I still have a lot of work to do. And for clarity’s sake, that work isn’t about rejecting rituals or doctrine. Those things matter—many of the legends we look up to lived by them. Ritual and doctrine give people rhythm, stability, and direction. I respect that deeply. My work right now is more about perspective, and trying to honestly understand what we’re really talking about when we talk about God.

And the one thing I keep coming back to is hope.

Hope is the thread that pulls so many of us toward belief in the first place. I’m not educated in every theology, and I don’t pretend to know the inner workings of every religion. But I do know that hope—real, grounding hope—is for everyone. Whether you turn on a worship song, say a quiet prayer, show up to church, or carry faith in your own way… it’s the hope behind it that matters. The hope that it’s worthwhile. The hope that it’s attached to something bigger than you.

And maybe it’s age, maybe it’s experience, or maybe it’s just where life has taken me—but I’ve found myself drawn back to that hope more than ever. I pray a but more now. I feel a sense of purpose that I’ve never had before, at least not in this way. For years it was like I had tasted something but never sat down for the full meal. Now I’ve finally sat down, and I’m still hungry, fully ready to take it in. But the only reason I can sit here with that kind of trust is because I believe something greater than me put me in that seat. And if I was placed there, then clearly I’m ready. I can trust that. And I’m grateful for it. That’s what life is about.

And yes, people may think I should believe the way they believe. But that part of this journey is private. My questions are mine. My path is mine. Yet the one thing that has never left me—never even dimmed—is hope. And the pursuit of God.

Isn’t that what so many of those old Bible stories were really about anyway? The pursuit. The search. The reaching.

And along the way, there have been countless names and faces who watered that original seed in me. The journey from where I started to where I’m heading has been incredible. Where I’m at now feels a bit like the dust settling. But some of the people who shaped me—I’ll never forget them. Mike & Jane Walker, Israel Jane, the students I walked with in Master’s Commission, my friends in Florida. Everyone from my old church in Post Falls. All the stops—every little shop and chapter—along the way.

They all left something with me.

That part never left. And I don’t think it ever will.