three practices for carrying the vision forward: Build. Plant. Gather.

I also made a soundtrack for it. Twenty songs of grief and joy, from Mahalia Jackson and “Wade in the Water” to Maverick City and Tye Tribbett. Read it, then put it on.

Link to the essay and the playlist below. We carry it together.

https://www.odbm.org/en/our-impact/vocies-blogs/celebrate-and-lament-a-juneteenth-vision-for-the-people-of-god

For the city.

This is Part 2 of the refreshed Building a Village series, originally published in two parts in late 2023. I’ve merged and updated both pieces here because the story they tell belongs together. If you haven’t read Part 1 yet, I’d encourage you to start there.

Subscribe now

During the fall of 2018, I had the opportunity to visit New York City for the first time. As a native of Birmingham, AL, I was enthralled with how massive and concrete the city was. Buildings everywhere. I know New York is known as the concrete jungle, but it was the first time I’d been to a city with so little greenery. Birmingham is known as Tree City, USA, and many people are shocked when they first visit to see how much of it we have, sitting in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. So imagine my surprise when the only greenery I saw was little planted trees outside of office buildings and apartment complexes.

While I was captivated by the abrupt change of scenery, the concrete buildings, swirling snow (It was swirling, y’all, I felt like the little orphan Annie the first time she visited Daddy Warbucks), and freezing temperatures were not why I visited. I was there to receive training at the Red Hook Community Justice Center, part of The Center for Justice Innovation. The training focused on restorative peacemaking rooted in Native American practices. At the time, I worked for the City of Birmingham Mayor’s Office, and we were looking to expand the use of deferrals and restorative practices in our municipal justice system. The program brought together disputants, family members, and community members to discuss how a disruptive event affected each person. The purpose was not only to resolve the immediate dispute but to heal the relationships involved and restore balance to the community.

THE WORK THAT SHAPED ME

To understand why I ended up in Brooklyn that fall, you have to understand what the previous four years had been. In February 2014, President Obama launched My Brother’s Keeper (MBK), an initiative that connected cities, nonprofits, education systems, businesses, and philanthropists to improve outcomes for boys and young men of color. Birmingham became the second city in the nation to sign on to the MBK Community Challenge, and for the next five years, I reoriented much of my work around helping our city build systems and strategies to meet its goals.

I spent countless days and nights reading everything I could to better understand the scope of our city's challenges. I met with leaders from the grassroots to the “grasstops.” I worked alongside consultants from Bloomberg Associates, community leaders, and business leaders to develop a holistic strategy for funding and policy change. Spurred by the pursuit of a better, more opportunity-rich Birmingham, I devoted my energy to the work of system transformation.

Unfortunately, by 2018, I had grown disillusioned. The local MBK program had died a political death. While much activity went into the initiative, little substantive policy or funding followed. President Obama was no longer in office, and the mayor who launched the cause locally lost a hotly contested election in 2017. The program had already begun to lose its potency before then due to unclear leadership, an ongoing political campaign, and uncertainty over funding. I had invested years of my life into this work, and I was beginning to question whether the change I wanted to see could actually be accomplished through government.

In 2018, I applied to the American Express Leadership Academy Points of Light Cohort and was accepted as one of 25 national up-and-coming civic and nonprofit leaders. The experience was enriching but still incomplete. So later that year, I found myself in Brooklyn learning about peacemaking, being recruited to join a different city department, and quietly wrestling with a growing conviction: that it was time to take my passion from city government to building organizations and institutions at the local community level.

BUILDING SOMETHING NEW

Out of my disillusionment grew a desire to create systems and institutions that worked for all and not just some. This led me to join the launch team of a charter school opening in a community where I had invested significant time and energy.

Being a founding member of that team re-energized me. We set up shop in a small, open office and went to work creating a space for students to explore their curiosity about the world. A place of belonging and innovation. I loved every exhausting moment of it. We aimed to open Alabama’s largest charter school, serving 420 students from Kindergarten through 5th grade. We planned and debated how to create a culture filled with high expectations, love and support, and family engagement. It was all heady stuff. But it didn’t just stay in the head. It forced us to engage our hearts and hands as we set about this transformative work.

I led the team responsible for recruiting students and their families to take a chance on an unknown entity with high hopes. We knew that if we were going to succeed in enrolling 420 students, we would need to recruit three times that many to account for inevitable attrition.

THERE ARE NO CHILDREN HERE

One evening, I was attending a community event, sharing the school's vision and my philosophy on family engagement and education. I was going through my usual spiel when I was challenged by a longstanding community champion. Her name was Ms. King.

I was in the middle of saying, “I believe that every parent wants what’s best for their child…” She stood up and asked, “Why do you believe that?” I began to tell her my thoughts on a parent’s love for their child, and how parents, even if they don’t know how to offer what’s best, still desire what’s best for their children.

I waxed eloquently.

She saw right through it.

A long conversation ensued. What can I say? I was still preoccupied with my vision of what it took to transform communities. But as our conversation went on, I began to listen to what she had to say, and by the end of the night, I was more aware than ever of just how much I had to learn. She told me that if I was serious, I should read the book There Are No Children Here by Alex Kotlowitz. Her exact words were: “I’ll see how serious you are if you read the book. Come talk to me once you do. I’m not hard to find.”

When I finally got back home that night, exhausted after being challenged to think deeper about the complexities of transforming and engaging communities, I sat down on my couch, took out my phone, and ordered the book.

A few days later, I found myself immersed in the lives of the Rivers family as they navigated life in the Henry Horner Homes in Chicago, IL. I tore through the book, making notes and asking questions about the people it described. I pondered the plight of its main characters and sought meaning amid such abject poverty. I looked at this book, published only four years after my birth, and wondered how it was still possible that we were struggling with so many of the same challenges. And I felt that old, familiar feeling of grief, despair, and hopelessness begin to creep in.

These were not unfamiliar themes. In my previous studies and experience, I had wrestled with poverty, drug abuse, violence, and the hopelessness that is all too common in settings like those in the book. I had led a church plant in the middle of Birmingham’s most impoverished and largest housing community. But something felt different this time. Maybe it was the conversation with Ms. King. Maybe it was the daily work I was doing on the ground. Whatever it was, I needed someone to help me navigate what I was feeling.

A couple of weeks later, I looked for Ms. King and found her at the Harris Homes Community Center, a public housing community where I once ran a mentoring program. She smiled when I walked in and asked how I’d been. I told her I was good, but I needed serious help. She stared at me briefly with a sly smile and finally asked, “Did you get that book?” Relieved that she asked, I told her I had and that it brought up so many questions.

I shared how, while reading the book, I couldn’t help but judge the people and situations they faced. I shared my thoughts on the Rivers family and their struggles, and how I was tempted to condemn Lajoe, the mother, for her choices and for having so many children. Something that we are, either consciously or subconsciously, conditioned to do because of how our society treats women of color. I assumed, as many would, that she was unmarried. I was wrong. Lajoe was married to a man she loved, the father of all her children, but he struggled with addiction. I expressed to Ms. King my shame at the judgments that rose up in me as I read.

As we spoke, she shared her own life story with me. She spoke about being a single mom and raising three boys. She told me how she went back to college to obtain her teaching degree, and how she labored to give her sons the opportunities so many around her couldn’t afford. She became a mentor to me. When she saw my sincerity and my seriousness, she committed herself to being a champion on my behalf. We would sit and talk for hours at the community center or at community events.

She would acknowledge that my thoughts about the work weren’t wrong, but she had seen many young and eager individuals come and speak about things they didn’t fully understand. This was her way of testing me. She told me she had issued the same challenge and invitation to others, and that I was the first to take her up on it.

Join my Patreon

WHAT MS. KING TAUGHT ME ABOUT BUILDING VILLAGES

I think about Ms. King often. She is one of the unsung village builders I have had the privilege of learning from. She didn’t have a title. She wasn’t on anyone’s organizational chart. But she had something that no program or policy could manufacture: presence, proximity, and the hard-won wisdom that only comes from staying.

What she modeled for me was something I had talked about but hadn’t yet fully lived. In Part 1, I wrote about the importance of starting with God and allowing that transformation to work its way out in you before you try to work it out in the world. Ms. King was living proof of that principle. She wasn’t trying to transform the community from a distance. She was in it. She was of it. And because of that, she had the kind of credibility and trust that no resume could earn.

That season taught me three things I carry into every room I walk into now:

Proximity is not optional. You cannot build a village you are not willing to live in. The most important thing you can do before you develop a strategy is show up and stay long enough to be known.

Posture matters more than expertise. I walked into that room in Woodlawn with answers. Ms. King taught me to come with questions. Humility is not weakness; it is the prerequisite for learning.

The gatekeepers can be teachers. Every community has people like Ms. King: those who have seen people come and go, who are watching to see if you’re serious. Don’t be offended by the test. Pass it.

These lessons didn’t just shape me personally. They became foundational to the work of Forged: Birmingham Leadership Foundation, where we believe that developing whole leaders requires the kind of formation that happens in community, not just in classrooms. The village we are trying to build together has to be rooted in the same soil we are asking others to tend.

In Part 3, we will move further into the framework and discuss what it looks like to engage the community in a way that is sustainable, rooted, and real.

I’d love to hear from you. Who has been your Ms. King? The person who slowed you down long enough to teach you something you didn’t know you needed to learn? Leave a comment below or reach me at dannyb@actjustlylovemercy.org.

I originally wrote this series in 2023, and I’ve carried it with me in different ways ever since. The questions it raises have only grown louder. So, I’ve updated and refreshed each post because I believe the village—the work of building it, sustaining it, and belonging to it—is one of the most urgent conversations of our time. I hope it meets you where you are. If my writing has been encouraging to you, then I’d love for you to join me as a patron!

Join my Patreon

We are living in one of the loneliest moments in modern history. In 2023, former Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy declared loneliness a public health crisis. Studies show that Americans have fewer close friendships than any previous generation on record. And yet, there is a growing and urgent conversation—particularly in Black communities—about the need to rebuild our institutions, strengthen our neighborhoods, and recover what it means to be a people who belong to one another.

These two realities are not unrelated. We are lonely, and we are longing. Longing for belonging. Longing for villages.

A friend of mine recently asked me a question that gets at the heart of this tension: “How do we build the village?” That question sits at the center of a much larger conversation about equipping and developing leaders who are rooted in the historic Christian faith and prepared to lead with courage, love, ingenuity, justice, righteousness, character, and truth in the 21st century. People who are formed to carry out the Great Commission (Matthew 28:18-20), the Great Commandment (Matthew 22:37-39), and the Great Responsibility (Micah 6:8). It is not an easy question. But since I have committed so much of my life, time, and study to answering it, I want to share my thoughts.

Villages are made up of people in specific places, at a specific time. The people in a village usually have an agreed-upon set of norms that lead to the flourishing and sustainability of its people. When the social contract in any village breaks down, it usually leads to selfishness, self-centeredness, and injustice—its sin is not just personal but societal. In our culture, the village we often speak of is the African-American community; many Black people see themselves as a village unto themselves. While there are broader villages, this is the one often referred to in Black spaces. If you have read my blog, you know I intentionally write from my Christian-African-American perspective. I do this because that’s who I am, and I want to be authentic to my voice and experience—but the concepts I will share in this series are for everyone.

Share

GOD & OUR ROLE IN THE VILLAGE

A few years ago, I started teaching a group of my students the following framework for self and community transformation. During this time, I mainly taught Black men who were ordered by the justice system to take fatherhood or rehabilitation classes as part of an incarceration deferment program. I loved the time I spent with those men. I watched many of them begin to flourish after months of consistency. But while our curriculum was high-quality, it often failed to reach the core of their hearts in a way that would bring about transformation.

So I developed this framework as a tool to disciple these men. Over the years, I have continued to refine it through my work at Forged: Birmingham Leadership Foundation, where we provide accessible, gospel-centered leadership formation for leaders in our city. What started as a classroom tool has become a framework for how we think about developing whole leaders—people whose inner and outer lives are aligned.

Transformation starts with God entering the individual’s life. An eternal God, through the power of the Spirit and the proclamation of the gospel, comes and makes you new. From there, you come to know the eternal God who has made Himself known to you through His Son Jesus. As you learn who God is and what He has done, you come to understand better who you are and what He is calling you to do. Usually, what happens after that—depending on the context you live in—is you want to make an impact and share all that you’ve received. Instead of jumping ahead to community and society, you have to take a deep look at yourself and your closest relationships, namely your family and friends.

But before we get there, it’s important to understand that you are an essential member of any village. If you don’t come to know that you are created in the image of God and loved deeply (John 3:16-17), then you will never fully comprehend just how much you have to contribute. You also may make the mistake of thinking that your worth comes from what you do and not who you are. That’s why we don’t start with us. We start—or restart—with God.

On your journey of being developed into a leader, you may have picked up valuable skills and tools along the way, but you also may be carrying useless weight. What I mean is we’ve all been hurt, and we’ve all hurt others. Things like unforgiveness, offense, and bitterness can isolate us and hinder our willingness to engage in village building. It can keep us locked in a cycle of self-defeating behavior, several fits of stopping and starting again, and being trapped by sin and sinful habits.

Join my Patreon

People often limit themselves and their growth because they don’t spend enough time with themselves and don’t think about how to build a village in their own homes or with those who know them best. When I say take a deep look, I mean reflecting on how the gospel that saved you is working itself out in you and around you. Often, the people we hurt first and most are those closest to us. If we are to build villages and places of safety, courage, and transformation in society, we must learn to repair and rebuild our homes and families.

How do you live out the fruit of love, kindness, and gentleness? Do you care about justice? Great! Do you long for a righteous society? Fantastic! How do those two ethics play out in your home and most intimate relationships? Justice and righteousness begin with God and must manifest next in the believer’s life. Taking time to nourish your soul and care for and lead those around you first is a model for longevity.

Subscribe now

A NOTE ON SCAZZERO

I opened this piece with a quote from Pete Scazzero’s The Emotionally Healthy Leader, and I want to sit with it a moment longer because it calls us deeper. Scazzero’s central argument is that the depth of your inner life with God determines the health of your outer life in leadership. You cannot sustainably give what you do not possess.

I first encountered this framework 12 years ago, and it has shaped how I think about discipleship and leadership development ever since. I am currently going deeper into this work as a table leader in the School of Emotionally Healthy Leadership, and what I can tell you is that the longer I sit with these ideas, the more convinced I am that this is the starting point for anyone serious about building lives, families, disciples, and institutions that last. We need to recapture a contemplative historic Christianity that goes deeper than our modern and post-modern renderings.

Village building is soul work before it is strategy work. You cannot organize your way into transformation. You cannot program your way into belonging. At some point, you have to reckon with what is happening inside of you, what you carry, what you’ve buried, what God is still trying to heal. You must slow down to be with God, as He invites you to follow Him! The village you want to build on the outside will only be as strong as the work you’ve allowed God to do on the inside.

Share

PAUSE & REFLECT

In 1 Timothy 3, Paul tells his son in the faith, Timothy, the process of becoming a strong and godly leader. Throughout the years, I’ve regularly returned to 1 and 2 Timothy to help develop those who say they want to be leaders or feel called to do something significant for God. Paul notes that while your desire to lead is good, it takes more than aspiration and gifting to lead well.

1 This saying is trustworthy: “If anyone aspires to be an overseer, he desires a noble work.”

2 An overseer, therefore, must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, self-controlled, sensible, respectable, hospitable, an able teacher,

3 not addicted to wine, not a bully but gentle, not quarrelsome, not greedy—

4 one who manages his own household competently, having his children under control with all dignity.

5 (If anyone does not know how to manage his own household, how will he take care of God’s church?)

6 He must not be a new convert, or he might become conceited and fall into the condemnation of the Devil.

7 Furthermore, he must have a good reputation among outsiders, so that he does not fall into disgrace and the Devil’s trap.

1 Timothy 3:1-7, Christian Standard Bible

My framework follows the biblical teaching to prepare yourself and your home before stepping into greater community or societal leadership. Why start here? I think Paul sums it up well: “He must not be a new convert, or he might become conceited and fall into the condemnation of the Devil… He must have a good reputation among outsiders, so that he does not fall into disgrace and the Devil’s trap.”

Three things:

First, spiritual warfare is real, and satan will exploit any unhealed or unhealthy areas in our lives. We need time to allow the salvation and sanctification we talk about to be worked out in us.

Second, pride will take you out of the game. “Pride goes before destruction,
and a haughty spirit before a fall” (Proverbs 16:18, ESV). Too much, too quick, can ruin you. Sometimes, you get elevated or promoted into leadership because you are gifted, but your character doesn’t match your gifting. This can be dangerous not only for those you lead but for you. For all the glories of leadership, it can be overwhelming. Don’t allow your pride or other people to exalt you before it’s time. You will never be fully ready, but you can be wholly unprepared.

Third, it takes time to build up a good reputation. There should be something different about you as a Christian leader. Your friends, family, and those around you should first experience the fruit of your changed life. They should attest to this transformation that has taken root in you, whether they believe what you believe or not. If you champion gifting over godliness, you will ruin yourself and others.

6 But godliness with contentment is a great gain.

7 For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out.

8 But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with these.

9 But those who want to be rich fall into temptation, a trap, and many foolish and harmful desires, which plunge people into ruin and destruction.

10 For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and by craving it, some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains.

1 Timothy 6:6-10, Christian Standard Bible

You have to check your motives. This is the work of the Holy Spirit, and it is a slow work. It means taking time to let God search and purify you. It means taking time, as the old folks in the church used to say, “to still away with God.” Taking time to learn to love Jesus, His people, His church, His word, and Him, and taking time to get to know yourself. To better understand who you are and who He has made you to be.

How long will these first couple of stages take? As long as they must take. There is no set timeline. For some, it takes a long time; for others, it’s much shorter. I cannot tell you how long the road may be, but I can tell you what it looks like to start building the villages we long for—the places of peace and presence.

It’s also important to note that this is a continuum. We never move beyond this, but we do reach a point where we are ready to enter the next stages of leadership and engagement. In Part 2, we’ll discuss how to engage the community as we build a village.

For now, take a little time and reflect on the quote from Pete Scazzero with which we opened this piece. I’d love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment below or reach me at dannyb@actjustlylovemercy.org.

Patreon

Abraham blesses Isaac. Isaac blesses Jacob. Jacob blesses his sons and Joseph's sons. The patriarchs understood something we have largely forgotten, that a blessing is not primarily a financial transaction. It’s a declaration of identity. It is a father looking at his child and saying, " You are seen, you are known, and you have everything you need to become who God made you to be.”

I’ve heard it said that what our children lack most today is not provision. It’s the blessing of their fathers.

Subscribe now

We have confused blessing with giving. We think we bless our children when we leave them an inheritance, buy them things, or provide them with opportunities. And while none of those things are wrong, they miss the deeper gift. Blessing is about identity. It is about purpose. It is about a father speaking life over a child so clearly and so consistently that the child never has to wonder who they are.

Consider what we call the Great Commission. We have long read it as a mission statement and a charge, a sending, a to-do list for the church. But read it again slowly:

¹⁸ Jesus came near and said to them, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth. ¹⁹ Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, ²⁰ teaching them to observe everything I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:18-20

This is not primarily a commission. This is a blessing. Jesus takes what is his and shares it with us. This passage of scripture wasn’t referred to as The Great Commission until the 17th Century and wasn’t popularized by that phrase until the 19th Century. Jesus is not simply telling his disciples what to do; he is telling them who they are and whose they are. He is speaking identity over them before he sends them out. You are not striving toward something. You are living out of something. The authority is already given. The presence is already promised. Go and be who you already are.

Share

This is the posture of a father who blesses instead of curses.

The prophet Malachi understood this and the importance of blessing when he wrote:

“He will turn the hearts of fathers to their children and the hearts of children to their fathers. Otherwise, I will come and strike the land with a curse.”

The opposite of blessing is not neutrality. It is a curse. An absent blessing doesn’t just leave a child empty; it leaves a wound. And that wound festers. It spreads through generations, through communities, through cities. The fatherlessness crisis in our culture is not just a social problem. It is a spiritual one. And it will not be solved by programs alone. It will be solved by fathers who turn their hearts back toward their children and speak blessing over them.

Consider this teaching from Jesus about the heart of our Heavenly Father:

⁷ “Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you. ⁸ For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. ⁹ Who among you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? ¹⁰ Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? ¹¹ If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him. (Matthew 7:7-11, CSB)

Jesus is teaching us to seek the heart of the Father and to be persistent in prayer, because the Father cares deeply for us. In this lesson, he points to the hearts of earthly fathers, though evil (compared to the Heavenly Father), we meet the needs of our children. He asks, “Who among you, if his son asks him for bread, will give him a stone? ¹⁰ Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake?” Unfortunately, far too many fathers have given their children stones and snakes—things that have only weighed them down and poisoned them.

What does that blessing look like in practice? It doesn’t just happen in grand gestures or formal ceremonies. Sometimes it looks like this, from the poet John O’Donohue:

A climate of kindness. A sheltering tree. A gaze from a father’s eyes is like a kiss alighting on skin.

That is the blessing. Quiet, consistent, present. Not performed for an audience but lived out daily in the ordinary moments of a shared life.

May the God who turns hearts turn ours — back to our children, back to those we lead, back to the sacred work of blessing the ones in our care.

Next time, we look at the one whose blessing changes everything.

I loved the fictional television character Randall Pearson from This Is Us! The show depicted a Black man who was a caring son, a committed husband, a present father, and a successful leader. He made breakfast in the mornings, attended plays and recitals, and provided his family with a beautiful and stable life.

He also lacks identity and struggles to find his footing. Adopted by a white family, who, in their grief after having triplets, as one of them dies shortly after birth, decided to take home this abandoned black boy. Randall, from boyhood, is complex: highly intelligent and deeply curious. He struggles with bouts of crippling anxiety when the pressure of living up to his own expectations becomes too much.

He grows up, existing in the middle-class suburban life of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, going to affluent, mostly white private schools so that his genius is properly nurtured—unfortunately, to the detriment of his racial identity. But through it all, he is both loved and learning to love.

What I admire about the depiction of Randall is his intricacy and presence. He isn’t perfect, but faithfully shows up in each area of his life (husband, son, father, friend, brother, employee, leader), sometimes even at the cost of his own sanity and mental health. Many men, especially men of color, can identify with Randall.

I find that most of our culture, and the systems and institutions that support it, are ill-equipped to serve the Randalls among us. The men of color who are not destitute nor down and out, but still struggling to find a place that appreciates and understands their complexity. A place that invites them to show up as their full selves. To bring the nuance of their lives and experiences as they traverse the treacherous paths of American life.

Subscribe now

I had breakfast with a friend the other day, and this very conversation came up! He shared that he feels we live in a space where, to receive adequate attention, you have to be either a troublemaker or a rainmaker. But what about the gifted millennial or Gen-Z man of color who is seeking to build a life and be faithfully present?

Where do they go?

Especially for the Christian man of color who struggles to find a place to learn, grow, be served, and serve. The man who wants to be challenged, loved, and invited in! Where does he go to learn about manhood, leadership, and presence? Where does he go to become whole?

Last year, I was asked to record a lesson for a curriculum for a Christian young adult fellowship. This fellowship guides young adults ages 18 to 24 on a 9-month journey of service and learning, including studying the lives of biblical figures and working in community. The curriculum design team had the creative idea of asking leaders like me to record a video discussing a specific biblical figure and tying it to a fictional character from a movie or show, and to clip specific scenes into our talk that drove that point and connection home.

The person I was asked to design my video around was the leader, Nehemiah. Nehemiah is a biblical/historical figure who serves in the Persian government but is allowed to return to his homeland, Jerusalem, as governor to rebuild the city. I’ve always been fascinated by Nehemiah and His leadership. So much so that I even wrote a short five-day devotional, Building From the Heart: Lessons in Godly Leadership to For Rebuilding What’s Broken (you can download it here on my website), to help leaders think through how God is calling them to engage in the rebuilding and beautification of their cities.

When I thought about how I wanted to convey the story of Nehemiah, with all his passion for righteousness, justice, and restoration, I thought about Randall. I considered how Randall was a man who loved deeply! In his love for his biological father, he comes to love the community that his father spent most of his life in. I used the following clip as one example of Randall advocating on behalf of the people he loves and is growing to know.

Unfortunately, if you watched the scene above, things don’t go as smoothly for Randal and the Councilman’s relationship as this conversation does. This launches Randall into a pursuit of justice and rightness—to set in order what has long been neglected, just as Nehemiah did.

Maybe you are Randall.

Complex, capable, and showing up: in your home, your workplace, your community, your church. You are making breakfast, attending the meetings, and carrying the weight of leadership with both hands. But somewhere underneath all of that faithfulness, you are wondering if anyone actually sees you. Not the version of you that performs well under pressure, but the full you—the one still searching, still becoming, still trying to figure out what it means to be a man, a leader, a father, a son.

I see you. And more importantly, God does too.

What moves me about Nehemiah is that before he laid a single stone or rallied a single worker, he went out alone at night to survey the broken walls of Jerusalem. He looked at what others had learned to live with. He sat with the weight of it. He didn’t rush past the brokenness; he let it break his heart first. That’s what made him a builder worth following.

The world needs more men like that. Men who are willing to look honestly at what’s broken in their cities, in their families, in themselves; and instead of walking away, say, “Come, let us rebuild.”

That is the posture of a present father. That is the posture of a faithful leader. Not perfection. Not having it all together. But showing up fully, honestly, consistently, even when the walls are still down.

Wholistic success isn’t about mastering every domain of your life. It’s about refusing to compartmentalize your humanity. The man you are at home is the same man you are at work. Your daughter or son sees a father who is both strong and tender. The people you lead see a man who advocates fiercely because he loves deeply. Randall showed us that it was possible. Nehemiah showed us it was ancient.

And somewhere inside of you, you already know it’s yours to reach for. You’ve been reaching for it all along.

So here’s my question for you: what are you waiting for?

That’s exactly why I’m partnering with MADE for PAX to facilitate the MEN in Leadership fellowship, a space for BIPOC men who are ready to do the deep work of becoming—a table where you can bring your full self and leave more whole than when you came.

This cohort is for the man who is already leading, or knows he’s called to, but is tired of doing it exhausted, isolated, and spiritually depleted. We’re going to work from the inside out. You’ll discover your leadership posture—whether you’re a Builder, a Reformer, or an Expander—and develop the inner life, relational skills, and sustainable rhythms to lead with wholeness and longevity, because the world doesn’t just need more leaders. It needs leaders who last.

This is for the Randalls and Nehemiahs among us.

If that’s you, there’s a seat at the table with your name on it.

LEARN MORE HERE!

Nehemiah didn’t rebuild Jerusalem alone. You weren’t meant to build your life in isolation either. Come, let us rebuild. Together.

A Look Ahead

But Randall is fictional, and Nehemiah is historical. Next time, we look at someone who is both fully human and fully the answer, and whose life gives us the clearest picture yet of what it means to be present, whole, and free.

I wanted to share this sermon I preached last summer after the United States and Israel bombed the Iranian nuclear facility. I think this message is still timely for the bombings that took place today and the uncertainty that is sure to follow.

To The Present Ones:

The other morning, as I was driving a familiar route to the gym, I saw a father standing at the bus stop with his daughter. It was a frigid morning, and as I passed by, I noticed this young girl and her father looked miserable, and my thought was how sweet it was that they were miserable together.

Being Miserable Together

There is an old saying, if you know it, say it with me: “misery loves company.” It’s meant to reflect how unprocessed grief and pain drag others into the mire alongside the pitiful. It often accompanies the turn of phrase “hurt people hurt people,” implying that the miserable tend to inflict misery on those they encounter and on those with whom they are in the closest relationships.

As I contemplated the father and daughter at the bus stop, I wove a story in my mind. That story was about a father gently waking his daughter on a cold morning to a hot breakfast and a hearty hug. As she prepared to go outside, he reminded her to put on her big coat, because it’s too cold to be standing outside without one. As she steps outside, she looks up at her father and says, “Will you stand out here with me?” To which the father wishes to say no, but, out of love, says yes because she asked.

While they stand there, breathing frost with every exhale, bouncing from side to side to generate warmth. They shiver and wait, miserably, in silence, with a steady assurance and a protective presence.

Subscribe now

This is the story I made up on my way to the gym that morning after seeing them there.

A love story.

A story where a Black father willingly steps into misery to be with the daughter he loves. He’s present in both the warmth of the home and the frigidity of the world.

Unfortunately, when people think of the Black father, that’s not the story they tend to imagine. They imagine a selfish man who abandons his family for no other reason than his inability to stay faithful, often viewed as lazy, noncommittal, and absent, unwilling to enter the daily joys and pains of life.

That narrative has warped our imagination and exhausted us, leaving too many bearing an undue burden. While the American family does have an epidemic of fatherlessness, too many good men are lumped in with those who are absent.

The story of the man and his daughter is the story I imagined, because it’s the story I’ve experienced and seen. I dream in color because I’ve seen the rich experiences of others. I see men of every background every day providing a loving and gentle presence as fathers, mentors, brothers, and leaders.

They read bedtime stories, brush little teeth, untangle thick hair, and twist it into bouncy plaits (Black women are going to read this and say you braid plaits, not twist them, but we girl dads do things a little differently).

I dream of the man who wakes up early in the morning, serving as an alarm clock and a short-order cook, ensuring that everyone is bathed and well-fed. Some men wait in the cold, while others warm up the car as they sing Disney songs or worship music on the way to school, offering wisdom on navigating the complexities of childhood or adolescence. This is presence. This is what it means to show up.

I know many men like this, regardless of their relationship status, their title, or their season of life, who show up daily. Not every family looks the same, and just because a family doesn’t fit our expectations doesn’t mean it’s broken. It’s just different.

So here’s to the men who do traditional and the ones who do different. Here’s to the fathers who keep the weekly lunch date with their daughters. To the men who clean cuts and bandage boo-boos. To the ones who read books, make breakfast, drop off at school, create meaningful experiences, and those who endure misery together.

Because the man at the bus stop isn’t just a father; he’s a leader, paving the way for his children, laying a foundation for their lives to be built upon, and instilling identity and a deep sense of worth and value. And the world needs him to know that.

But being present in misery and merriment like that doesn’t just happen. It’s cultivated. It’s chosen, over and over again, in the cold and in the warmth, in the easy seasons and the ones that seem to cost you everything. And if we’re going to see a new generation of men who show up that way, as fathers, as leaders, as brothers, as sons—we need models. We need a picture of what this actually looks like when it’s fully lived out, and we need the encouragement of each other to endure.

So over the next few weeks, that’s exactly what we’re going to explore. Because the story of the present, holistic man isn’t new, it’s ancient. And the men who’ve walked this road before us have left us everything we need to follow.

To the men who are present in all of life, and to those who desire to be!

Your brother in the fight,

Danny Brister, Jr.

As I sit down to write this, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. 2025 was the year a dream became a reality!

I recall a conversation that my wife and I had back in 2013 before we were married! She asked me what I felt God placed on my heart to do long-term. I described to her a vision of what I then called a Discipleship and Ministry Equipping Center. I was 24 years old and wasn’t sure what this would look like, but I had a vision of people being trained, equipped, and sent out to serve others. In 2025, we launched Forged: Birmingham Leadership Foundation!

I want to take a moment to look back at what God has done, thank those of you who made it possible, and share where we’re headed.

The Heart of Forged

Forged is an organization for leadership and discipleship formation. We’re not only training leaders to be more productive, but we are committed to seeing leaders deeply formed and disciples made who love Christ, His Church, and the City.

In a city like Birmingham, rich with history, talent, and potential, we believe the greatest need is not more programs but more deeply formed leaders. Leaders who are spiritually rooted, emotionally healthy, and oriented toward justice and mercy. That’s why Forge exists.

2025 Highlights

Bridges & Beacons: Our Inaugural Cohort

The heartbeat of Forged in 2025 was our inaugural Bridges & Beacons Emerging Leaders Cohort. In June, we welcomed African American male leaders ages 26 to 37 into a transformational six-month journey rooted in the theme “The Character of Leadership” from Acts 11:22–26. These men studied Crawford Loritts’ Leadership as an Identity, walked through our transformational leadership curriculum, and did the deep inner work that most leadership programs skip over. We met weekly on Wednesday nights, broke bread together, and built a brotherhood grounded in the gospel.

The results speak for themselves:

• 80% of these leaders had never participated in a leadership development initiative before

• 100% reported transformational growth across life, leadership, love, and labor

• 86% experienced major breakthroughs in biblical decision-making and servant leadership

• 71% gained a much clearer understanding of God’s calling God on their lives

• 100% said they would actively recommend the program to others

On November 12, 2025, we celebrated our first-ever graduation at Workshops Empowerment Inc. One graduate shared: “It helped me with the things I was battling in silence, but once Wednesday came, I knew I could release it without being judged and set free.” That’s the type of space we create at Forged: leadership formation from the inside out.

Gospel Manhood Groups

Alongside Bridges & Beacons, our Gospel Manhood Groups continued to grow in partnership with Harvest Community Church. These groups are spaces where men can be real, be challenged, and be reminded that they are not alone in their leadership journey. So far, we have studied through 1 and 2 Timothy, Titus, and Ephesians. This year, we’re taking a dive into Daniel and Nehemiah.

Personal Growth & Development

I can’t develop leaders without intentionally developing myself. In 2025, I became a certified Emotionally Healthy Discipleship Practitioner—a framework now woven into everything we do at Forged. I was selected as a 2025–2026 PAX Fellow focused on writing for social change, which helped me see my writing as an extension of my calling: worship, witness, service, and prophetic declaration. I also had the honor of serving as Interim Pastor at Grace Church Birmingham, deepening my love for the local church and its role in community transformation.

Writing & Publishing

2025 was a milestone year for my writing. I was published in The Hopeful Neighborhood Project and United? We Pray!—two publications that align deeply with the work we’re doing. I’m on a mission to write and publish a book by 2029, and I’ll be writing several more publications this year. Follow my writing journey on my Substack, Act Justly Love Mercy.

What’s Ahead

We’re just getting started.

Manhood Groups

We just launched our Spring/Winter semester: Faithful in Exile: Standing Firm in a Hostile Culture. If your church or organization is interested in deepening your men’s discipleship, reach out to me at dbrister@forgedbhm.org.

Charity to Change Initiative

Forged has received a grant through Leadership Foundations, funded by the Lilly Endowment, to launch the Charity to Change Initiative in Birmingham. This 9-month journey beginning in September 2026 will bring together a cohort of Birmingham church leaders to reimagine how congregations can move from fragmented charitable efforts to collaborative, systemic action. Through online learning with world-class theologians, one-on-one and group coaching, and collective action plans, we’ll be equipping Birmingham churches to become a force for long-term change in our city.

Men In Leadership Fellowship

I’m excited to announce that I am partnering with MADE for PAX to launch a Men in Leadership Fellowship for 2026-2027. This fellowship is designed for Christian BIPOC (Black, Indigenous, and People of Color) men ages 25-45 who are serving in leadership roles or aspiring to leadership. The best part? This fellowship is national — so if you know someone who fits that description, please share the link!

CCDA Executive Leadership Peer Coaching

I’m partneringI’mth the Christian Community Development Association (CCDA) as a Peer Coaching Facilitator for their 2026 Executive Leadership Peer Coaching Circles. If you are a Senior Pastor, CEO, Executive Director, or other executive leader and want a community of like-minded leaders to process life and leadership with, there is still time to join!

Thank You

None of this would have been possible without you.

To our supporting churches—Faith Chapel, Harvest Community Church, Mosaic Birmingham, Shades Mountain Baptist Church, and Church at Brook Hills—your generosity helped us launch. Every dollar planted in Forged has borne fruit in the lives of men and women who are now leading differently in their homes, churches, and communities.

To our individual donors and prayer partners—you sustained us. Your prayers and generosity carried us through.

To the Bridges & Beacons graduates—you took a risk. You showed up every Wednesday, did the hard work, and let God transform you. I am so proud of each of you.

To my family—thank you for your sacrifice, patience, and belief in this calling.

Partner With Us

If this stirs something in you, here are three ways to be a part of what God is doing:

1. Give. We just launched THE FORGE, our campaign to raise $100,000 this year. Your financial gift directly funds leadership and discipleship formation for emerging leaders in Birmingham. Forged: Birmingham Leadership Foundation is a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt organization (EIN: 33-3820656), and all donations are tax-deductible.

2. Pray. Pray for my family and me, our Gospel Manhood Group, our 2026 Bridges & Beacons cohort, the Charity to Change initiative, and the leaders we’re developing across Birmingham.

3. Share. Subscribe to Act Justly Love Mercy if you haven’t already. Share this with someone who needs to hear it.

JOIN THE FORGE!

The prophet Micah asked, “What does the Lord require of you?” The answer has been the compass for my life and for Forged: act justly, love mercy, walk humbly.

2025 was the year we said yes. 2026 is the year we continue to deepen our roots and strengthen our foundation. And we want you with us.

With deep gratitude,

Danny Brister, Jr.

President & Founder, Forged: Birmingham Leadership Foundation

Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly.

If this resonated with you, share it with someone who needs to hear it. And if you’re not already subscribed to Act Justly Love Mercy, hit that subscribe button — there’s more there in 2026.

Thanks for reading Act Justly Love Mercy! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.

This morning, I woke up reflecting on the early days of my marriage.

There are a lot of people around me right now who are jumping the broom. It is a beautiful thing to see young love take root and blossom. To see men and women commit to one another in the presence of God and those who love them and care for them!

When we first got married, I had just been promoted while working part-time at the City of Birmingham Mayor’s Office and serving as a youth pastor. We were so young and full of life, excited about all the possibilities of what could be and all the places we’d go! From the moment we were married, we were serving. I was living in a discipleship house in Fairfield, AL, with a group of guys who were passionate about Jesus and seeing the city restored.

Fairfield was a hard but beautiful place! We found love, community, and purpose there.

Fairfield is a historic city that has fallen on hard times over the last 20 to 30 years. Once a booming city that housed the headquarters of U.S. Steel and the Birmingham Southern Railroad, and was home to the Tennessee Coal, Iron & Railroad Company, a thriving rehabilitation hospital (Lloyd Noland Hospital), and the Historically Black College Miles College.

It is also the home of Grace House Ministries. Started in 1992 by Lois Coleman, affectionately known as Mama Lois, Grace House is a place of restoration, safety, and stability for girls in the foster care system. I first encountered this ministry through our friends Tim and Ericka Frye. I met Tim in 2010 at a multi-ministry space called the Advocate Center. We were there for a series of gatherings called Alabama Awaking. That was the height of the racial reconciliation and revival movement that swept across America in the mid-90s, driven by mass gatherings like Promise Keepers and The Call.

As one of a few Black people at the gathering, Tim and I hit it off pretty quickly. We were both nursing fledgling rap careers at the time. We had a deep love for Jesus and, to use the term popular back then in Evangelical and Pentecostal circles, for the African American Community. We had a passion for what Dr. John Perkins, founder of the Christian Community Development Association, called the Three Rs: Reconciliation, Redistribution, and Relocation. We strongly believed in moving into the community to be part of what God was doing among the marginalized and neglected in society.

Tim and his then-wife, Ericka, were both working for Grace House at the time and lived in Fairfield. As we became friends, I would visit their home for worship nights and prayer gatherings. Building my family of faith amongst like-minded people. Fairfield is also the place where my wife and I fell in love.

It was over prayer and worship sessions at their home that we found ourselves praying, serving, and seeking Jesus in the midst of the city. It was long talks with Tim and Ericka that helped us navigate courtship and engagement. Tim and Ericka managed the discipleship house where I lived, and we moved into an apartment upstairs when we got married to oversee it. They prayed with us, sat with us, counseled us, and showed us what it meant to love Jesus and love one another.

That was such a formative time in our lives. I would affectionately refer to Ercka as Mama E, because she was a spiritual mother whose lips were always dripping with gospel truth, motherly kindness, and godly wisdom. She could both encourage me and correct me in grace, humility, and love.

I woke up this morning thinking about that time in our lives, the love we received, and God’s goodness and grace towards us. I will always be grateful to God for those times, they made me the man that I am today!

Unfortunately, we will never have those times again, at least not in the same way with the same people.

Mama E passed away a few years ago, and before her untimely death, she and Tim divorced, and she went from Ericka Frye back to Ericka Robbins, but she was always Mama E to me. Those years, during and after Covid, were hard on her, and by then we had moved from Fairfield to a smaller home for our still-young family and had planted a church in the Gate City neighborhood of Birmingham, AL.

I regret that during some of those final years, we weren’t as close. We would talk occasionally, but Mama E had been worn down by the dissolution of her marriage and the weight that followed. She carried so much for so many people. We also shared a common challenge; we both struggled through bouts of intense respiratory issues. Mama E had asthma and would have severe flare-ups, and so did I, especially when I was younger. We both got hit really hard with Covid.

I can still remember my wife sitting on the porch as I arrived home in the late summer of 2023. She asked me about my day, and then asked me to sit down, and shared that Mama E had passed.

I didn’t know what to do.

During that season of life, I was going through a pretty difficult time at work. I was leading an organization that had lost $300,000 from our annual budget due to intentional sabotage by another leader in our city who was supposed to be a brother in Christ. I found myself fighting daily battles to keep my staff and programming going, while at times wrestling with certain members of the board for internal and external support.

I was numb, confused, and exhausted.

While my wife and I sat on the porch, I received a call from my brother and an amazing man of God, Jarred. He was Ericka’s pastor and friend, and he called me to tell me of Ericka’s passing as well. We both just sat silently on the phone, trying to encourage each other, but not knowing what to say. We were so used to leading through tragedy and difficulty that we did what we did best: show up for others. All we could do was pray about it and keep moving, because if we sat in silence too long, we would be consumed by grief and loss.

As I look back on that time in my life, I am amazed that we made it through.

We didn’t make it through unscathed, but we survived. It took me over a year to actually grieve Ericka’s passing. It would come with leaving the organization I was leading, and slowing down to be with God and myself to really process through the loss.

But this morning, I am no longer grieving, but grateful. I am grateful to God for Ericka and the role she and Tim played in our lives. I am grateful for their love and kindness. I am grateful for the wisdom and for the faithful presence they brought into our lives. I am grateful that I can still hear Mama E’s voice in my heart saying, “Dannyson, are you willing to count the cost?” Or encouraging me to keep singing.

So, yes, I woke up this morning thinking about marriage and what has helped us endure these almost 13 years. I am grateful for what has been and for what will be!

The song below is what I woke up to this morning:

There’s a particular kind of isolation that comes with being the head of an organization.

You’re the one people look to when things get hard. You carry information you can’t always share. You make decisions that affect livelihoods, and sometimes you make them without anyone to truly process them with.

If you’re a pastor, nonprofit leader, or business owner, you know this weight. And if you’re honest, you’ve probably wondered where you’re supposed to take your hardest questions—the ones you can’t bring to your staff, your board, or even your spouse.

I’ve been there. And I’ve learned that the answer isn’t to push through alone. The answer is to find a community of people who get it.

That’s why I’m excited to be serving as a facilitator for CCDA’s Executive Leadership Peer Coaching Circle this year.

It’s a simple concept: a small group of executive leaders—Senior Pastors, Executive Directors, CEOs, nonprofit founders—meeting monthly for five months to coach each other through real challenges. No lectures. No curriculum to get through. Just honest conversation, collaborative problem-solving, and a confidential space to process what you’re actually facing.

One past participant put it this way: “I appreciated having a regular touch point with other Christians in adjacent work. I especially appreciated having a range of ages and experience levels.”

Another said: “I was inspired by hearing about some of the BIG things that my new friends are working on and I benefited from the advice and encouragement of colleagues who have dealt with similar issues.”

That’s the magic of peer coaching. You realize you’re not the only one navigating these tensions. And you get practical wisdom from people who’ve walked similar roads.

Who is this for?

This cohort is designed for pastors and nonprofit leaders who are the head of their organization—the person who reports to a board or governing entity. That includes Executive Directors, CEOs, Presidents, Senior Pastors, and Business Owners. If your organization uses a shared leadership model, you’re welcome to.

The details:

• Five virtual sessions, 90 minutes each

• Meets the last Tuesday of each month, January–May 2026 (1:00–2:30 PM EST / 12:00-1:30 PM CST)

• Cost: $100 for CCDA members / $200 for non-members

• Registration closes January 26

Commitment matters—attendance at all sessions is expected. That’s part of what makes peer circles work.

If this resonates with you, I’d encourage you to register. And if it’s not the right fit for you, maybe forward this to a pastor or nonprofit leader in your life who could use a community like this.

Leadership doesn’t have to be lonely.

Register here: https://ccda16.wildapricot.org/event-6420109

Questions? Contact Mary Beth Meadows at marybeth@ccda.org

Words haven’t flowed as freely recently; it isn’t because of a lack of thoughts, but a lack of inspiration. I am currently a member of the 2025-2026 PAX Writing Fellowship, and our instructor, Dominique Gillard, recently spoke about the need for inspiration in a writer's life. He asked us: What and who inspire you?

I recently found inspiration in three places that inspired me to complete this post!

The first was on Thanksgiving; my uncle saved a few pictures for me to look at, which quickly became the center of attention as the family gathered around the table and began walking down memory lane. Several pictures stood out, but the one of my grandparents stood out the most.

I have written extensively about my grandparents here, but not exhaustively. How could you ever exhaust the deep well of a Black family that lived through the Great Depression, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Movement, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Cold War, and the many economic booms and declines that encompassed their eight decades? There is so much of their story that has yet to be unearthed; their survival inspires me. I’ll say more on that later.

I also found inspiration in the voice of a man who passed away late last year, but who lived a full life. I was reading Jimmy Carter’s book Faith: A Journey For All, and it wasn’t how he spoke about faith that inspired me most, but his perspective. Jimmy Carter is the only American President to have reached the age of 100. Born in 1924 and serving as President of the United States from 1977 to 1981, Carter lived an abundant life. In his book, he not only reflects on his journey of faith but also on much of his life.

Carter’s perspective on time can only be gained through a life well lived and well reflected upon. It is evident from his writing that he has taken the time to reflect on his life. He speaks of a decade as a necessary experience; he sees his life through the beauty of its totality. It inspired me to stop weighing out my life because the full weight of my experiences hasn’t been added up yet. While there is much to be learned from reflecting on my life so far, by God’s grace, there is still so much more life to be lived. My faith is in the hope of life yet to be lived. That is held together not by my own hands, but by the hands of a loving creator who holds all things together and works all things together by the council of His own will.

Subscribe now

The final inspiration comes from a new friend's writing. A fellow alongside me in PAX. In her most recent piece, she offers a courageous and honest look at hope this Advent season (Your Whispered Hope Is Enough, by https://substack.com/@abenabansahwright). While my grandparents and Jimmy Carter inspired my thoughts about writing, it was AB’s writing that spurred me actually to write.

Survival, Thriving, and the Desire to Live

Dr. Reedha Walker, in her book The Unapologetic Guide to Black Mental Health says, “We were once very clear about who we were and what our collective goal was—survival, we understood that individual survival necessitated survival of the community. Even when we became people who were in bondage, we knew this. Common faith kept us going. Families that were separated merged with new families.” She shares this while reflecting on the need to survive together, and how Black Americans lived for the better part of 350 years. She muses that we have grown far too disconnected from one another, and that has cost us dearly, especially regarding our mental and emotional health and well-being.

In times past, I have compared and contrasted surviving and thriving as though they were juxtaposed. They are not. They are actually wrapped together. One cannot thrive if one doesn’t first learn to survive and navigate reality honestly. We are born into the world as it is, filled with joy, pain, freedom, and subjugation. Some are born oppressed, with their outlook and perspectives limited, while others are born into a world of privilege and opportunity. From birth, we are indoctrinated into the rules of engagement, and if you desire not only to survive but also to thrive, you must first learn the way of things, while thriving may require us to re-learn a new way.

How do we define thriving in our present day? Is it reaching a certain economic or social status? Is it achieving a certain measure of career or personal success? Now, more than ever, this term seems almost impossible to define and nail down. Merriam-Webster defines thriving in a threefold way:

1. To Grow Vigorously: Flourish

2. To Gain Wealth or Possessions: Prosper

3. To progress toward or realize a goal despite or because of circumstances: Resilience

We often look at those who overcome difficult circumstances and achieve a measure of upward mobility as thrivers. Or at those who are financially secure as thrivers. To my grandparents, thriving meant owning their own house and business, sending their kids to good schools, and instilling a deep sense of family and community. That their kids would have more opportunities than they had and would never forget where they came from. It was to set them up to live, build, and make a life not bound by the limitations that society or others would place on them.

I am coming back to this view of thriving, learning that life is about more than achievement, but enjoyment! Not entertainment, but learning to enjoy the gifts that God has blessed us with, mainly the people He places in our lives. The ability to do life together. To pursue peace. The ability to dream a dream that can actually come true. To imagine and hope. To find tranquility and security. That one’s zip code doesn’t lock them into limited opportunities or predetermined outcomes.

Dr. Easu McCalley wrote a book I had the privilege of reviewing, entitled How Far to the Promised Land: One Black Family’s Story of Hope and Survival in the American South. In it, he explores the legacy of his family, but also the reality that for much of American history, most African Americans have pursued a promised land that often looked like a place to call home. Since the Civil Rights movement, what it looks like for Black people to live has been answered in so many ways, with influencer after influencer telling us what it truly looks like to live.

This longing isn’t exclusive to the African American community, but is universal. People are longing for meaning and hope and seeking their own personal or communal definition of hope, purpose, and love.

So, what does it mean to thrive in the 21st Century?

I’ll pick this question back up in my next post, but for now, take some time to ponder what thriving and surviving mean and look like for you!

Share

Get a copy of the book: https://www.amazon.com/Being-Black-Americas-Schools-Student-Educator-Reformers/dp/1496746600

Takeaways

• Brian’s book is inspired by his personal journey as a student and educator.

• The systemic challenges faced by Black students are deeply rooted in historical racism.

• Joy is essential for both educators and students in navigating the challenges of the education system.

• Disillusionment is common among educators, but grassroots efforts can lead to change.

• Understanding the historical context of the education system is crucial for reform.

• Community support is vital for educators feeling isolated in their efforts.

• Empowering students to be critical thinkers is essential for their success.

• The importance of self-reflection in teaching practices cannot be overstated.

• Educators must find purpose in their work to combat feelings of disillusionment.

• The legacy of past leaders in education continues to inspire current reform efforts.

Chapters

00:00 Introduction to Brian Fuller and His Book

01:32 The Journey Behind ‘Being Black in America Schools’

05:28 Systemic Challenges in Education for Black Students

10:17 Disillusionment in Education: A Call to Action

16:33 Thriving as Educators and Students

21:56 Revelations from Writing: Self-Reflection in Education

27:50 The Impact of Brian’s Story on Others

32:23 Key Takeaways and Final Thoughts

37:13 Joy in Reading and Inspiration from History

These lyrics capture something I’ve experienced firsthand.

I remember being a part of a community choir my aunt started in the mid-90s. She did a lot to support young people in the community in reducing violence and promoting community safety. Why did she serve? Because she loved!

I bring this choir up because I remember being a boy singing in this youth choir that opened for Kirk Franklin and The Family. That opportunity came about because of my aunt’s diligence with us and so many other young people throughout the City of Birmingham. Before our young people were crushing it on America’s Got Talent (see video below), we were learning the lyrics to songs like Melodies from Heaven and His Eye Is on the Sparrow.

Things done in love change lives, futures, and provide opportunities that shape us forever.

So, Danny, why do you write?

The WHY behind something is significant and cannot be ignored. It gives life and meaning to the missions we pursue. It infuses our work with purpose beyond ourselves that turns the ordinary into the extraordinary.

You know, a question that I never get asked is, “Why do you write?” I’m not sure why no one ever asks me that question. I often get asked about my writing process or my writing style, but not the why behind it. So, I figured I would take some time and answer a question that no one asked me to answer!

In all honesty, it’s a question that I feel I need to answer for myself.

To understand the answer to that question, you first need to know how my writing came to be. I didn’t learn to read or write until I was in second grade. It was my teacher, Ms. Anderson, who first realized I was memorizing the material by having a friend read it to me. She was a phenomenal teacher who saw more in me than I saw in myself. She took the time to teach me and gave me one of the greatest gifts you can give another person, the ability to read. She also instilled in me a love for reading. I will always love her for her gracious gift! A gift she gave in love!

A couple of years after being in her class, my family moved to a different community, and while it exposed me to the broader world, it stifled my love for reading and writing. That was until my senior year in high school, when my literature teacher, Mr. Rutsky, challenged me to rediscover my passion for reading and writing. In the environment he cultivated in his classroom, I found myself again. I found myself buried in Orson Scott Card’s classic sci-fi book Ender’s Game.

I had forgotten how beautiful books could be.

As I grew older and began writing more, I wanted to honor the gifts that were given to me. I felt like I had something to say about the world around me. That I could add my voice to the chorus of the world choir. I write because I am loved and have been loved well.

Here’s one last question and answer for you before we get out of here!

Question: Danny, what’s the mission behind your writing?

My writing mission statement is “impacting the culture with the values of the Kingdom, by writing from a Black Christian perspective about life, love, and leadership.” When I say “culture,” I use that as a catch-all for society, the things we value, and the way we move through the world. We have many teachers and instructors, many artists and entertainers who not only shape us, but form our culture. Culture can be defined as “The way we do things around here.” I want to help form us not according to the values of this world. Not to use an overly spiritual term, but, as Dr. Tony Evans says, the world is the system that leaves God out. I don’t want to operate under that system, but under the Kingdom, the comprehensive rule of God over all of life.

My writing is identity-based; I do not leave myself behind. I am a Black Christian man, I am not ashamed of who I am, or the perspective I write from, our world needs more diverse voices. It’s the lens through which I’ve experienced the world, being a black male my entire life and a Christian the last 16 years. I write as a witness to testify to my love for Jesus and my love for others. To help people figure out how to engage fully in the world.

That’s why I write about life, love, and leadership. I want to write about all of life as a Kingdom citizen and a world inhabitant.

We are sent into the world, not to retreat from it, but to engage it fully with the truth we carry. Just as Ms. Anderson gave me the gift of reading in love, and Mr. Rutsky gave it back in love, we are called to give our gifts to the world in love. Writing is how I witness. It’s how I participate in the Kingdom work of transformation.

But writing isn’t the only way to witness. Some sing like my aunt’s choir. Some paint. Some teach. Some build. Some lead. The medium matters less than the mission: to be sent into the world as witnesses of love.

So here’s my question for you:

Why do you create? Whether you write, sing, act, or build—what’s the love behind it? What gift were you given that you’re now giving back?

Leave me a comment or send me an email. I’d love to hear your story.

Leave a comment

I ran into a friend and church member while standing in line at the local pharmacy. She slowed, turned around, did a double-take (I was dressed way down), and said hello. She turned and said, “Hug me on this side, because I have a hurt shoulder.” We hugged, and I said I understand—I have a herniated disc myself. She proceeded to tell me how she has been in pain for three weeks and wondered out loud if she couldn’t get any relief because her doctors didn’t believe her pain was that severe, because she’s a black woman. As we spoke, she shared how exhausted she’s been and how she wasn’t only experiencing physical pain, but emotional pain because of feeling unheard, unseen, and ultimately uncared for.

I could do more than empathize with her pain; I understood it, because as of late, it’s been my pain as well.

I recently shared with a friend about my latest trip to the doctor to have my back looked at. It was an all-too-familiar recent experience. I told the doctor about my symptoms; he ran a couple of tests and prescribed medicine. I asked for more than just medicine; my questions ranged from whether I should see an orthopedic doctor to whether I should see a Physical Therapist—all things I had to advocate for myself to receive. The thing is, I don’t think he meant any harm. The problem was that the level of care ended at its most basic: prescribing medication. After sharing this with my friend, he said, “Man, you just wanted someone to care.” He was right. I told him about my mom’s recommendation — she’s been a medical professional for over 40 years — and the recommendations of a physical therapist at church, and my wife, who earned her credentials from WebMD and Google.

He said, “When you’re in pain and hurting, all you really want is someone to care, because when they care, they will go above and beyond searching every ounce of knowledge they have to help you.”

This friend was on his way to becoming a physical therapist until the Lord called him into ministry. Now he uses his knowledge, wisdom, and compassion to care for people holistically.

We have so much to learn from the healers amongst us. Those who bind up the brokenhearted and who do not crush a bruised reed nor quench a smoldering fire.

The scriptures above refer to the heart and work of Jesus. The man of sorrows, acquainted with grief, is also the one who is moved with compassion. I’ve found that when others don’t take time to listen and hear the physical or emotional pain I am experiencing, Jesus always makes space for me. In the words of Common Hymnal, “He is here, and He has time, to take what’s wrong and make it right.” I also find healing in the compassionate hearts of those who take the time to care. To check in. To follow up.

But what does this care look like in the lives of churches, organizations, hospitals, and other institutions of service? How do we better care for one another in our everyday spaces? How do we better help those in caring professions not move from patient to patient or client to client, but to be present with those entrusted to their care? I’m on a mission to answer these questions, not because others haven’t thought deeply about this, but because I care.

My role as a writer is to ask questions of us as a people. As an American and global citizen, I must add my voice to the chorus seeking to make love, compassion, and care endemic. I believe that, as a writer, it’s my responsibility not to take my eyes off the micro, mezzo, and macro challenges we are experiencing.

So much of our current civic discourse is around macro-level societal challenges. We need writers, advocates, thought leaders, public servants, pastors, community leaders, and public intellectuals to care deeply and think critically about how we address these nationwide problems. But we cannot neglect the issues impacting our neighbors and our cities. We must learn to do the hard work of doing one while not leaving the other undone.

This is hard work. It requires us to care deeply, understand our role, and be interdisciplinary in our approach. We must sit with and learn from others. A mentor once shared some of the most valuable advice I’ve ever received. He told me, “Danny, you must learn to read deeply and read widely. There are certain areas that you will need to specialize in, but you also need to understand enough about the world and the people living in it to be present with them.”

This advice has never failed me. Whether sitting with a mayor from a large municipal province in South Africa, a CEO seeking to provide affordable clean water and energy alternatives in Central America, or a hurting friend in line at the pharmacist.

That’s why over the next few months, I will be taking the time to better understand health, sickness, and healthcare in America. I’ll be reading the following books, which specifically focus on the stories of people of color and the health care system:

• A History of the World in Six Plagues

• Legacy: A Black Physician Reckons with Racism in Medicine

• Under the Skin: The Hidden Toll of Racism on American Lives

• Pregnant While Black: Advancing Justice for Maternal Health in America

• Viral Justice: How We Grow the World We Want

If you know of any other books I should read to understand this vital topic better, please share them in the comments.

Leave a comment

Or if you would like to follow along, please subscribe to this newsletter and follow me to receive my posts in the notes section of Substack.

I look forward not only to learning but also to the love in action that comes from this journey. To follow along, use #ReadingToCare.

Dr. Lester highlights the need for trauma-informed approaches in education and community service, advocating for innovative solutions to address social issues. His organization, Love Beyond Walls, exemplifies his commitment to serving those in need and fostering a sense of belonging and dignity.

Share

Takeaways

• Dr. Lester emphasizes the duality of gratitude and grief in his life.

• Community plays a crucial role in overcoming adversity.

• Historical trauma impacts educational outcomes for black children.

• Education is a pathway to personal and community empowerment.

• Trauma-informed care is essential in educational settings.

• Frustration with systems can lead to innovative solutions.

• Love Beyond Walls aims to reframe narratives around poverty.

• Building relationships is key to community support.

• It’s important to recognize and affirm the dignity of every individual.

• Personal stories of struggle can inspire collective action.

Chapters

00:00 Introduction to Dr. Terence Lester and His Journey

05:41 Understanding Historical Trauma and Its Impact

11:32 Navigating Educational Barriers and Personal Challenges

19:28 The Role of Community in Overcoming Adversity

27:24 Innovating for Change: A Call to Action

31:25 The Mission of Love Beyond Walls

37:26 Closing Thoughts and Reflections

Have you ever taken time to slow down and look up? To find and admire the wonderful in nature? To ponder God’s creation and see the beauty?

Beauty!

Hm, now that’s an interesting word with a depth of meaning. It’s a word like love, often used with a variety of meanings. People can be beautiful, things can be beautiful, places can be beautiful, and experiences can be beautiful.

My Grandfather was a man who, no matter the season, could always find the beauty in life. He was a courageous, caring, and complex man. He poured concrete and planted gardens! He fought in World War II and owned a community grocery store. He took us to church, and he drank more than he should.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to understand the coping mechanisms that the Greatest Generation employed for their survival. My Grandfather was a veteran of a war he was man enough to fight in, but when he came home, he struggled to find his footing as a Black man in the American South. He was a man who knew his intrinsic dignity and always felt that his location was too small for him, yet he made the most out of the opportunities he had been afforded.

I mention my Grandfather here because he would often utter the word beautiful. He was a man who could be present with himself and with others. I never heard him utter the words “I love you,” but he showed it in the beauty he cultivated. Through hours spent taking us to swimming lessons, through the fruit and vegetables we picked in his garden, through allowing us to live with him for seven years, and through a shared whopper and fries with my cousins.

I thought about my Grandfather this past weekend while I was on a retreat as a PAX Fellow in Scottsdale, Arizona, at the Franciscan Renewal Center. The Pax Fellowship is the signature program of Made For Pax. It’s a nine-month fellowship for Christians of color ages 25-45, offering virtual sessions that include teaching, group mentorship, spiritual direction, contemplative practices, and community building for peace and justice. There was so much beauty to take in! In the people, the scenery, and the experience. I met this beautiful brother named Patrick from the Atlanta, GA area, who is also a fellow. On our last day there, I passed by him a couple of times as he was standing still and looking up. When I finally stopped to speak with him, he shared with me that he was captivated by the hummingbirds.

Subscribe now

Hummingbirds

Admittedly, I have never stopped to look at hummingbirds. I’ve glanced, but never studied their beauty or their frame. As Patrick shared with me how he was mesmerized by these birds, I found myself caught up in their splendor. He pointed out how their wings are like the propellers of a helicopter, always flapping as they dash and dart in and out of the sky. He heard the gentle noise they made as they found flower after flower to draw nectar and nutrients from.

He videoed them, but did not want to be perceived as a threat, so he did so from a distance. He reminded me of my Grandfather, so I shared about my Grandfather with him. As we stood there exchanging words, it struck me just how beautiful and diverse people are. There I was at the Franciscan Renewal Center with a group of leaders of color from all over the United States, who are doing incredibly challenging yet divinely beautiful things: pursuing righteousness, mercy, and justice in communities, towns, tribal territories, cities, and states throughout America. What beautiful people they are!

I study people, just as Patrick studied the hummingbirds. I asked questions and listened to their stories.

Like my roommate, who lives in GA and ministers to couples alongside his wife while working in government, and used to be a middle school football coach and teacher. Or a cohortmate who is an Ethiopian American who wrote a one-woman play and has performed it in D.C., LA, and New York! Or a sister in the ministry in Oakland, California, who lives on a farm and works to create space for others in her denomination. Or one of the men who started Made For Pax and left to pastor a church in Pasadena, California, with the best church name I’ve ever heard, The Church We Hope For, who gave a profound talk about Shrewdness and the Kingdom of God! Or several Black women who have been impacted by the regressive policies of the current administration on DEI and have lost their jobs. Pastors, teachers, advocates, executive directors, writers, poets, activists, musicians, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, daughters and sons, and a whole host of other things—people made in the image of God.

Beautiful people doing beautiful things!

Share

Patrick wasn't done with his observations. As we continued watching the hummingbirds dart through the air, he suddenly smiled and said, “You know what this reminds me of? Allen Iverson.” You can imagine the smile on my face as he launched into this unexpected comparison.

Allen Iverson

He shared that trying to explain both was too wonderful for him to put into words. Watching the hummingbird in its natural environment was akin to watching Iverson with a basketball in his hands, darting in and out of the lane and pivoting around and crossing over defenders.

There is something unexplainable about the hummingbird; the physiology doesn’t add up. How can such a small bird move so fast and sustain itself in flight? The same could be asked of Iverson: how can someone less than six feet tall dominate in a game that centers around height? As I reflected on this, I thought about all those who are participating in the PAX Fellowship. How can Millennial and Gen Z Christian leaders of color thrive in such an environment of hostility? How do they continue to thrive in a country of Christian colorblindness, loss of funding for organizations, the erasure of their history, and the limiting of opportunities?

Being at the PAX retreat was like watching the hummingbirds fly or Allen Iverson play basketball. It was seeing Christians of Color in their natural element. They were free to be who God created them to be. We worshipped freely, laughed, cried, debated theology, and built meaningful connections. We encouraged one another and prayed for one another. We reminded each other that we are not alone! We lamented and celebrated. We discussed heavy topics on the genocide taking place in Palestine, the issues plaguing our communities, and the deportation of people made in the image of God at the hands of the Federal Government.

We saw the gospel preached, sung, and lived out; deepening our hearts to care for the least, the last, and the lost. To seek peace, proclaim righteousness, and to act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.

It was a beautiful experience!

Things Too Wonderful For Me

As Patrick and I concluded our conversation, he commented that “some things are just too wonderful for me to understand.” That remark reminded me of the words of Agur, the writer of Proverbs chapter 30. I opened this piece with verses 18 and 19, which say,

“Three things are too wondrous for me; four I can’t understand: the way of an eagle in the sky, the way of a snake on a rock, the way of a ship at sea, and the way of a man with a young woman.”

Reading Agur’s words, you can see that he was a man who pondered things deeply. He took time to think about the beauty and complexity of the world. Agur viewed life in light of God’s bigness, but admitted that he was limited in his understanding because of his lowly nature.

I left the PAX Retreat with a sense of the bigness of God. It’s not that I agreed with every word from every speaker or every perspective; there was much that I found myself wrestling with. Things I disagreed with and moments of extreme joy and beauty. But I left with a feeling that God is big enough for all of us. That there is grace and space for us in Christ along the journey! What may be clear to me at this stage of my journey may not be to another brother or sister on their stage of the journey and vice versa, and that’s okay.

Christianity is not about perfection but about pursuit. I saw men and women who are faithfully pursuing after the heart of Jesus, boldly proclaiming the need for Jesus, Justice, and a New Generation of disciples. For the church to be called back to the Scripture, for systems of oppression to be broken, and for “justice to run down like a river, and righteousness like a mighty stream” (Amos 5:24).

It was all too wonderful for me, but like my new friend Patrick and my Grandfather, I will continue to gaze at beautiful things and participate in the cultivation of beauty!

Leave a comment

I recently finished Dawn Staley's powerful memoir Uncommon Favor, and one quote stopped me in my tracks:

"My neighborhood felt like a neighborhood. Yes, we shared struggles and pain, but we also shared our happiness and hope."

This got me thinking about my own childhood in Birmingham's East Thomas neighborhood, and what truly makes a community thrive. It's not about perfect conditions or pristine infrastructure—it's about the people and the connections they build together.

Subscribe now

In my latest piece for The Hopeful Neighborhood Project, I explore The 4 C's of Thriving that can transform any neighborhood into a place where people genuinely share life together:

• Conditions - Understanding where your community stands

• Connections - Finding the places where neighbors naturally gather

• Collaborations - Working together through existing networks

• Commitments - Building lasting bonds that sustain community care

Whether you're looking at your neighborhood through rose-colored glasses or feeling discouraged by its challenges, there's hope. Every neighborhood has the potential to become a place where people don't just live side by side, but truly share happiness and hope together.

Read the full post: "Creating Community in Your Neighborhood" →

What makes your neighborhood feel like home? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.

Leave a comment

Our Heavenly Father, we thank Thee that although Thou hast brought us to this pleasant land as slaves and chattels, Thou hast also stricken the chains from our arms and our legs and set us free, free in some areas, not in others; free in some respects, not in others. But most of all, there is freedom of speech and freedom of action. These next days, as we perfect our plans to march on Washington and demonstrate our intentions to be fully free at any cost, strengthen the courage of our leaders, reassure the weak, confound our enemies, and on Wednesday, August 28, 1963, march with us. Amen.

~ A Prayer by Carl Murphy, editor and publisher of the AFRO-AMERICAN Newspapers (1922-1967), before the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom

Today marks the 62nd anniversary of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. This march was organized by leaders of the Civil Rights Movement to advocate for the Civil Rights Bill proposed by President John F. Kennedy. Leaders like John Lewis (Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, SNCC), Roy Wilkins (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, NAACP), Whitney Young (National Urban League), A. Philip Randolph (Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters), James Farmer (Congress of Racial Equality, CORE), and Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. (Southern Christian Leadership Conference, SCLC).

Although these women leaders have received more recognition now, they should be listed alongside their male counterparts to demonstrate the holistic nature of this Movement. Women like Diane Nash (SNCC), Rosa Parks, Daisy Bates (NAACP), and Ella Baker, to name a few.

Few leaders have demonstrated leadership quite like those of the 20th century’s Civil Rights Movement. My definition of leadership is: the ability to organize, mobilize, and systematize a group of people towards a shared mission. The leaders present at the March on Washington demonstrated their ability to transform organizations, cities, and eventually an entire nation. They embodied this definition of leadership.

They loved, led, and labored for a chance to experience whole lives. Knowing that it would not only take Black Americans, but all Americans to see this dream fully realized.

Not only was this Movement a civic one, but it was also a spiritual movement, or, to use an American Evangelical term, an Awakening. To that end, Jonathan Tremaine Thomas wrote a powerful article, "The Unrecognized Great Awakening," about viewing the Civil Rights Movement as America’s Fourth Great Awakening. In it, he says:

The awakening I see is not the rise of the Religious Right, as has been proposed elsewhere. It is the Civil Rights Movement, which exhibited that same pattern of calls for repentance and revival followed by tangible social impact... Perhaps those—Christian or not—who aren’t active participants in the Black worship tradition have undervalued or overlooked the hand of God in instigating and sustaining this movement and its transformation of American society… But whatever the reason, historians and theologians alike have failed to acknowledge or embrace this awakening led by the Black church (or, indeed, to embrace the Black church itself)… The Civil Rights Movement under the leadership of Martin Luther King Jr. was not a revival in the sense of a mass public proclamation of the gospel of salvation. But from my vantage within America’s freedom experiment, its defining characteristic was mass demonstration of the fruits of salvation (Matt. 7:15–20).

There were immense victories that emerged from this Movement, and a great spiritual revival that took place in the hearts and homes of many across America. The nation saw legislation such as the Civil Rights Act of 1964, born out of tragedy and triumph, the Voting Rights Act of 1965, and the Fair Housing Act of 1968. There were also significant Civil Rights decisions, such as the ruling in Brown v. Board of Education. Their leadership and sacrifices mattered in the lives of everyday people and the life of a nation.

Subscribe now

As the Founder & President of Forged: Birmingham Leadership Foundation, I work with leaders every day, helping them to clarify their mission, lead from the inside out, and be courageous and consistent in their leadership. We work together to discover how we can shape the future through innovation and learn from our past leaders who shaped their world.

I have two observations from this work: The first is that we seem to have a dichotomy in the world of leadership. We have a growing number of emerging leaders who are zealous and ready to meet the challenges of today. On the other hand, we have a group of existing leaders who have faithfully been in the fight but have grown a bit weary from the constant battles they’ve faced.

While this is an oversimplification, I see far too many leaders who are weary, isolated, lonely, and flat-out exhausted—yet they have not given up hope. I view it as my mission to work alongside both groups to help them start, run, and complete their endeavors successfully. To Endure Together. Just as these Civil Rights Leaders learned to do.

Share

These leaders are why I wrote this article. There are still many leaders who are unfamiliar with this history, yet they lead in African American contexts. This is true whether these leaders are Black, White, or of Any Other Racial Background. I link to all these sources and have resources available below, as I want this to serve as a valuable resource for leaders. Whether you are tired and weary, need a reminder, or haven’t delved deeply into this history, this resource is for you. Save it. Click on the links. Ask questions in the comments. We are leading through perilous and uncertain times in every sector of American life. You don’t have to lead alone. The leaders above didn’t.

I’ll leave you with these words from Michelle T. Sanchez

They [The Christian Civil Rights leaders] would pray before marching to center themselves in the nonviolent Spirit of God. Then they would march and sing, meeting tremendous resistance and even injury. This would prompt them to pray and rely on God for the power to love and forgive, which again would prompt them to engage their neighbors. This cycle is the key to quiet strength.

Resources for Further Study

• NAACP (website)

• National Underground Railroad Freedom Center - (Website/Museum - Cincinnati, Ohio)

• National Museum for African American History and Culture - (Website/Museum - Washington, D.C.)

• The King Center - (Website/Museum - Atlanta, GA)

• The Martin Luther King, Jr. Research and Education Institute at Stanford University -(Website)

• Equal Justice Initiative - (Website and The Legacy Sites - Montgomery, AL)

• Additional resource guide filled with Books, Articles, and Documentaries

As someone who strives to be a "scholarly practitioner," I'm always asking: "What am I making of my world?"

I recently explored this question through the lens of the Six Endowments of Human Ecology—six areas where we can pursue the flourishing of our neighbors:

• The True (knowledge and learning)

• The Good (social mores and ethics)

• The Beautiful (creativity and design)

• The Prosperous (economic life)

• The Just and Well-Ordered (civic life)

• The Sustainable (physical health)

Every community has a distinct culture shaped by those who've lived there—some stories beautiful, some broken. But here's what excites me: we all have the power to cultivate shalom (wholeness, well-being, completeness) right where we are.

Want to know how to put this into practice in your own neighborhood?

Read my full thoughts on creating community culture at the Hopeful Neighborhood Project → https://www.hopefulneighborhood.org/blog/creating-neighborhood-culture/

A couple of years ago, #1 New York Times bestselling author Kwame Alexander published a memoir entitled Why Father’s Cry at Night: A Memoir in Love Poems, Letters, Recipes, and Remembrances. It was real and raw, exactly what I needed in that season of life and fatherhood.

I used his book as a guide to navigate my own story at the time. Reading his thoughtful poems and crafting my own alongside him. As he detailed recipes that brought back seasons of life gone by, I thought about meals shared, as Google Photos reminded me of cherished memories.

I wrote and prayed, but no tears flowed. I connected with Kwame’s story—his pain, pleasure, and pauses: the reflective moments and the weight of unrealized futures. Yet, as much as his poetry and prose moved me, we didn’t cry together.

Tears have been hard for me ever since I was a 7th-grade boy. I know why, but that’s a story for another time, maybe another place. I’ve cried since then, but tears don’t flow; they trickle as often as an eclipse of the sun.

As a father, it's been a tale of two cities, the best of times and the worst of times. The joy of fatherhood is almost unrivaled. When my daughter was born, I didn't know that such deep and instant love was possible. Becoming a father changed me. I grew up and became a man. Not because of my daughter's birth, but my desire to meet the moment. To not neglect or abdicate responsibility.

Fatherhood was new for me and made complicated by being a 21-year-old reformed man-child. A new father who had a difficult relationship with his father. A familiar story. Broken relationship with the mother of his child, because they were kids playing adults. Trying to find our way in the broader world. Musicians, singers, performers—moving through life playing a role, singing a song with a broken melody. I've written about this elsewhere—no need to rehash it here.

I can write about this publicly because I've taken the time to process it privately. As Kwame does in his memoir, I've traced the lines of my life and lineage to better understand myself, my proclivities, and my past. This is a hard-fought skill, and I want to share it with you. Creating space to process the pain and experience.

That’s why we are hosting Write Your Way Back: Father’s Day edition. To get honest with ourselves about the things that have made our hearts sick. I’m grateful to Kwame Alexander for sharing his story. I’ve shared some of mine with you. Will you join us to start sharing your story with yourself? I hope you can join us!

With love,

A father

Invitation

If anything I’ve shared resonates with your story—or someone you love’s story—I invite you to a space we’ve created.

Cristal and I are leading a special "Write Your Way Back" gathering on Sunday, June 8, at 3:00 p.m. CST. It’s for anyone who finds Father’s Day to be complicated, painful, or heavy.

Through guided writing prompts, optional sharing, prayer, and a brief period of worship, we’ll create a space for grief, reflection, and perhaps even hope.

This is for the fatherless.
For the father in mourning.
For the one who’s trying.
For the one who still aches.

Join us here: bit.ly/wywbfde
(You'll also receive a 10-day journaling guide to continue the work afterward.)