A few weeks ago, I went on a 5-day, 75-mile pilgrimage walk into Rome.

95 degrees outside.

Italian countryside.

Miles of olive trees.

Horses, sheep, and cattle.

Pasta and cigars at night (don’t tell anyone about the cigars...).

One step at a time toward “The Eternal City”.

When you’re walking from this thousand-year-old town to the next, there isn’t much to do but walk, talk, and think about your life, considering how you got where you are and wondering where your life is headed.

I’m on a forest path surrounded by green beams of sunlight shining through the leaves, little brooks making quiet sounds at our feet. And as I’m reflecting, a comment someone had made to me a week prior comes to mind.

Rewind the tape!

I just left dinner in New York City. You guessed it… Italian food. We’re walking south on 9th Ave back toward apartments, and I’m getting teased about my answers from our conversation.

“You’re being so vague, Max! All your responses are general. You won’t answer any question plainly.”

“Look (pointing to my heart somewhat jokingly) there’s a deep well in here. You think I’m just gonna fork it all over.”

“I know you’re teasing, but I can feel that.”

Perhaps this seems a bit cheesy, but I was caught off guard. It felt so kind, direct, and meaningful.

It was strange to me that whatever intuition this person had was signaling to themself that I had something worthwhile buried within me that I was unwilling to share. I was guarding.

It made me feel cared for and valued.

It made me feel like “gosh, perhaps I do have something to offer,” and that I’m doing a disservice by veiling it for whatever reason.

What is someone to do with their heart?

Do we veil it? Obey it?

We’re all a bit like the rider in Luther’s line:

“The world is like a drunken peasant. If one helps him into the saddle on one side, he will fall off on the other side.”

I feel as if I am susceptible to making two errors with my heart, and both downfalls clearly manifest themselves in the world and the church.

The first fall is obvious. It’s the one that religious folks are most wary of: the blessing of chaotic self-indulgence.

This is Paul’s theological concept of the flesh.

Base desires, wrongly directed, that unravel the soul and human relationships.

This is a clear kind of damage. A longing for satisfaction that leads to destructive actions.

The other side of the saddle is more subtle and paralyzes the soul less abruptly.

Eliminating the heart.

In reaction to a kind of postmodern, Disney-esque age of authenticity, expressive individualism, a modern Rousseauian romanticism, a pastor might rightly criticize through banter we’ve all heard.

“The culture says, ‘you do you.’”

“The culture says, ‘live your truth.’”

“The culture says, ‘follow your heart.’”

Now the ball is teed up, and the communicator is about to hit a foul ball right into the teeth of the crowd.

“BUT THE BIBLE SAYS, ‘THE HEART IS DECEITFUL ABOVE ALL THINGS, AND DESPERATELY WICKED: WHO CAN KNOW IT?!” (Jeremiah 17:9)

The crowd goes wild. “Yeahhh wicked hearts!!!” as the pastor trots around the bases like Kirk Gibson’s World Series walk-off.

“Listen to your heart?! Are you some kind of fool?”

So now what’s everyone left with?

Eliminate the heart altogether?

One may no longer consult their desires with honesty for fear they won’t be treated carefully or worse they may lead you astray.

Whatever the fear is, it results in what Lewis famously wrote:

“We remove the organ and demand the function. We make men without chests, and we expect of them virtue and enterprise.”

This is a tragedy.

It’s hard to get people full of life when we gut them of desire and shame their transparency.

You end up trying to score points by only playing defense and never shooting the ball.

You get soulless machines.

You end up getting pilgrims moving toward the city of God with no love or fire in them, just fear of theoretical dangers on the path.

At best you end up living to not do something.

I want to live for something.

Those seem to be the two errors: a destructively indulgent heart or an eliminated one.

In the ancient world, because the heart is the organ that keeps life going in someone, perhaps the organ that all other organs are dependent on, the heart was one metaphor for the core/center of a person.

It was the seat of loves, affections, and will. The place where you decided what you wanted and what you’d move toward.

The Bible diagnoses the state of the heart; it doesn’t dismiss the category altogether as useless. It’s not something to be done away with, but something to be renewed, and that’s the whole point of the gospel: that the hearts of men would be reunited with God again, to trade their vileness for virtue.

I want evil killed in my heart, but I don’t want my heart killed.

I want God to breathe in me so that I’d have a spirit that brings vitality to the world around me.

I’ll acknowledge my desires with gratitude at the very least that I’m a human capable of feeling.

Offer them up entirely to God. Choke out the ones that destroy me. Feed the ones that lead to life.

With courage give my heart away even if you give a few pearls to pigs and it’s trampled on. It’s better than never using it at all.

And then live wholeheartedly.

As I’m completing my walk into Rome and arrive at the Vatican, and considered what it was that I was feeling, I found that some of Steinbeck’s words touched on some of it.

“It happens to many men, and I think doctors have memorized the litany. It had happened to so many of my friends. The lecture ends, “Slow down. You’re not as young as you once were.” And I had seen so many begin to pack their lives in cotton wool, smother their impulses, hood their passions, and gradually retire from their manhood into a kind of spiritual and physical semi-invalidism…A kind of second childhood falls on so many men. They trade their violence for the promise of a small increase of life span…

And I have searched myself for this possibility with a kind of horror. For I have always lived violently, drunk hugely, eaten too much or not at all, slept around the clock or missed two nights of sleeping, worked too hard and too long in glory, or slobbed for a time in utter laziness. I’ve lifted, pulled, chopped, climbed, made love with joy, and taken my hangovers as a consequence, not as a punishment. I did not want to surrender fierceness for a small gain in yardage...”

What are you doing with your heart?

Are there good things buried inside? Is it time to dig them up?

Whatever the reason may be to burry a heart, I don’t want to.

I won’t condemn it altogether.

I’ll ask God to clean it.

And then use it for Him.

I hope you do too.

- M.C.D

I was at an Italian restaurant in Midtown.

Charming dim lighting, laughs, good conversation, and food.

Kind of felt like a secret hideaway.

This dinner was put together by a local pastor to spend time with Gen Z professionals and ask them questions to help him stay in touch with the upcoming generation.

Some were in film. Others were in law. Fashion. The corporate world.

A young, fun group.

One of his last questions of the night, the pastor asked us,

“What is helping you most follow Jesus?”

One of the women in the group spoke up, who’s in the middle of completing a challenging advanced degree,

“I think when [insert anonymous name] lets me walk home with her and her kids.”

She went on to explain that theres a mom in our church who she has developed relationship with, and an hour here or there she’s invited to tag along with the ordinary busyness that the family is already engaged with.

Aside from engaging with God directly through prayer, scripture and maybe the local gathering.

This is was of the defining practice that is helping her follow Jesus.

I don’t know how you feel about the discussion of discipleship as in “discipling” others.

Maybe it’s confusing.

But I think part of the disconnect ordinary Christians feel is: 1) “How do I do this?” and 2) “Maybe I have to develop a formal PHD level curriculum to methodically walk someone through.”

I love this from Dr. Robert Coleman,

“Having called his men, Jesus made a practice of being with them. This was the essence of his training program, just letting his disciples follow him.”

DID YOU HEAR THAT?

Continue…

“When one stops to think of it, this was an incredibly simple way of doing it. Jesus had no formal school, no seminaries, no outlined course of study, no periodic membership classes in which he enrolled his followers. None of these highly organized procedures considered so necessary today entered into his ministry. Amazing as it may seem, all Jesus did to teach these men his way was to draw them close to himself. He was his own school and curriculum.”

He goes on…

“Building men and women is not that easy. It requires constant personal attention, much like a father gives to his children. This is something that no organization or class can ever do. Children are not raised by proxy. The example of Jesus would teach us that it can be done only by persons staying close to those whom they seek to lead.”

I have some formal theological training, and it has certainly helped in areas, but genuinely, as I reflect on what has been most influential in my discipleship to Jesus, (outside of my family of origin) it’s likely been men who are further along than me, where there is some form of mutual affinity (I wanted to learn something from him; he saw me as a semi- worthwhile investment), where I basically fought my way to get proximity toward them, or they invited me in.

The New Testament Greek word for “disciple” is (mathētēs), which comes from the verb (manthanō), meaning “to learn.”

So a mathētēs is literally a “learner” or “pupil.”

People who follow Jesus are to be learners of Jesus.

As you know, before Jesus leaves, he tells his disciples, "Go and make disciples" (Matthew 28:19-20).

But how?

Here’s a clue from the Apostle Paul: "Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ" (1 Cor. 11:1).

In other words people need to get around people who know Jesus more than they do.

Christ in you is the curriculum!

Truth’s matter… of course. But people need models to see truths in action.

Kids know this. You might’ve forgotten much of what your parents said, but you know the kind of life they lived.

How you’re living says more about what you believe than what you say.

Here’s a few thoughts I’ve been considering as I gear up to put some of this into practice in my context.

1. What do you already do that you can let someone join in on?
   
   Let’s get the shame of you! You’re probably too busy to do anything more!
   
   Or what might you set aside time for THAT YOU LIKE that you can invite someone into, e.g., going on a walk, reading the Bible at a coffee shop every other week, smoking cigars (of course I would never do that), going to the gym, a meal set aside once a month.
   

2. Is there some relationship of mutual affinity that comes to mind?
   
   Look, the disciples didn't follow Jesus cause they were guilted into it. It would've been an honor. Look for people you have the sense look up to you, even just barely.
   
   And he didn’t choose them out of mere pity, but because in prayer he discerned there was something he wanted to call them to. Who’s around you that you sense has a calling for something more on their life?
   

3. When you meet with someone, talk about 3 things:

*someone passed these along to me

(LOOK BACK) — “How are you?” Just be a human. Share life.

(LOOK UP) — Get to God and the person of Jesus somehow. Maybe its through a problem either of you have, an idea someones wrestling through, a passage of scripture you’re thinking about, “What’s God doing in your life?”, etc.

(LOOK FORWARD) “How can I bless and pray for you, man?” Send people out with compassion and encouragement so they know you’re in their corner.

The truth is, you’re already be doing this with the organic relationships that are already in your life (kids, friends, family), but are there other relationships that God has given you opportunity with where you can make a small, enjoyable deposit in?

This isn’t grandiosity it’s vulnerability. It’s inviting people in to see you and learn from it.

My life was changed by a basketball coach who would get breakfast with me once a month, a youth pastor who let me be around his family, and a college student who let me hang out with him and his friends.

Ask God for discernment and help!

”Is there someone you want me allow access into my life, Lord?”

There’s kingdom fruit out there that belongs on your tree.

You can only give away what you have and you have something to give… YOU.

You following Jesus with integrity is what you have to give.

Find ways to invite people into your life and give them yourself.

You are the curriculum.

Be blessed!

- Max

This morning, I bit my tongue off…
It doesn’t hurt so bad because I’m numb all the way
“No thank you, I’m all full” on amusement and hustle
“But don’t forget to drink,” I hear my good God say

This morning, I graduated from college
Coming of age and degrees on their way
I’m so glad these fun friends and fun times will last forever, right?
“But don’t forget to drink,” I hear my good God pray

This morning, I moved to New York City
Of course we’re here to stay
Dreams, apartments, jobs, uncertain of my purpose
“But don’t forget to drink,” I hear my good God say

This morning, I’ve married and had a kid
My wife’s radiant and my son and I play
He’s headed off to college; wrinkles on our face
“But don’t forget to drink,” I heard my good God pray

My eyes are dim now and I hear a young voice asking
“Did that really all happen, the forgetting of basking?”

“Of course not,” I say, “it’s by far even worse
None of that happened
I only scrolled in bed, in some kind of busy, riskless curse

I had no discipline to be happy
I had no discipline to fill the well
I’d start my day
Repeat it again in a busy prison hell

Can I redeem it even now?
It’s over in a blink
I wished I’d enjoyed
Can I accept the words of heaven: ‘My child, please drink?’”

And then a flash from the sky consumed me in all
A Son of Man said
“I’ll give you a chance to be born again, before your fall

But if you start again
I’m commanding: ‘taste and see’
That the joys of life flow from a well of living water
which is Me

And if you refuse the cup
If you refuse to delight
You’re doing no one a favor
You’re rejecting the light

So start again
But don’t be so cheap
My daughter, my son
Drink up, live till you weep

Pour your heart out
But drink even more
So that you’ll savor the time
And you’ll bless the poor

Be a glutton of joy
Be a glutton of God
Taste that God is good
And heaven will applaud

Goodbye, dear child
Forget not to taste and see
The wedding feast is coming
Where you’ll taste entirely

…

This morning, I got my tongue back
And had a feast every day
I paid attention

“Don’t forget to drink,” I heard my good God say

It’s an interesting time to be a man right now across all generations. You have models somewhere between Andrew Tate and what’s known as the performative male, tote bag in hand and Jane Austen in the other (shots fired… read it in secret).

(I listened to Pride and Prejudice for the first time on Audible while working a landscaping job the summer after college.)

I work for someone who, among other things, leads a private group of highly successful men, about forty in all, mostly in business or pastoral ministry, who meet in person twice a year.

This last month, as an employee of my boss, I flew from New York City to Nashville to gather with this group.

I was intimidated and inspired.

Intimidated that I might be shamed, rejected, or embarrass myself in front of them, particularly as the youngest man there.

Inspired by the consequence of these men’s lives and how they’ve massively blessed each of their communities. Most of them are married, have lots of children, and are striving to excel in their vocation and local context.

A virtuous man skillfully stewarding his gifts for the good of others is not something every younger man has direct exposure to, and I was moved by being in the presence of this group.

Perspective is what they gave me.

You’ve probably heard the line, “Most men die at 27, but we bury them at 72.”

I’m 27. I feel the weight of figuring out how to leverage my life to be a blessing to many, to be a competent man.

But it can be hard to know how to do that well. It can be hard to be good at being a man.

How can younger men channel their passion without clear, reliable pathways and models on how to move forward in the modern world?

Do men know how to be self-controlled sexually?
Do men know how to find a wife?
Do men know how to learn a craft and excel in a field?
Do men know how to steward their resources shrewdly?
Do men know how to lead a family?
Do men know how to follow God?

Are men good at being men?

We hate to admit it, but COVID did more damage than it seems, leaving Gen Zers uncertain about how to move forward in the world. Many young guys are outside the traditional, chronological timelines for life compared to their predecessors. Yet you might still long to do something that matters, and even more, to become something that matters, to live a life of consequence.

The once-clear path is muddled.

As I reflected on this, I see a number of pitfalls Gen Z men like myself might fall into when it comes to figuring out how to channel their inward ache and energy as they move forward in life.

#1. The Ditch of Hedonism

Contrary to suppression, the hedonist believes that accomplished pleasure is his highest aim. This is the voice within a man that tells him he won’t be satisfied until he finds the consummation of each of his desires.

If the stomach wants food, eat until it’s stuffed.
If the brain wants excitement or relief, medicate and numb.
If the body wants sex, by any means necessary.

I think men pursue hedonism not only because they love pleasure, but maybe because they don’t know what to do with their desire. Is there really any hope for a happy life they find within themselves? Stuff it or chase it down; there seems to be no other way.

#2. The Ditch of Suppression

Restraining our desires has its place. Not every desire deserves to be acted on, and there are times, of course, when the right response is simply to restrain it, to feel the pull and choose not to follow.

But suppression can be a sad thing.

The pit of suppression is maybe less of a place one falls into but rather a place a man is pushed into.

You see this when a young boy comes forward with emerging sexual energy, and instead of it being acknowledged and directed in a healthy community of men, he is laughed at, mocked, and so he shuts down. This won’t put out the fire within; it will just be pushed elsewhere into hidden, destructive places. What feels forced to suppress in public will leak out in private.

He comes to believe that desire itself is something to be ashamed of. Any sensitivity or passion is now thought of as weakness if revealed.

Now you’re left with a young man who, at best, is unproductive with his eros, and at worst, secretly destructive.

#3. The Ditch of Softness

In his book Iron John (which spent 62 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list in the ‘90s), Robert Bly tells a brief history of how the model of manhood has shifted drastically in America over the past decades.

He notes that in the fifties, men were hardworking, responsible, and attempted to be all the world needed them to be. They did their duty, but neglected aspects of their spirits.

When the sixties came, a kind of disillusionment set in. If being a man meant completely embracing the Vietnam War, perhaps you shouldn’t be one. Also, with the emergence of second-wave feminism, the movement that expanded feminism beyond voting rights into sexuality, work, and the structure of the family, men were encouraged to be more attentive, caring, and attuned to their emotions.

This overcorrection against the typical male created what Bly describes as the “soft male.”

“I began to see all over the country a phenomenon that we might call the ‘soft male.’ Sometimes, even today, when I look out at an audience, perhaps half the young males are what I’d call soft. They’re lovely, valuable people. I like them; they’re not interested in harming the earth or starting wars. There’s a gentle attitude toward life in their whole being and style of living. But many of these men are not happy. You quickly notice the lack of energy in them. They are life-preserving but not exactly life-giving. Ironically, you often see these men with strong women who positively radiate energy. Here we have a finely tuned young man, ecologically superior to his father, sympathetic to the whole harmony of the universe, yet he himself has little vitality to offer.”

“Little vitality to offer.” What a line.

The soft male has rejected his distinct contribution to his community, thinking that what people want from him is merely being nice and emotionally aware.

This is genuinely a tragedy.

We’ve encouraged men to neuter their spirit and reject themselves. The performative male is a man peacocking to draw in women by being feminine. The world needs men with vitality to offer, not just emotions to perform.

A violent rebellion against this is what seems to bring about the popular chauvinist figures we see emerging on social media.

I think so many men are leaning conservative because there is no archetype they can resonate with on the radical left (only 25% of men aged 18 to 29 identify as liberal according to a 2024 Brookings analysis.)1 They have been told that they are what’s wrong with the world and need to sit back, shut up, and let everyone else go forward.

Although it’s true that many have been oppressed by the abuse of men, silencing the next generation of men won’t repair that damage and will only create dangerous bitterness.

Jesus was not a soft man in this sense. You don’t crucify soft men. He wept, turned tables, dignified women, shamed hypocrisy, commissioned men, and died for the sin of the world. He was vitality embodied.

#4. The Ditch of Passivity

The last pit is passivity. Passivity is a plague for men my age.

We waste our days on useless amusement, trying to stay out of the way. We don’t know who to be or what to give ourselves to, so we just… scroll. People often mock this or create stereotypes about it, but below the lack of action is a deep ache. The share of men reporting no close friends jumped fivefold between 1990 and 2021, from 3% to 15% .2 It’s easier to waste time online than make progress in real life. It almost seems like some of the world wants men to stay out of the way, and then they’re scolded for not doing anything.

Enter the Wild Man

The wildness of men scares us all, if we’re honest.

It’s too great a risk to encourage men to be wild because all the wild ones seem to be vile.

Perhaps if men found out that they were wild, the whole world would burn down in violence and exploitation.

And so what do we do?

We keep it a secret.

We don’t let men know the kind of effect they could have in their community, the actual change they could bring about in the world.

If they knew, it would go to their heads. If they knew, we’d risk too great a danger flooding in.

It’s better to have a sterilized man than a wild one, we think.

So shame his desire.
Let him parent his kids, but not too much.
Make sure his wife doesn’t think too highly of him, and puts him in his place by regularly demeaning him.
Make sure he’s an idiot in our sitcoms.
Make sure he wastes his energy on cheap digital amusement.
Make sure he’s good and discouraged so he doesn’t do very much.

And if none of that works, tell him to try acting more like a woman.

Keep the lid on Pandora’s box closed, because if you open it, all the evils of the world will fly out.

Robert Bly talks about the need to find the wild man again. We need men who are not prisoners to self-censoring or domesticated by a genderless age. We need men who acknowledge the passion within them and let it drive them into something noble.

Gen Z men are told to stay away from wild men. We are told the wild man is toxic and misogynistic.

What’s toxic is having a whole generation of young men with no cultural vision for what it looks like to be a virtuous man. Men ache to do something with their lives. Things exist in the world because someone made them exist.

We don’t let men know “We need you in the game.”
The truth is none of us know how much better our communities would be if more men were activated into something honorable.

Young men ache for something productive to integrate their energy into.

Surprisingly for the first time in roughly 25 years, young men have surpassed young women in self-reported religiosity, with 42% now saying religion is very important to them, up from 28% just two years ago.3

Jesus was a wild man, a man who channeled his wildness and set forth as a sacrifice for the redemption of the whole world.

You might remember Susan’s famous words in The Chronicles of Narnia when she’s thinking of Aslan: “Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good.”

Perhaps men and their own wildness could redeem just a little part of the world.

Not using their energy for hedonism.
Not suppressing it out of shame.
Not self-censoring into a contemporary cliché.
Not dulled into passivity or going with the flow.

I wrote this poem. It’s a risk for me to put it out there, but it’s one small, wild thing I’m doing this week.

Where have all the wild men gone?

Now everything has become wild and untamed
Chaos has spilled over
Abused women cry out for a wild man
to save them from wild men

Where have the wild men gone?

Mostly into underground caves
shamed for their wanting and strength
forgetting they had any to begin with

Where have all the wild men gone?

Other wild men have risen up
unable to restrain the inner fire
slaves to their hedonic pleasure
the earth is full of transgression

Is there a wild man?

A man of all men
who will rule and reign
and teach men to be men?

Thanks for reading,
Max

I’m in London today.

What a city.

Originally established by the Romans in 43 A.D.

Today I listened to a man share his experience touring Oxford and witnessing the spot where the Anglican saint Thomas Cranmer was burned at the stake for his Protestant beliefs.

He had previously signed a document renouncing his faith to save his life, but at the last moment he took it back. And when the flames came, he thrust the hand that had signed it in first, crying out, “This hand hath offended.”

What a wild story.

Later in the day I was reflecting on this and the idea of sainthood.

“Saint” comes from the Latin sanctus, meaning “holy” or “consecrated.” Becoming like God revealed in Christ Jesus. This is the chief aim of our lives.

The modern enemy to this, my enemy to becoming a saint, is what you might call selfish self-actualization.

Rewind a couple of months. I’m sitting across the table from a mentor. He says to me:

“Max, what do you need development in?”

“I’m not sure. I suppose I was hoping you’d tell me what I should develop.”

I went on to say, “The main angst I mostly feel is, will I live an inconsequential life?”

He looked at me and asked, “Max, you’re familiar with Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, right?”

I nodded yes.

“At the top of that pyramid is ‘self-actualization.’ Most people in history never got to that point, they were too busy just figuring out how to survive. You need to drop down a few levels.

“Go ask a girl out or something.”

So I walked out of the restaurant. I’m giving you the juicy details so you better be thankful for this.

I thought of someone beautiful and that might be fun to go out with, and asked her out.

And you know what she said?

“No.”

HAHA!

Perhaps arrogantly, I wasn’t expecting that.

(Please don’t reach out to me patronizingly empathizing - this isn’t a ‘pick me’ substack…)

Dating is an interesting adventure and the shifts emerging in the modern world of sexuality only make it that much more so.

Here’s a series of sobering facts that hopefully paint some kind of picture of the landscape we’re all living in.

60% of women born in 1960 had married by age 25; today just 4% of women born in 1998 have done so.1

Current predictive models based on existing trends from the Office for National Statistics suggest that only 58% of Gen Z women and 56% of Gen Z men will ever enter a legal marriage by the age of 50.2

Who knows if this trend will come true, but we’re on track to see fewer marriages in Gen Z than any other generation in American history.3

Data scientist Stephen J. Shaw said in a recent interview that when a woman turns 28 and a man turns 30, the percent chance of them ever having children is reduced to 50/50.4

Shaw ascribes this to modern career expectations and competition—if you’re going to provide or accomplish your dreams you better get out there and make a name for yourself, put in those late nights for a couple of years.

Contemporary educational priorities—if you want that job described above it’s going to require some school.

Fun prioritized in the gap years—maybe you decide to do some traveling and go and see a little bit of the world while you’re in your twenties so you don’t get bogged down.

The impending biological markers for women.

Shaw mentions the arrogance of men in thinking that because they have fewer biological restrictions on having children they’re in the clear, when in reality there’s a new group of young men on the come up they will have to compete with.

And lastly, waiting too long to find the right person.

I’m not advocating that forcing yourself into something is the fix, but this certainly seems to be an obstacle for many people: “Is this really the person I’m going to be with? She’s not that interesting.”

What this all means: people are getting married later, fewer people are getting married, and the clock is ticking on whether you will defy the odds on having children when we wait.5

Not only are timelines continuing to shift, but so are the expressions of sexuality.

One in five Gen Z adults identifies as something other than heterosexual.6

Gallup’s longitudinal data demonstrates that LGBTQ+ identification in the United States has nearly tripled since 2012, rising from 3.5% to 9.3% in 2024.7

33% of Gen Z have interacted with an AI as a romantic partner.8

54% of teens first encountered pornography by age 13.9

And on top of all this, Generation Z is the least sexually active young cohort in modern recorded history.10

So, what do we do?

To be honest, I’m not sure, but I do think we need to come to terms with the world we live in.

Certainly there are a variety of anecdotes that seem to defy these trends.

Young adults at Christian schools in the South seem to have it figured out.

I’m not suggesting either that marriage is the solution to the human condition. Certainly people get married and their lives are still miserable, or become even more miserable.

There does seem to be a confusion among Gen Z on how to navigate dating, a frustration of unfulfilled hopes, and less reliable pathways on how to get where they’d like.

And perhaps when reading some of these stats one might feel a sense of angst or dread, like they’ve missed their window, the clock is ticking, and no one is coming for them.

“Gosh, this isn’t how I thought my life would have turned out.”

I think dreams and desires are a beautiful thing that we offer to God.

But in the midst of any unrealized vision in my life, when the gap between who Max Damon is and the self-actualized version I’d like him to be feels the widest, I seem to find the most peace in getting back to receiving a truer calling.

To becoming a saint.

To submit to his vision for life.

To accept ambiguity even as I wrestle through working toward good things.

To be united with God and live a fruitful life for his Kingdom, here on earth as it is in heaven.

In the midst of it all, many of our dreams will become ashes.

And other desires of our hearts are already ordained to come to fruition.

And between those two realities is the mystery of our ability to act.

Both Jesus (Matthew 19:11) and Paul (1 Cor. 7:7) mention that marriage is a gift, singleness is a gift, and neither are arrived at purely by personal decision or willpower. The capacity for them, and the gift of them, is given by God.

It’s a good thing to become a person someone would want to be with. I’m for that. I want to become the best man I possibly can. But I'm going to follow the call of God, even if it means my life will look differently than I would've wanted at another time, not a tyrannical self-actualization.

What other option do you have? What story are you going to live out?

So here’s to the death of that.
To no pity parties.
To accepting reality.
To offering your desires, emotions and all, unto God.
To grieving what you need to
Here’s to acting courageously in the world.
To embracing Christ’s call on your life, full of promised joy, and fruit.
To sainthood.

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This evening I walked home through Times Square.

Beautiful day here in the city, warm breeze, evening orange sun shining on the sides of skyscrapers, spring trees blooming pink and white, all you could ask for in a walk home.

With an established superior at my work, moving toward our destinations, we shared our days, trading ideas, listening to each other’s thoughts. I was lucky to get that time.

And while taking up more than my fair share of the conversation, we began discussing some things I’m reading, some things I’m writing, and some ideas I’m forming.

Sharing for the sake of wanting his opinion, this executive stopped and kindly asked if I’d like some feedback, and he said something along the lines of, “Max, I don’t know if you’ve lived enough life to put that out yet.” Sincerely complimenting me, the seasoned professional said, “You’re a smart man, and some of your ideas are further along than you are, but don’t be a brain on a stick.”

What a great phrase. Brain on a stick.

Growing up, something formed in me to want to be affirmed or recognized as smart.

My childhood was full of fun competition.

Brothers playing basketball in the backyard late at night, one brother inevitably chucking the ball at the other’s face as hard as he could because emotion got the best of him.

Boyhood, playfulness, and energetic competition.

We wanted to be good, we wanted to win.

This competitive spirit found its way into most categories.

I remember in first grade my cousin got bumped up into second grade math while I stayed back with the other measly scholars.

Every year from kindergarten to eigth grade there was a tryout for the spelling bee…couldn’t quite make it.

In high school I think I outwardly carried myself in a way that might’ve given off the impression that I did well in school, but in actuality I never was anything impeccable.

It wasn’t really until college, in a degree I was animated by, that I experienced any kind of affirmation or success.

I love ideas, for whatever reason. I love words being used beautifully to express life-giving ideas in a way that’s enjoyable and helpful to our ordinary lives.

I grew up in youth groups that would quote Tozer saying, “What comes into your mind when you think about God is the most important thing about you.”

I think ideas are important, obviously, because they direct our lives.

What we believe determines who we will become, what we will do, and where we will go. And if that’s the case, then it matters what ideas you grab onto.

For those in our world who have a skillful way of identifying, articulating, and expressing ideas compellingly, there’s a reward for them even if those conceptualization haven’t been well worn.

It appears, for better and for worse, more ideas than ever are able to be expressed in the marketplace with less credibility than ever. But ideas don’t always seem to cost that much.

No one wants to be considered to be unintelligent. We all want to be held in high regard.

But I don’t want to be a man who tries to communicate insightful ideas just for the sake of being regarded as intelligent.

I don’t want to be someone who adds to the noise without any credibility, or a little bit of blood to show for it.

I don’t want to be a brain on a stick.

I want to be a man with a heart, one who puts his deepest beliefs to the true test by being patient and brave enough to live them.

Thanks for reading,
Max

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Prayer is a bit of a boring word on the surface.

Especially if it’s not rightly understood, commonly infused in our minds with a sense moral guilt for not doing it.

Perhaps you think you should pray.

Maybe you don’t think prayer does anything, but when the stakes are high or you find yourself in a situation where life is not going how you would like it to, late at night you may throw some kind of “Hail Mary” into the atmosphere.

Why pray?

I love this anecdote from Eugene Peterson when he had first begun his work as a young pastor.

He visited a young woman in his congregation. She was newly married, in her mid-twenties, had just been hired at a law firm, and found herself in a hospital. The doctors couldn’t quite understand what was going on, but concluded that the cuase behind her illness was likely emotional.

A month went by and he met her at her house.

Peterson, sitting across from her, asked, “Is there anything you want me to do?”

In his own words he writes, “Marilyn hesitated. And then, shyly, ‘Yes. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. Would you teach me to pray?’”

For whatever reason this request is meaningful to me as I think about it: (1) because so few people might ask a question like that, and (2) when you think of the demanded job description of a pastor in the modern world, prayer might barely make the list of what comes first to others minds.

This is sad to me.

Peterson goes on:

“Up until then I had concluded that prayer was not something for which there was much of a market. Wanting to serve my congregation on their terms, I kept my prayers to myself and did what I was asked. Marilyn’s ‘Would you teach me to pray?’ was a breakthrough. I reflected on the irony: the work that I was most equipped for, that I most wanted to do, what most pastors for most of our twenty centuries of working in congregations expected to do and did, was not expected of me. Until Marilyn asked.”

I think we resist prayer, in part, because it can be hard, like any relationship that requires intentional engagement.

But we also shrink it into a task on a list of chores, rather than receive it as an invitation to communion.

Do you feel something like that?

A longing to get in the school of prayer?

When I graduated college I moved into a house with nine guys.

Go back and reread that, please.

Nine.

It was terrible and also meaningfully hilarious (shout out to the Dog House, RIP).

Most of us were either in college, recent graduates, post-grad students, or young professionals (which would be an overstatement).

Outside of the fraternal camaraderie, late-night hangs, goofing around, and laughs, I think an overwhelming spirit of the house that each guy felt was frustration.

Frustration unrelated to the number of dishes no one did, just frustration with our lives.

Perhaps common for young men in the modern world, the frustration that you were not where you wanted to be.

At best, a frustration that is required for all people to go through as they grow toward a goal; at worst, a frustration that life would never be as meaningfully productive as you had hoped.

One evening, in the middle of the worst kind of frustration, wondering where the life I wanted could be found, I was reading John 17 and verse three hit me in the face.

“Now this is eternal life…”

High stakes here. What is Jesus going to say next?

“that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.”

According to Jesus in the book of John, eternal life is knowing God. Knowing God. Knowing God (the repetition isn’t a typo). Knowing God is where life to the full is found.

But what does it mean to know God?

The word translated “know” is the Greek word ginōskōsin, and it is more than intellectual knowledge, though it certainly includes that. It speaks to experiential knowing, to experiencing God in your actual, boots-on-the-ground life. It carries such weight of intimacy that in the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament, it is sometimes used as a sexual euphemism for the union between husband and wife.
Genesis 4:1 says, “Adam knew his wife Eve.” Jesus is not referring to physical sex, obviously, but he is saying a person who knows God has an intimate personal relationship with him.

Jesus is saying that life to the full is found in a holistic, experiential relationship with God, both in our internal spiritual worlds as well as our external, embodied world.

So, all morality aside, the question is, do you want to know God? Do you want to be in an attentive, experiential relationship with him?

Only you get to make that decision. What a dignifying freedom.

If so, you are going to need to know how to pray.

Why?

I love this from Dallas Willard; he says,

“The most adequate description of prayer is simply ‘talking to God about what we are doing together.’”

Talking to God about what we’re doing together.

Are you going to include God in your life? Do you want heaven’s resources at your back?

If so that might change your schedule and the kinds of things you choose to do.

Attentiveness, effort, and incorporation in your everyday life are the beginning. This is a journey that no one can go on for you. This is your adventure … to know God.

You will find great guides along the way if you want.

Begin with Jesus in the Gospels:

• Luke 5:16 - Observe Jesus’s regular rhythm of prayer

• Matthew 6:6 - Notice where real prayer actually happens

• Matthew 6:5–15 - Pay attention to who prayer is really for

• Matthew 7:7–11 - Notice what Jesus assumes about the Father’s posture toward you

• Matthew 18:19–20 - Consider what it means to pray with others

• Luke 11:1–13 - Watch how bold and persistent you are allowed to be

• Luke 18:1–8 - Learn from the widow who refused to give up

• Luke 18:9–14 - Notice whose prayer God actually hears

• John 14:13–14 - Sit with what it means to come to the Father in Jesus’s name

• John 15–17 - Let Jesus’s relationship with the Father shape your own

Practice just being present with God, asking God, inquiring of God, meditating on one characteristic of God, thanking God, enjoying God.

And before you know it, you may just begin to develop a rich, experiential union with the God behind the universe … and who knows how significantly that could affect your one and only life.

Blessings,

Maxwell Clay Damon

You know what’s easier than leading people?

Not leading people.

When I was 24, I was hired to be a young adults pastor and director for an extension site of a university for 18 to 25 year olds.

Leading is hard. It requires having a captivating vision of where to go, an ability to communicate that vision, the resources and a plan to execute it, and appropriately guiding those under your care to get there with you. Real Moses to the Promised Land kind of stuff.

It made me appreciate my leaders more than I ever had before because I had gotten a taste of what they were carrying.

Who is leading you right now? What areas of your life are you required to submit to someone else’s vision?

Submission certainly has its aches and, because of its vantage point, it consistently provides a perspective that can tempt a follower to criticize and grumble.

Do you feel this? Do you feel tempted to criticize your boss, spouse, parent, or pastor?

Jon Tyson, a pastor and author in New York City whom I have the privilege of being under his leadership, has said publicly,

“Honor gives you access to someone else’s anointing.”

Maybe that language is too charismatic for you, but let me spell it out.

You know what will close a leader off from being able to share whatever giftedness they have with you? Criticism.

Anointing, so to speak, could be understood as God’s unique empowerment on a person for a particular role or work. God breathing on their life in a certain sphere that produces a kind of fruitfulness that cannot be forced.

Everyone around you has a giftedness. You have it. You’re chosen to be and do certain things. You are it in a way.

And part of the way for that to flourish is for it to be recognized, appropriately valued, and honored.

I have been around A LOT of church cultures.

Sometimes honor culture can be weird. Almost too hierarchical.

But other times the culture can be so casual that those most deserving of honor, due to their sacrifice and leadership position, are treated so casually that it almost inappropriately diminishes their value.

I think this is a tragedy when we do this. It cheapens the rarity that is in your midst.

You want access to someone’s divine spark? Honor them.

Approach them with humility, gratitude, and honor.

Expect that they might have something that you could learn from.

If you approach someone in a way that communicates that you could learn something from them, almost universally they are willing to share what they know.

I certainly recognize and am very compassionate toward the pain that comes from being hurt by poor leadership and the healing process that follows.

But a poor leader cannot eliminate our celebration of good leadership.

You will stand out if you honor your leaders, even if you are just honoring the position because you cannot respect the person.

Here is a quick practice to help increase your gratitude for the leaders throughout your life.

I began reading the 2,000 year old book Meditations by Marcus Aurelius a couple of months ago, and what surprised me was that he begins it by listing 17 figures from his life whom he thanks and recognizes the exact impact they had on the kind of man he had become.

This prompted me to do a leadership audit of all the leaders in my life who have had an impact on me. The list is long.

My life would be so different if certain individuals had chosen not to build the organizations or communities that I have benefited from, chosen not to care for me, believe in me, teach me, and so on.

So maybe give it a try.

Parents. Teachers. Professors. Pastors. Bosses.

Just start bullet pointing names that come to mind, starting when you were young up to however old you are now. Put a small note next to their name about what they contributed to your life.

Now imagine what your life would be like if they had not done that.

I love the G. K. Chesterton quote: “The way to love anything is to realize that it may be lost.”

Leading is hard.

I’ve had moments of being affected by poor leadership.

But I’ve mostly been blessed by incredible leadership and I don’t want it to go unrecognized, even if it’s just to myself.

The phone’s ringing.
Someone’s calling.
You hear it in the other room.

You might not expect it, but you know that if you answer the call, it has the power to change your life forever.

I have had phone calls about the death of someone special and about the incredible birth of someone new.

Phone calls that have forced me to stay locked in my home, and phone calls that have moved me thousands of miles away.

But what about your calling, like your life’s calling?

Surely you’ve heard this phrase, especially in and around Christian circles.

People often get bogged down in the ambiguity of their “calling.” What can you expect? “WHAT’S MY CALLING?” screamed the recent college graduate.

Maybe the question is less “What’s my calling?” and more “What calls out to me?”

What calls out to you? What draws you? What ignites a spark within you that you wish to fan into flame?

Is it a career?
Is it a cause?
Is it a romance?
Is it a dream of raising children?
Is it a skill?
Or a desire to provide?

If I pick up the ringing sound of this call, or follow this golden thread to its end, what can I expect the mile markers of this journey to look like along the way?

This is where Joseph Campbell is here to help you.

Most of the stories you love, because humanity loves them, take on a universal shape often referred to as the Hero’s Journey.

Hercules.
Harry Potter.
The Lord of the Rings.
Rudy.
The Lion King.

You name it.

Joseph Campbell was one of the seminal scholars on myth in his time. His books even famously shaped the way George Lucas built the story of Star Wars.

And all the hero’s journeys in these stories, even your story, begin with an ache.

This is when “the familiar horizon has been outgrown; the old concepts, ideals, and emotional patterns no longer fit; the time for the passing of the threshold is at hand.”¹

The old ways of being are no longer working. There’s boredom. There’s inner anger at the reality of, “There’s got to be something more?!”

This can be true of something as primal as a preadolescent beginning puberty, where your old navigational system is no longer a trustworthy guide for the present.

Something as cultural as the ache of Jim Crow laws, which later gave birth to the Civil Rights Movement.

Or a young man leaving his parents, whom he looked to for security, to join with a woman in marriage and learn a new way of responsibility.

Insert whatever kind of common issue humans face, or whatever issue you might be facing.

This dark lostness is sometimes referred to in Christianity as the dark night of the soul.

A lostness that somehow leads to a beckoning call into greater maturity.

The phone rings. Something’s calling you deeper.

Now begins the adventure.

“Destiny has summoned the hero and transferred his spiritual center of gravity… to a zone unknown.”²

Adventure sounds nice, but in real life it’s answering a call and walking straight into the unknown, the dark woods where you can’t see a path. You’ve heard stories about monsters in these woods, but also whispers of a treasure worth finding.

Was this a call you should’ve picked up, or let go to voicemail? Are all calls worth answering?

That’s part of the great adventure of being human. You will wear the scars or crowns of the callings you listen to, and the callings you refuse.

There are many calls to life, many passages to walk through.

Calls to leave.
Calls to risk loving.
Calls to self-control.
Calls to craftsmanship.
Calls to provision.
Calls to sacrifice.
Calls to die well.
And so on.

All societies know this.

That’s why myths have existed: a shared story birthed out of the dreaming subconscious and put onto paper that is somehow general and entertaining enough to unify a group and provide lessons for them to develop.

All societies love this, if they’re told well. Maybe that’s why adults are still dressing up in Harry Potter costumes.

DEPARTURE: death of your former way of being.
INITIATION: being reborn into a higher version of yourself through the wilderness, trials, and the testing.
RETURN: bringing back to the community the treasure the hero or heroine has gained.

What aches do you sense right now?

Maybe if you quieted down long enough, listened long enough, you might hear a call. And maybe a pathway will emerge into a dark wood, beckoning you to take one step at a time.

This model, in many ways, resembles the life and call of Jesus.

He’s baptized, and “at once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness”.
- Mark 1:12–13 (NIV)

He invites others onto the journey not far behind him: “Come, follow me,”…“at once they left their nets and followed him.”
- Matthew 4:19–20 (NIV)

And once you step over that line, you should refuse the call: “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for service in the kingdom of God.”
- Luke 9:62 (NIV)

This isn’t mere self-improvement. It’s a new kind of life: “no one can see the kingdom of God unless they are born again.”
- John 3:3 (NIV)

And after this his disciples are sent out into the world to share The Way that they’ve have encountered: “As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”
- John 20:21 (NIV)

Most modern people think of myths as stories that aren’t true.

Campbell thought myth to be a metaphor for human life, birthed out of the subconscious. He defined myth as “psychology misread as biography, history, and cosmology.”³

So it may not have happened, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t helpful and, in many ways, more “true” than a nonfiction retelling of history, in the sense that it speaks more universally to all of humanity.

Myths, in real time, are meant to be enjoyed and tasted, infiltrating the imagination, not analyzed in the moment. The analysis doesn’t come until after.

Campbell also thought Jesus was one myth among others, and he’s certainly qualified and entitled to his opinion.

But I have chosen to take C.S. Lewis’s position (which I believe there is significant evidence for): that the story of Jesus is the “great myth that became fact.”⁴

“To be truly Christian we must both assent to the historical fact and also receive the myth (fact though it has become) with the same imaginative embrace which we accord to all myths. The one is hardly more necessary than the other. A man who disbelieved the Christian story as fact but continually fed on its myth would perhaps be more spiritually alive than one who assented and did not think much about it… We must not be ashamed of the mythical radiance resting on our theology. We must not be nervous about ‘parallels’ and ‘pagan christs’; they ought to be there. It would be a stumbling block if they weren’t. We must not, in false spirituality, withhold our imaginative welcome… This is the marriage of heaven and earth, perfect myth and perfect fact.”⁵

This is maybe why it’s okay to tell your kids about Santa, but that’s perhaps a Substack for another time. ;)

I pray you listen to the great callings on your life.
I pray you pick up the call that leads you into a great adventure, a dark wood, with monsters that you have to fight off, and bring back something to bless your community.
I pray you choose to listen to compelling callings that are as unique as you are.
But my ultimate prayer is that you might hear the grandest human calling of them all.

In the words of Os Guinness…

“Have you concluded that your desire for purpose is an illusion? Then follow the Eastern masters to their various states of detachment. Have you determined that your purpose is something you must figure out yourself and accomplish all on your own?
There are many secularist thinkers to cheer you on in the attempt. Or are you open to the possibility that there is one who created you to be who you are and calls you to be who he alone knows you can be? Then listen to Jesus of Nazareth and his two words that changed the world -”Follow me.”⁶

Maxwell Clay Damon

Footnotes

1. Joseph Campbell, The Hero with a Thousand Faces (New York: Pantheon Books, 1949), 86.

2. Ibid., 94.

3. Ibid., 359.

4. C. S. Lewis, “Myth Became Fact,” in God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics, ed. Walter Hooper (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1970), PDF.

5. Ibid.

6. Os Guinness, The Call: Finding and Fulfilling God’s Purpose for Your Life (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1997), 22.

Scott Galloway, a professor at NYU, has said: “Women are attracted, generally speaking, the research shows, to men based on three reasons. The third is kindness. They want someone who’s going to be a good person. They’re impressed by men who are good to their parents, and kind, and go out of their way to help people, and there’s no reciprocal expectation. The second is intelligence because, the smarter you are, the more likely you are to make good decisions and protect your families’ offspring. And, by the way, the fastest way to communicate intelligence is humor. I’ve always said, if you can make a woman laugh, you can kiss her. And then, the most important thing to women, and people don’t like to admit this, is the man’s ability to signal future resources. It’s not even that he has to be rich now, but he has to have his act together such that he looks like he will be a decent provider.”

Does this evoke any kind of emotion in you?

Maybe you’re a man thinking, “Gosh, I don’t feel adequate enough to be able to portray this, whether it’s true of me or not.”

Or maybe you’re a woman thinking, “I’m not seeing too many guys exude this.”

Or maybe you’re in a great relationship like, “Lay off, Max. This doesn’t apply to me.”

The reason I mention the above is because, whether we like it or not, the social cues we give off can have immense implications.

Certainly, character is part of the substance above, but is that character being adequately communicated?

Charisma helps in life, whether we like to think it does or not.

I’m not mainly even speaking of charisma in the romantic sense, just in the sense of the ability to make others feel a pleasantness when they’re around you.

Who is the most charismatic person you know?
Who is the person that has a kind of magnetism that draws you in, and when you leave being around them, you’re grateful for the time?

Do you wish you had some of that tactfulness in social scenarios?
Does it feel manipulative or gross to even consider a question like this?

Do you wait for great things to happen to you, or do you feel a responsibility to have an effect on your surroundings?

Olivia Fox, in her book The Charisma Myth, approaches the subject scientifically, breaking this kind of behavior into three core elements: presence, power, and warmth.

PRESENCE: Being attentive to the person or people in front of you.

If you’ve seen the documentary The Last Dance about Michael Jordan and the 1997–98 Bulls, you’ll remember reporter Mark Vancil saying, “Most people struggle to be present… most people live in fear because we project the past into the future. Michael’s a mystic. His gift was not that he could jump high, run fast, shoot a basketball. His gift was that he was completely present, and that was the separator.”

Presence is being in the moment, carefully engaged to what’s in front, giving your whole self to the situation.

POWER: This is the ability to give off the impression that you have the competency and confidence to change the things around you.

If you don’t give off the impression that you trust yourself, why would others feel comfortable trusting themselves to you? Yikes.

WARMTH: A sense that you care and are compassionate. You know these people. Some people are so good at this that, when you’re around them, you just kind of melt into their hands and want to share your whole life with them because they appear to be empathetic toward you.

Here’s the difficulty I sometimes feel about all of this.

When I was in some of my early coming-of-age years, in the field that I was generally interested in, many of the figures I held in high regard were some of the most charismatic leaders I had ever come across.

And then, a few of them had public moral failings that were incongruous to the public ethic that they held.

It was hard for me to make sense of this. I felt like these people were hypocrites and guilty of using their charisma to be manipulative.

In many ways, I think I threw some of the baby out with the bath water.

Get rid of charisma. It all needs to be content and character, given in a robotic delivery.

Charisma had become this weird internal tug of war between authenticity, manipulation, and a social tool.

This week, I felt like I had a breakthrough when reading about Viktor Frankl.

Frankl was a Jewish determinist psychiatrist, essentially believing that whatever happened to you as a kid, mixed with your genetics, has determined the kind of future you will have. The internal script is that you don’t have much choice. We’re all dealt certain cards, and the game you will play has already been decided.

During WWII, he was imprisoned in the Nazi concentration camps. His parents, brother, and wife all died.

One of his great insights in the midst of this horrific suffering, which he called “the last of the human freedoms,” was his ability to respond to his environment. This is largely what kept him sane in the midst of the Holocaust.

The Nazis could control so much of his life, his environment, his family, his body, but they could not control how he would respond.

As Steven Covey puts it, “Between stimulus and response, man has the freedom to choose.”

So, what does this have to do with charisma?

Look, much of your social environment is outside of your control. Your workplace, your home, your school, your church. You’re just walking into it.

But you have full agency on how you will respond to it.

Too often, I am guilty of waiting for something great to happen to me instead of taking initiative toward others. To intentionally leave a positive impression out of goodwill toward others.

This week, after reading this about Frankl, I was walking by the waiting room of the office of my workplace, and there was someone sitting in it.

Oftentimes, I might wait for someone to initiate conversation with me, or just walk by hoping not to be noticed, but I decided, “Look, I’m going to recognize this person by giving them my attention, even if it’s just for a moment, and show them value.”

What a hero.

Obviously this is small but some of the major relational shifts in my life have come from an almost serendipitous moment of choosing to be intentionally focused on others.

After the encounter in the waiting room I think they genuinely felt valued.

One final story.

Many business owners that I’ve been around exude a kind of energetic charisma.

I hesitate to mention this because I’ve already mentioned this person in past writing, but I’ve only got one life and so many stories.

My father is an orthodontist and business owner. Growing up, all the time I would hear people, or buddies on my baseball team, say to me, “Dude, whenever I leave your dad’s office, he always makes me feel great.”

When we were really little, and all my siblings were still playing with blocks and toys in the living room, he would sometimes come home and just lay on the floor to still be present with us, after a 12-hour day of intentionally choosing to be kindly enthusiastic toward patients.

It made me admire my dad’s leadership.

The two downfalls I think we mistakenly make regarding charisma are that we think it’s either manipulative, which certainly it can be a tool for selfish purposes, or that we think we don’t have the secret gene, and we pout around and hope someone will initiate kindness toward us.

No one’s coming for you (maybe they are… I just wanted to sound dramatic). But you have incredible agency to bring something great into every social situation. Take on the challenge. Be a blessing.

Bless people by being totally present when you’re around them.
Bless people by being competent.
Bless people by being compassionate toward them.

The world needs your unique charisma.

Maxwell Clay Damon

“The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation,” said Henry David Thoreau.

Deep within our spirits, perhaps you long for a kind of life that’s different than the one you are living now, better, richer, more fruitful, deeper, more joyful.

But much of our lives are set to autopilot, and every now and again our minds and hearts might be pricked by a kind of self-improvement, self-help practice that might enrich it.

For me, this typically finds its way into my mind through Instagram: read this, work out this way, start this business, eat this, think this way. Whatever.

All to numb or fix desperation with distraction.

I love thinking of ways to enrich my life, but this passive, haphazard pulling of my attention splinters my will into ten different directions. What exactly am I trying to achieve with my life through all this? It is not all bad. It’s just divided.

Each of us is driven by some conscious or unconscious story that we believe is the best life available to us. What story are you living? What do you believe is the good life? When will you have attained it? How do you attain it?

What are you beholding?

Søren Kierkegaard said, “Purity of heart is to will one thing.”

So what’s in your heart? At the end of your life, what do you want to be said about you?

I think I have mostly come to peace with my creed. My genuine conviction, and I hope not tritely so, is to become like Christ, to embody him in my unique everyday life, moment by moment, encounter by encounter, effort by effort, good work by good work.

I put so many qualifiers because I think evangelicals, a tradition I am a part of, can talk about Christlikeness so casually. The claim above is essentially to become like the most compelling, most loving, most sacrificial person to ever live, and at times it can be an afterthought, like it is some side project that I’ll easily slap onto my life.

I’m often amazed at the amount of internal and external attention I give to things other than the story of Jesus.

There are many days I spend more time passively consuming media than I do in the Gospels.

Scripture in more ways than one suggests a different way.

John the Baptizer said, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.”

Pilate mockingly spoke words truer than he knew in the moment: “Behold the man!”

The apostle Paul said, “And we all, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”

Each time carrying the idea of taking notice, sustained attention, deliberate contemplation.

I think if we are honest about the competing narratives wisping into our minds, tempting us to give attention and energy to them on top of all our day-to-day responsibilities, we may look up and realize how little attention we have given to being caught up and inspired by the person of Jesus.

The Man of all men. The Human of all humanity. The archetypal man who only had three public years of life, and yet I am writing a Substack about him.

A life that’s marked by both obscurity and insurmountable fame, power and sacrifice, strength and service, leadership and submission. A life marked by scandalous courage, love, healing, capital punishment, and a rumored resurrection, followed by a two-thousand-year revolution still remaking nations.

I am sad that this has become dull and trivial in my mind at times.

Maybe you don’t believe that Jesus is who he said he was, but nonetheless it is worth thinking about the model you are looking to shape your life after.

Here is what I am after: sustained attention to the person of Jesus Christ.

There has been enough written on the idea that what you pay attention to is what shapes your life, who you become, and the direction you go, becoming like what you behold.

So to end, here’s one of my favorite poems, Love III by George Herbert.

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lack’d anything.

‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’
Love said, ‘You shall be he.’
‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.’
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
‘Who made the eyes but I?’

‘Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.’
‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘Who bore the blame?’
‘My dear, then I will serve.’
‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’
So I did sit and eat.

Don’t rush off. Sit and eat. Feast. Savor. Behold the Son of Man.

Let your desperation move you into taking Jesus seriously.

If we intend to become like Christ, we must give him our attention.

God is kind. He gives help to those who ask.

Maxwell Clay Damon

August 9, 1974, President Richard Nixon resigned from office, the only American president to ever do so.

This followed Watergate, the infamous scandal in which members of his reelection campaign engaged in illegal actions and the president obstructed justice to cover it up.

Following the investigation into this historic moment in American history, transcripts were released of President Nixon using foul language, swearing, and making racially derogatory comments. As a result, the American public felt dumbfounded, as if they had been tricked. The nation was disturbed as it tried to comprehend a man in public office living a private life marked by immorality that seemed inconsistent with the dignity of the presidency.

This almost seems like child’s play in 2026. Watergate happens once a month, it feels like.

Reflecting on this, my initial, perhaps arrogant response to that reaction, which is certainly shaped by the times we now live in, is:

Grow up.
Read a book.
Of course political leaders act like this.

Nowadays, we read about the potential of presidents visiting child sex slave islands.

But I can understand why people felt the way they did.

The presidential office was once viewed with a kind of sacred reverence. “Of course our presidents don’t swear.” “That’s unbecoming of the position. Or maybe he does, but it wouldn’t be anything unbelievable.”

When FDR died in 1945, people lined up all across the country just to salute, cry, and catch a glimpse of the train carrying his body. Respect, dignity, reverence. This is how the office was once viewed.

Now there is a fearful disillusionment that has plagued everyone’s perception, a kind of expectant, tired cynicism. I think it comes from a collective resolve to never be tricked again.

“If our president is going to swear crassly, he better do it in front of us from the podium.”

And you know what? That’s what we have.

The painful blow of hypocrisy has resulted in a public that never wants to be deceived.

But what does this have to do with authenticity?

In the wake of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, Gen Z appears to hold authenticity as a primary value, perhaps as a response to the disillusioning exposure of hypocrisy and a lack of integrity.

In a 2023 survey of 2,000 people ages 13 to 24, 51 percent said yes when asked, “Have you ever felt held back from being able to authentically express who you are?”

In another survey of 990 teens and young adults ages 13 to 24, respondents were asked what had caused them to feel held back from expressing their identity. They could select all that applied.

Among Gen Z respondents, 51 percent said that they themselves were the primary reason they felt held back from authentically expressing who they are.

I bring this up because there appears to be a deep internal struggle among Gen Z around fundamental questions of identity.

Who am I?
How do I determine that?
How can I be sincere and authentic?

There is a growing demand that whatever exists within a person must be lived out publicly, and that anything less would be a violation of integrity. In this framework, inner expression becomes the primary determinant of identity.

In many ways, this appears to be a well-meaning response to hypocrisy among leaders. People feel disillusioned and deceived, and the resulting demand is that a person would act the same way in every sphere of life.

But this raises an unavoidable question. What, then, is truly real? Where does identity begin, with actions, beliefs, or inner stirrings?

The typical way of forming identity in traditional cultures involved conforming the individual to an outer reality.

The modern approach is the opposite, with the outer world accommodating the individual.

The historian Carl Truman, in his book Strange New World, a summary of his larger work The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self, writes, “The modern self assumes the authority of inner feelings and sees authenticity as defined by the ability to give social expression to the same.”

In other words, the modern self assumes that the most real or true thing about a person lies hidden within them, and that the outer world must change to align with the expression of that inner reality.

The gospel of authenticity teaches that eternal life is found in expressing the inward urges you attach to.

If this is the case, that life to the full is found through obedience to inner impulse, what inward forces do we listen to?

As Andy Bernard from The Office puts it, “Which self am I going to be today? I’ve got a closet full of me’s.”

Your kid nervously looks to you for advice on their first day of school, and you respond with a well-meaning, “Just be you.”

Who are you? Which version of you is that?

Will you be the you that’s cranky when you first wake up?
The you that’s fun when you have exciting things to do?
The you before, during, or after puberty?
The you that’s anxious when social circumstances are scary?

What if you have a moment of desire for something that you consider to be immoral? Should you obey that?

To use a contemporary cultural example of the evolving nature of inner desire, JoJo Siwa rose to fame as a child star whose brightly branded persona was later amplified through Nickelodeon, reaching millions and now totaling roughly 11 million followers on Instagram.

As she entered adulthood, she publicly came out and began intentionally reshaping her identity and artistic direction, at one point telling Billboard she wanted to “start a new genre of music” she called “gay pop.” In the years that followed, she described her sexuality in evolving terms, first identifying as pansexual, later saying she was not attracted to men, and then identifying as lesbian. During this same period, she was named to Time’s list of the 100 Most Influential People in 2020 and again in 2021, and appeared on Fast Company’s Queer 50 list.

Most recently, she has spoken openly about being in a relationship with a man and has expressed a desire to become a mother and start a family.

I do not mention this to make fun. I feel a lot of compassion for her, to be honest. What a whirlwind it must be to grow up with a fixed television persona.

I want to deal compassionately with the individual and violently with the ideology.

I am angry at an ideology that has deceived a generation into forfeiting their God-given destiny.

Authenticity cannot be the primary measure by which we call something good.

Hitler was authentic, a very sincere man, but a person can be sincerely wrong.

What people truly long for is integrity and goodness, but we are increasingly unsure of how to attain them or where to find them.

What is at stake now is the deception of a generation about how identity is formed and how a sturdy, virtuous life is carried out. There has been an ideological assault on young people’s sense of self, resulting in the two most anxious and depressed generations in recorded history, Gen Z and Gen Alpha.

I believe the gospel and Jesus’ way of life offer a nuanced response to these deceptive ideas in three primary ways.

Bestowal:
We have created relatively little in our lives. Most of what defines us has been given. You did not choose to be born, where you would be born, your genetics, your sex, your family, or even your name. All of it was received.

By contrast, one of the psychological and cultural lies we face is the pressure to invent entirely new categories of identity.

The grand project of Christ was to reconcile humanity back to God and to make us sons and daughters in relationship with Him. The gospel bestows a secure identity of being a child of God. The first call of a human being is to receive reality as God has named it. We all need someone to speak goodness, truth, identity, over your life.

What a relief.

“But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.”

John 1:12–13

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God.”

1 John 3:1

Integration:
One tragedy of rigorously moral cultures with a stringent commitment to truth is the failure to acknowledge particularity, what makes a person unique, along with the reality of individual human feeling. Life is complex and confusing and needs to be worked out with compassion.

The way of Christ does not call for the repression or denial of emotion and individuality, but invites their integration into our God-given identity, producing a community that is both beautifully diverse and deeply unified.

“All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you.”

Psalm 38:9

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Matthew 11:28–30

“For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith.”

Romans 12:4–6

Upward Standard:
Much of what we often call authenticity is simply life without restraint, a person governed by impulse. The way of Jesus calls humanity into a demanding and beautiful life of sacrificial love, a standard I would never invent on my own and could never reach without being both held to it and empowered by grace.

C.S. Lewis wrote about this beautifully:

”The more we get what we now call ‘ourselves’ out of the way and let Him take us over, the more truly ourselves we become. There is so much of Him that millions and millions of [Christians], all different, will still be too few to express Him fully. He made them all. He invented as an author invents characters in a novel — all the different men that you and I were intended to be. In that sense our real selves are all waiting for us in Him. It is no good trying to ‘be myself without Him. The more I resist Him and try to live on my own, the more I become dominated by my own genetics and upbringing and surroundings and natural desires... I am not, in my natural state, nearly so much of a person as I like to believe: most of what I call ‘me’ can be very easily explained. It is when I turn to Christ, when I give myself up to His Personality, that I first begin to have a real personality of my own.”

“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Matthew 16:24

Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.

Romans 13:14

The great bet of our lives is who or what we will put our faith in. My prayer is that, as we pursue what is true, God would draw near to us and bestow secure, clear identities for us to live into.

Thanks for reading.

Maxwell Clay Damon

I cried the other day in front of someone I look up to. I was discouraged. It was embarrassing. I felt ashamed and weak.

It was probably awkward for this person as well, but he said two things I don’t think I’ll forget.

“Boys look down when they cry. Men look up.”

In other words, take it in. Embrace it. Choose it, even. When you cry, not to draw attention to yourself, bravely accept it for what it is.

And he ended by sharing a short line: “Live to the point of tears.”

Live with belief and devotion and earnestness to the point it touches your heart. Not just cruising through life, live to the point of tears.

____

I talk to a lot of people in their 20s because… I’m in my 20s, and I get to listen to the common struggles that are particular to this age demographic and to people early on in their professional careers.

I’m not a fan of making the essence of your identity victimhood, but I think we’ve underplayed the effect the last five years has had on many people’s psyches. Covid, BLM, any kind of activism, the volatility of the last three elections. It’s been frustrating regardless of your convictions regarding it all.

I think many people feel robbed of opportunity, of their potential, of what could’ve been, or of how they were hindered, particularly young people.

Some of the interior troubledness seems to come from the sense that you might be capable of more, and you hope it’s something great. You hope something calls all of yourself into a meaningful contribution. I think to deny this would be false humility. Would you want to spend your life on something trivial and inconsequential?

For many Gen Z-ers, you have enough experience to maybe have an inkling of what you could be good at, but not enough experience to be good at it.

You’re self-aware enough to maybe see your lane, but also self-aware enough to see how little down the road you’ve actually gone.

You’re honored and grateful to be in the room, but it’s the scrappy, unimpressive work that gets you in the room.

You’re confronted with entitlement, maybe tempted by self-pity, insecurity, ambition, an ache that borders between egotism and wanting to be excellent. You would never say it out loud, but you hope to do something important with your life.

____

I usually enjoy movie origin stories far more than what follows. I want to see how Iron Man built his suit in a cave and escaped Afghanistan, not 500 superheroes fight a purple guy with colorful rocks on his fist.

This last week, I watched Rocky (1976).

Rocky is thought of as a loser. I love stories about losers.

He fights washed-up fighters on weekends. He collects money for a sketchy loan shark. He wanders around a depressed Philadelphia. He gets kicked out of his gym because he’s thought of as an old head who wasted his potential, and the community treats him as a kind of “bum,” someone who’s had no luck or missed his chance.

Internal discouragement, disdain from others, condescension, doubt, fear, despair. These are the enemies he’s up against.

His character is genuine because no one would really care how he acted anyway. He has nothing to fake for advantage.

I like Rocky I better than Rocky III because he’s “made it” in Rocky III. In Rocky III, the enemies he faces are apathy and fear of losing what he’s won.

Reflecting on some of these things, 1 Peter 5:5–6 came to mind:

“All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because,

‘God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.’

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time.”

I don’t want to be proud. I don’t want heaven resisting my life because I’m entitled to something I have no right to.

I don’t want to look back on challenging scenarios and only see complaints instead of gratefulness in the midst of hardship.

I want to humbly embrace the kind of life God has given me while pressing on toward whatever it is I’ve been called to.

There’s something great about the “days of small beginnings” (Zechariah 4:10). Those are the days you look back on with a silly joy and delight and say, “Remember when we were doing THAT!”

We all long for the peaks. That’s great. I want the peaks. I want to win. But the pits are where you’re challenged and given the option to grow or quit.

Even after what I’ve considered to be wins in my life, I’ll sometimes miss certain days when I felt like a loser, because those are the days you’re really fighting (pun intended). Those are the days you’re longing, praying, seeking God, being confronted with your inadequacy, and either giving up or growing up.

Don’t despise your Rocky days, because the truth is, you might get to your version of Rocky III. And ironically, he has to get back to his humble beginnings to win again.

Maybe you can’t relate to this, but it’s been my experience that most people, regardless of their achievements, feel something like this. The people you think have made it still often feel like they’re viewed differently than how they view themselves. Not appreciated enough. Not believed in enough. Not really evaluated accurately for what they are capable of.

I want to accept the Rocky days gratefully, because there’s a sweetness to obscurity, knowing God sees you, knowing God loves the “losers,” and knowing that God gives grace to the humble and, in due time, will lift them up.

Accept it. Embrace the joyful challenge. Don’t look down when you cry. Live to the point of tears.

Maxwell Clay Damon

In the film Chariots of Fire, Olympic sprinter Harold M. Abrahams is preparing to run the 100-meter dash at the 1924 Games. Speaking to his friend Aubrey, whom he regards as a content man, he confesses something beyond nerves.

“I’m 24 and I’ve never known it,” Abrahams says. “I’m forever in pursuit, and I don’t even know what it is I’m chasing. In one hour’s time I’ll be out there again. I’ll raise my eyes and look down that corridor, with ten lonely seconds to justify my whole existence. But will I?”

What Abrahams names in that moment is not ambition, but a far deeper human ache: the need to justify one’s existence.

Or, as Tim Keller once defined justification, it is the search for “a validating performance record that opens doors.”

I am an Enneagram Three, the Achiever. If you are not familiar, the Enneagram is a popular personality framework that attempts to identify the primary motivation beneath a person’s behavior.

1 - The Perfectionist
2 - The Helper
3 - The Achiever
4 - The Individualist
5 - The Investigator
6 - The Loyalist
7 - The Enthusiast
8 - The Challenger
9 - The Peacemaker

It’s become increasingly popular in Christian circles, almost to the point of becoming a trope or cliché to make fun of.

There seems to be a subgroup of individuals who claim this has occult origins stemming from pagan roots.

Ironically, Catholic Christians in the 1970s first used the Enneagram not as a way to reveal a modern superpower, but as a tool to unveil your primary fatal flaw.

Clinical psychologist David G. Benner describes it this way in The Gift of Being Yourself: “The assumption behind the Enneagram is that underlying everything we do is one major temptation that is particular to us. And until we see it for what it is, we will inevitably give in to this temptation and live in bondage.”

1 - The Perfectionist: desires perfection but might be deceived into thinking they themselves can be perfect and that things around them can be as well.

2 - The Helper: desires to be loved and useful but may be deceived into a need to be needed, resulting either in pride or enmeshment with another.

3 - The Achiever: desires to be successful but may be deceived into believing their accomplishments or image justify their lives.

4 - The Individualist: desires to be special but may be tempted into envy, escapism, or propping one’s own individuality above others.

5 - The Investigator: desires knowledge but may be deceived into believing knowledge alone can keep them ultimately safe.

6 - The Loyalist: desires security but may be deceived into thinking they cannot act without the assured devotion of others.

7 - The Enthusiast: desires comfort but may be deceived into thinking life isn’t worth living unless there is a kind of sensational pleasure, either bodily or emotionally, to bear the weight of life.

8 - The Challenger: desires power but may be deceived into thinking they must be top dog and can’t trust those around them.

9 - The Peacemaker: desires peace but may be deceived into living a life of constant people-pleasing in order to secure this.

The idea is not that our core desires are evil. They’re human needs. But when listened to wrongly, they form a false self, a mask we wear, believing it will lead us into life when, in fact, it slowly enslaves us.

The Achiever lives in me strongly.

I feel the weight of needing to justify my life.

Will I live a life of enough consequence?
Will I really make it count?
What contribution will I make with my life, large or small?
How much of mankind will it affect?
How significantly will it affect them?

If this is hubris, what is the alternative?
Mediocrity?
Going with the flow?
Keeping your head down so you do not disturb the peace or look arrogant?

If the left side of the Achiever’s ditch is apathy and cowardice, what’s the right side? If one danger is refusing the challenge of life altogether, the other is trying to justify existence through achievement alone.

But that raises a deeper question.

What is the standard I am actually trying to meet?

My own?
My family’s?
The voice of someone who doubted me when I was young?
My community’s?
Society’s?
God’s?

Much of the time, we do not consciously choose a standard. We’re often driven by something we’re unaware of. Perhaps what we fear most.

But if you try to lay out your aim before you, putting at the top what’s most important, it quickly becomes clear that you cannot avoid the question of authority.

Let’s say…

You don’t believe in God. There is no objective verdict that can finally declare a life right. So you’re left with an unadmitted nihilism that you keep hidden in the basement of your ethics. The burden of justification rests on whatever the individual says it is.

If you believe in a moral God, the logic shifts, but the pressure remains similar. God becomes a judge, life becomes a scale, and righteousness becomes something accumulated. Do enough good. Offset enough failure. Hope the balance holds when you meet him.

And to be honest, many Christians either believe this or slip back into it if not attentive.

I am not trying to caricature anyone here. I am describing the logic maybe many of us live by. Regardless of our stated beliefs, we tend to drift toward the same assumption.

But those who knew Jesus seemed to believe in a fundamentally different way of being, one that offered a final answer to the heart’s endless scavenging for acceptance.

Something that is much more counterintuitive.

It is written about most clearly in the biblical Letter to the Romans.

The theologian Leon Morris once said that this section of Romans may be “the most important single paragraph ever written.”

“This righteousness is given through faith in Jesus Christ to all who believe… for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God, and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. God presented Christ as a sacrifice of atonement, through the shedding of his blood, to be received by faith.” Romans 3:21–26 (abridged)

The words Paul uses for justification and righteousness have the same Greek root word.

Justification / justify – to be declared right
Righteousness – the status of being right before God.

Justification is not the process of becoming morally impressive.

Paul actually says God “justifies the ungodly” in Romans 4:5.

This righteousness before God is not achieved through effort. It is received through trusting in someone else whose life was able to make up for my insufficiency, and whose death involved a crushing for all of humanity’s rebellion and evil.

Not career achievements.
Not a marriage.
Not children.
Not money.
Not impact.
Not morality.
Not productivity.

They are no longer one’s righteousness. They are no longer used for justification.
They can now just be those things. Achievements can just be achievements, not a résumé before the cosmos.

What qualifies someone is dependence on the person of Christ.

Sometimes this feels more like dogma than an experiential reality, but the person of Jesus has yet to fail me, and in faith, as a response to what’s been revealed, I’m choosing this to be the foundation of how I live.

As I look ahead at my life, still tempted to treat my work and contribution as the final verdict on my existence, and still not fully transformed by this truth, I choose to receive the gift I believe Jesus offers and to run the race, motivated by gratitude, joy, and love.

Thanks for reading,

Maxwell Clay Damon

“What we feel and think is to a very large degree a matter of choice in competent adult persons, who will be very careful about what they allow their minds to dwell upon or what they allow themselves to feel. This is crucial to the practical methods of spiritual formation.”

— Dallas Willard, Renovation of the Heart

It’s 5 AM.

Your alarm clock goes off.

A wave of anxiety enters your soul as that once-peaceful alarm sound you chose has now turned into a screech of the devil.

Your eyes barely open, so you use the blue light of your phone to wake yourself up more quickly.

Life hack… but probably terrible for you.

Your thumb finds its way to Instagram, where you slow-roast your brain in a dopamine overflow.

Beautiful.

You don’t hate the day that’s in front of you, but maybe you’ve stripped it down to mere pragmatism.

You picture what must be done, and your body responds with fear and stress before you’ve even begun.

I need to eat something, get dressed (no, I look like an idiot), change, wake the kids up maybe, get them dressed, drive here, send the emails, go to the meeting, complete the tasks that came out of that meeting, drink this, walk there, lift this, come home, play, sleep, and do it all again.

The adult imagination.

Why do we imagine our days and lives in such a dull way?
Why do we mostly use our imagination to rehearse the things that could go wrong in our lives, but fail to imagine what could be good and beautiful?

Are you allowed to like your day?

The imagination is not neutral. It is already at work before we say our first prayer or drink our first cup of coffee. It quietly interprets reality for us, telling us what kind of day this will be and what kind of life we are living.

I think most of us enjoy many things about our lives. But maybe we live with our heads down in robotic autopilot. Maybe we live too much of our lives in the black-and-white world of Dorothy’s Kansas, when potentially we could live with hearts alive in the colorful world of OZ.

One of the best men I know once shared with me that, as part of his morning routine, or even when the day starts to wear him down, he will look at beautiful images of architecture, nature, or interior design, the kind you see in Architectural Digest.

He’ll look at them, pause, and with gratitude just imagine he’s there, and that someone comes up to him and says something like, “Hey man, the place is yours, you can stay here as long as you want.”

I love this.

When I first heard it, I tried implementing it into one of my mornings. I paused, looked at a beautiful image, and imagined myself there, unhurried and welcomed. What surprised me was how physical the effect was. My body calmed down. My breathing slowed. I felt inspired. I remember thinking, this is amazing. That morning felt different than the others. Lighter. More enjoyable.

Later that week, I ended up reading some info on cognitive neuroscience (as we all do), and interestingly, research shows that vivid mental imagery activates many of the same neural networks as real action.

In other words, when you imagine yourself somewhere or doing something, your brain fires in remarkably similar ways as if you were actually there.

I just saved you tons of money on Airbnbs and vacations.

This means you can literally change the chemicals being released in your body by taking thirty seconds to imagine something well.

You already know this.

If you picture an upcoming date with someone you’re interested in, you might feel nervous. If you think about a looming work deadline, stress and dread might kick in. If you imagine an exciting trip, you feel anticipation and joy. The imagination is already shaping our inner worlds. The only question is whether we are paying attention to what it is shaping us into.

Long before modern neuroscience, the Christian tradition understood that what we consistently attend to forms our loves, our fears, and our sense of reality.

There is a historic practice called Visio Divina, Latin for “divine seeing.”

It’s a practice of prayerfully looking and imagining to train your attention toward God’s presence and goodness in everyday life.

This isn’t used to escape reality for a moment and give you a feel-good shot so you have enough strength to white-knuckle your way through your Monday, but to train yourself to recognize God’s presence and goodness in all of life and recognize it throughout the day.

The imagination becomes a doorway to enjoying the goodness and beauty of God, tracing the thread from creation back to Him.

Paul even gives an explicit instruction about this when he writes to the church in Philippi, “Brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable, if anything is excellent or praiseworthy, think about such things.” (Phil. 4:8)

What an interesting command.

Paul does not treat our thought life as passive or accidental. He treats it as something we are responsible for, something that must be intentionally directed toward what is good, beautiful, and true.

So what are you setting your mind on? What are you re-image-ing?

I live five blocks south of Central Park. It sounds romantic, and it is. But even living in such a unique city, I am tempted to reduce my life to its inconveniences. My apartment is small. I am on a one-year lease. I will probably move from this spot. Like many young people who move to New York, I resist hanging things on the walls or buying good furniture. I tell myself I won’t be in this spot long, so what’s the use? I might get married. Why invest now when later will be better?

I do this often. I resist living now because of something that might come later.

But if you live your whole life that way, YOU WON’T HAVE LIVED.

You will never get to live this decade again.
Your kids are going to grow up.
You and your spouse are going to get old.
You’re going to die.

Drink it in.

You owe it to yourself to live beautifully despite whatever ugliness is around you, maybe even as an act of defiance against evil.

To re-inspire your imagination with great things so you see life more beautifully. To be inspired literally means to put spirit back into something. To put your heart back in your chest. To put life back into your life. Nothing’s ordinary.

I like interior design. There, I said it ;) And when I started looking at beautiful pictures, it made me look at my apartment again and think, “How can I make this more enjoyable?”

Growing up, once a year my family would drive from eastern Washington to Flathead Lake in Montana, probably one of the greatest drives you will ever have in your life. But as a kid, even incredible scenery gets boring. So my mom would play The Chronicles of Narnia on tape as we drove.

She only did this a few times. But now, every time I make that drive as an adult, I think of Narnia. I don’t read those stories without thinking of Montana, and I do not think of Montana without thinking of those stories.

It was just a drive. But it was infused with meaning because of, perhaps, an off-the-cuff decision to play an audiobook.

G.K. Chesterton wrote that fairy tales “say that apples were golden only to refresh the forgotten moment when we found that they were green. They make rivers run with wine only to make us remember, for one wild moment, that they run with water.”

In other words, our default is often to be utilitarian, until something like story or beauty baptizes the ordinary with meaning.

Robert Greene, who is by no means a religious writer, says in his book Mastery recommends to view your life’s work as a kind of religious quest.

Why?

Maybe because reimagining your life with a proper sacred frame restores us to how we were made to live. Without a sacred frame, work becomes mere output.

Is that how you see your work? As a quest?

Is this what you are thinking about on your way out the door?

I actually bought a framed copy of this painting when I was 21 and hung it in my room… built different, bro.

If I can try to state my line of thinking clearly it would be that…

• The imagination shapes how we experience life.

• Christian tradition has long recognized this and has sought to train the imagination toward what is good, true, and beautiful.

• Beauty and story are among the primary ways ordinary life is re-enchanted and meaning is restored.

What’s become mundane? What in your life do you need to have re-inspired?

Consider how you might cultivate an inner well of treasure that you can draw on to infuse your life with wonder.

Read short stories. Read great novels. Look at incredible photography. Watch amazing films. Listen to touching music.

Maybe even buy Architectural Digest.

God bless.

“Don’t eat that Sour Patch Kid. It’s poisonous. If you eat it, you’ll die.”
“And if you disobey me, you’re going to hell.”

What?!

This is a little hilarious, but these were the kinds of voices in my head.

At church, youth group leaders shared cool stories about God telling them where they should move or who to marry. Some of the stories were incredible, and I don’t doubt they heard from God.

Other people told me to ask God about everything I do, what to wear every day, and what to eat. This felt arbitrary and stupid. It felt more like a math equation rather than something poetic, mysterious, and beautiful. I knew what I wanted to eat and wear.

“His voice will sound more like you than God.”

Well, I sound crazy sometimes…

“You’ll know because you would never think that.”

Uhhh… try me, guy. My mind is in deep left field sometimes.

I wanted to hear from God.

One morning, I got up while it was still dark, drove outside my high school gym before basketball practice, and attempted to put whatever instruction I had come across into practice. I didn’t know what voices to listen to. I didn’t know what thoughts to ascribe to God or not.

I ended up literally yelling in my truck around 6 a.m.,

“SPEAK TO ME!!!!”

Almost a decade later, a friend mentioned a therapist he’d been meeting with who had been incredibly helpful. He recommended I try meeting with him during a challenging vocational season. The therapist specialized in OCD and was also pursuing an additional master’s in spiritual direction.

Early on, he asked me, “What do you want to get out of this, Max?”

I replied, “I think I just want you to care about me and help me hear God’s voice more clearly.”

Two years later, I think my life would look much different if I wouldn’t have met him.

Here’s the reality, and there’s obviously more to say than I will. OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, has had something of a pop-culture moment, for better or worse.

But most people I know, on some level or another, have experienced obsessive-compulsive thoughts at some point in their lives: ruminating over something you’re worried about, the sense of an inner urgency that feels difficult and sometimes impossible to resist.

Then you find yourself in this cyclical wormhole, and you think the best thing you can do is argue yourself out of it until your mind is a shell of anxiety, fear, and shame.

Researchers have noticed that OC tends to cluster around recurring themes. Typically, things you cared about most at one point in your life.

So it might look like this:

You don’t want to be late for work, so you check your alarm clock fifteen times every night before bed (often referred to as checking OC).

You wash your hands immediately after a meal due to a fear of germs (often referred to as contamination OC. Howie Mandel has spoken openly about something of this kind).

Maybe, in your dating history, you can never quite commit to someone due to finding yourself stuck in obsessive doubt about one thing in particular in the relationship, constantly seeking reassurance in regard to it (often referred to as relationship OC).

Or maybe you experience intrusive, unwanted sexual thoughts that don’t reflect your desires or values, but the more you’re scared of having these thoughts, the more you think these thoughts until again you’re filled with fear and shame (often referred to as sexual OCD).

Or maybe you’ve experienced an excessive fear of offending God, marked by compulsive praying, confessing, or moral checking (often referred to as religious scrupulosity. This is famously described in the early life of Martin Luther before he came to know the doctrine of salvation by faith).

What a strange and fragile thing it is to be human.

Each expression of this is as unique as the person experiencing it.

This last experience is what feels closest to mine. It mattered deeply to me to hear from God, but I was so confused. So a voice is just going to come into my head? In certain moments, I became somewhat obsessively attentive to any “voice” and worried and ashamed if I didn’t obey it.

It sounds a little stupid or silly to admit, but maybe there’s a tendency you recognize in yourself that you feel controlled by.

The first step is really just to identify it when it comes up. Having language to spot it. Personifying OC patterns even. It’s kind of like Gollum from Lord of the Rings.

“Hey buddy, I know you really care about this thing, and I understand why you care about it, and you want to make sure it’s okay… but it’s making us all look a little insane. It’s kind of seriously ruining the vibes… so I know you’re not leaving forever, but you’re gonna have to stay in the back while I’m on my hobbit walk. Ok? Ok. Just stay back there. Yeah, that’s good. Maybe even a little further. Yeah, that’s good. Please don’t bite my finger off…”

Here’s a little tool I learned when these thoughts come up.

R.A.I.N.

RECOGNIZE: Notice when you’re experiencing this.
ASSESS: What thoughts, emotions, urges, and physical sensations are present in this moment?
INVESTIGATE: What’s causing this?
NURTURE: Deal compassionately with yourself and decide the way you should go forward, not motivated by fear or compulsion. Let the thought go. Engaging argumentatively with it only makes it worse. It’s not a bear. Be brave. Travel light. Let it go and continue forward.

But in my case, how do you distinguish between this voice of “god” and THE voice of God?

Jesus said, “My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27)

If you’ve been drawn into relationship with the triune God through faith in Jesus, you probably hear Him more than you realize. Or maybe you even sense him calling you into that relationship for the first time.

The issue is not whether God is speaking, but whether we’re paying attention and growing in familiarity to identify Him.

So how do we grow in this?

One of the most practical pieces of advice my Jedi spiritual director therapist gave me was to begin my day with silence. To practice releasing all other voices and focus my attention, in faith, on the loving presence of God in and around all of me.

This is harder than it sounds.
Social media has splintered my attention span.

Henri Nouwen once wrote:

“Without solitude it is virtually impossible to live a spiritual life… We do not take the spiritual life seriously if we do not set aside some time to be with God and listen to Him.”

This looks like, ideally, ten minutes to thirty minutes of quiet. Sometimes I’ll let my mind drift into a rabbit hole, but then bring it back to being attentive to His presence. Over time, this becomes the default posture of my mind and heart, being present with who I believe God to be.

Repeating this builds new neural pathways and makes them easier to access instead of obsessive-compulsive patterns.

You’ll get good at letting go of all other accusatory, superstitious, urgently demanding, and shaming voices in your own head. These are thoughts and voices that are uncharacteristic in tone and content of the God of Scripture, revealed most clearly to us in the person of Jesus

God’s speech feels different.
As intimacy grows, you begin to recognize it, sometimes deep in your bones.

Longtime philosophy professor at USC and Christian author Dallas Willard put it this way (read his book Hearing God, by the way):

“Only our communion with God provides the appropriate context for communication between us and Him.”

This exposes a problem in me.

I often want to bypass communion and use God as a means to an end. I want peace. Provision. Direction. Relief. There’s no shame in needing help. God knows we do. But all of that is found in God. He’s the prize.

I don’t want to hear God merely to get what I want.
I want to know His voice because I want to know Him.

You cannot separate hearing from God and communion with God.
Seek the Shepherd, and over time you’ll begin to become familiar with His voice.

Be patient.
Be kind to yourself.

With that in mind, it helps to name a few lampposts that shed light on the the ordinary places God tends to speak.

1. Inner Longings

A defining distinction of Christianity from all other religions is that God sent His personality through His Spirit to live in you. Uh oh. What?

Scripture says, “It is God who works in you, both to will and to work for His good pleasure” (Phil. 2:13).

That means it’s worth paying attention to your inner life.

What’s grieving you?
What’s disappointing you?
What do you long for?
What do you dream about?

This could be an invitation that God is drawing you into, an opportunity for intimacy, for you to share back with Him in prayer and see what He will do in your one and only unique life.

2. The Ancient Words

I forget who God is.
Left to myself, I imagine Him as irritated, distant, disappointed, angry, and incompetent.

What a weird combo.

Scripture, rightly understood, reminds me and surprises me with who God actually is. Living in the story of the Bible confronts and inspires our imaginations with the true character of God.

3. Holy Community and Circumstances

Before I moved to New York, I had four experiences I can remember of God kindly communicating.

The first was a middle aged man I had met only once before. He saw me randomly working at a coffee shop (as PNW folks do). He asked if he could pray for me. I agreed.

“You’re exactly where God wants you to be Max, but everything is about to change.”

I didn’t know what he was talking about, whether this was an internal or external change, or if it was complete bogus. But I had a feeling in my gut I’d never really experienced before.

A few months later, when things in fact began to change, during a church service I prayed and asked God,

“Should I really move to New York? Is there any way you could confirm that this is something I should do?”

Right after the service, a man I’d never met before in the church came up to me and said, “I got this sense that you were praying and asking God for confirmation about whether you should move to New York, and so this is your confirmation. Ok?” Then he shook my hand and walked away.

HAHA!

Taken together, along with an experience of a painting and something a text from a friend who had been praying for me, it left me amazed that the God of the universe might be speaking to insignificant me.

There’s no self-importance in these. I share them only to hopefully stir faith in you, to spur you on to sharing your life with God. Anything is possible.

These are some of the more dramatic moments I’ve had in my life. Most of the time, it’s in the day-to-day routine of life.

It’s all a little bit of a mysterious adventure that God has invited us into.
What a joy.
Have courage.

I want to share my life with God. I need to be more disciplined to make time to know Him.

Thank you, Lord, for the wonder of knowing You.
Give us power to look for You and pay attention.
We want to hear Your voice.

And thank you for Sour Patch Kids.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Maxwell Clay Damon

In 1971, David Bowie interviewed with Melody Maker magazine and said, “I hate my singing voice. I hate singing, really. It’s not an enjoyment; I mean, someone’s gotta do it.”

Years later, offering advice to younger artists, he said, “Always remember that the reason you initially started working was that there was something inside yourself that you felt that if you could manifest in some way, you would understand more about yourself and how you coexist with the rest of society.”

David Bowie’s top song on Spotify right now has over 2 billion plays. He sold over 140 million records, and he significantly shaped the kind of music that would come out for years after him. This is all from one guy who hated singing.

Recently I attended an event with about 200 young artists on the 14th floor of a building in New York City. New York City, baby! Artists performed dances, songs, poems, and read essays. People were cheering as they watched the performances. The room was alive. It was genuinely exciting.

Some pieces were amazing. One artist’s work showed remarkable craftsmanship that made me really respect the devotion he had given himself over to. Other performances had potential but lacking rigor or excellence.

As I watched, I was enjoying and criticizing. A thought entered my mind as a kind of rebuke to my evaluations of the art:

At least they created something.

It is easy to critique. I think we all like critiquing. It’s fun. It’s helpful sometimes. But it puts us above the situation, looking down on it, without much participation, if any.

It is harder to produce.

I find myself at times walking the streets of NYC with a kind of mentor of mine. There are incredible things all around you, and he will often stop me, point at some building or business, pause, and say, “That was in someone’s mind once. And it is only here because they chose to make it.”

I respect that. It takes courage to create. It takes effort. It takes craftsmanship.

As humans, we love generativeness. We know it intuitively.

Recently, in some reading, I came across the idea of language theory and that you can divide our conversations into two broad categories: formulaic language and generative language.

Formulaic language we know well. It’s when you see someone you’re supposed to know, and you probably know their name, but that last 10% of doubt keeps you from using it, and you launch into a conversation like:

“Hey, how’s it going?”

“Oh, I’m doing great. How are you?”

You pause, quickly evaluating a contemporary social event that isn’t controversial to bring up.

“Good, good. So, uh, are you looking forward to the holidays?”

And so on. This is weather talk. We already have a formula. We already have the script in our subconscious. It requires very little thought. It is efficient and predictable.

Generative language breaks the script.

Generative language is when someone says something you’ve never heard before or didn’t expect. It is the conversation you hope to stumble into at a party. It’s original. Someone asks you:

“Hey man, if anything was possible, what would be your dream over the next five years?”

Suddenly, something new and alive is happening. You’re thinking thoughts and saying words that you never have before.

We long for that same generative quality, not just in conversation, but in life itself.

We don’t want to merely coast on structures and routines that already exist, important as they are. We want to bring something new into being. The book of Genesis names this impulse early. Humanity is commanded and given the dignity to be “fruitful and multiply,” to “fill the earth and subdue it,” not only biologically but creatively.

Jesus recognizes that the inner life is not passive. He says, “A good person out of the good treasure of his heart produces good” (Luke 6:45). In other words, what is stored up within a person does not stay hidden. It moves outward. The heart produces.

This doesn’t mean that everything inside us should be expressed, but it does mean that the heart is a generative place. What is formed there shapes what comes into the world through our words, actions, and choices. Life flows from the inside out.

Your specific life, you as an individual, every action you make, is something the world has never seen before, a generative act unfolding every day.

But producing something meaningful often feels costly. It requires intention, discipline, and commitment to a form or medium that can carry what is within us into reality.

A cherished example of this for me is my dad.

When my siblings and I were young, all four of us playing organized sports, he decided to go out and buy a massive 15-passenger van to drive our sports teams to games and tournaments. It was heroic and hilarious.

During Christmas one year, without telling us, he hung Christmas lights in all five rows of the van and took our family around our hometown drinking McDonald’s eggnog milkshakes, singing Christmas songs, and going around looking at Christmas lights.

My dad had a vision in his heart to bless his family with joy and fun that surrounds the Christmas season.

He brought it into the world through a 2006 FORD VAN.

Kind of expensive, but maybe easier than painting or poetry.

Maybe your form or medium is something culturally recognized as art: photography, writing, singing, or performance.

Or maybe it looks more common: Like its hosting dinners that cultivate real friendships, or building a course that helps young entrepreneurs get started, or stepping into a role at work and quietly doing it well.

And maybe, like David Bowie, you do not even love the medium itself, but there’s something inside you that needs to find embodiment.

Whatever it is, commit to it. Something that allows what God has put in your heart to become real, tangible, and shared. And do it with excellence. The world is richer because of people who choose to create good things.

“Someone’s gotta do it.”

Maxwell Clay Damon