I grew up surrounded by the dense forests of western Oregon.

Endless acres of trees, ferns, moss, and the distant sound of the North Santiam River formed the backdrop of a boyhood full of adventure. It was there that I first turned my heart toward God. It was also there that I began to discover that the world was not quite as perfect as the patch of forest I grew up in seemed to be.

At seventeen, I left home for seminary and began a journey that would take me farther than I could have imagined.

Along the way, I led a church in Northern Colorado, pastored angsty teenagers in Texas, huddled in the rain with persecuted believers in Myanmar, survived a massive earthquake in San Salvador, and served alongside women battling AIDS in East Africa. I have sung and danced with believers in Oregon and buried friends who died of malaria in Malawi. I have experienced more joy and beauty, grief and shame, wonder and loss than I knew was possible the day I first left home.

All of it has shaped the way I understand people, pain, faith, and the stories we carry.

I have come to believe that the way we feel and the patterns we live in are almost always connected to older places in our hearts and stories. Those places are holy ground to me. The wild places in our stories hold evidence of both glory and harm. They contain the ways God has been working and weaving together something beautiful, and they also bear the marks of what has wounded us, diminished us, or taught us to live as someone other than who we were created to be.

I think of my work as a guide on the journey into the wilderness of the heart, where untold stories can finally be told, where pain and loss can be understood in new ways, and where we begin to recognize both what has brought life and what has conspired against it. Whatever we find on the journey, my hope is to meet it with both tenderness and strength.

By now, you have probably noticed that I am a follower of Jesus.

My faith is central to who I am and to the way I understand the human story, but I meet people wherever they find themselves. Many of the people I work with are Christians. Some used to be. Others hold different beliefs or no belief at all. You do not need to share my faith in order to be respected, welcomed, or deeply known in the work we do together.

I live in southwest Missouri with my incredible, adventurous, stunning wife Rachel, our lovely and kind young-adult daughter, and our two rough-and-tumble, hilarious, and passionate teenage sons. Our home backs up to a quiet farm inhabited by cows, wild turkeys, coyotes, and owls.

When I am not walking through the wilderness of the soul with clients, I can often be found walking through the actual wilderness with men through Restoration Project, where I serve as Director of Church Partnerships.

I am also the author of That’s Not My Name, a book about identity, shame, story, and the long work of becoming who we were made to be.

My background includes more than twenty years of full-time ministry as a pastor, church planter, and missionary, along with fourteen years of pastoral counseling. I have completed Levels 1–3 of the ReStory Institute and Levels 1 and 2 in Gottman Method Couples Therapy. I hold bachelor’s degrees in Ministry and Organizational Leadership.