Tomy Wilkerson

Random Thoughts.

So this post will seem as if I’ve run out ideas or that I’m too lazy to write an actual post. On the contrary, I actually saw this on a pastor’s blog a few months ago and have been collecting thoughts about everything and nothing since. I want to share some with you. Without further ado…

Cayman has lots of traditional, institutional churches. It even has a few contemporary, evangelical churches. But where is the missional church? And what does it mean if I’m the only person who sees this as a problem?

I’ve written songs I believe in, but don’t know if I’ll ever have the pleasure of pursuing them. Should I sell them? How does one even go about that? Furthermore, who’s even interested in generic pop rock songs? Not sure there’s a huge market for that.

Male privilege is real.

Sometimes I wonder if we intentionally allow the complexity of certain issues/situations to be an excuse for our passivity.

I don’t think I’m a “fun” person. I don’t say that as a critique to myself. It’s an honest assessment.

As activists and prophets, how do we create instead of simply destroy? In general, what does it look like to be known not only for what we are against, but, more importantly, what we are for?

This year I made a goal to read at least five books over 500 pages. Next year I want to read at least five (auto)biographies.

What does a church for people disillusioned with the church look like?

I strongly dislike social obsessions.

Why is it so much easier to listen to critics than to focus on Jesus?

What if the ultimate measure of happiness is when you no longer feel the incessant need to post it all over social media?

We will never experience community as long as we’re looking for a way out of it.

At the heart of what it means to be a Christian is to stand for justice. You can’t turn a blind eye toward injustice and call yourself a follower of Jesus.

There are certain things more important than our fears.

Lastly, I’m wondering if I’m wrong about who I think God is and if so, if I’m honest enough to admit it. That sounds very cryptic. I promise you it’s not. I’m still Christian. I still love Jesus. I just realize I still don’t know everything.

Experiences in Planting, Part 2: Creating a Core

Mark Driscoll in his book Confessions of a Reformission Rev. talks about the moment he stopped wasting time on people who were never going to be on board with the vision God laid on his heart and started investing in people who were interested in being missionaries to the city of Seattle. It was then things began to change for Mars Hill.

It sounds harsh but it’s reality: as a planter you are one person trying to create something from nothing. With limited time and energy, every move you make is important to the life of your ministry. Every move must be strategic and forward-looking, including whom you invest in.

Central to starting something from the ground up is finding faithful people who embody the mission and core values of our group. As nice as it is to love, nurture, and, sometimes, chase after each person that comes our way, we can’t. It’s simply not strategic. This isn’t to say we neglect those entrusted to our care – absolutely not. Jesus calls us to care for and feed his sheep. If someone, Christian or not quite there yet, is eagerly searching for God they are to be stuck with. The thing I’m trying to beware of is wasting time trying to corral people who don’t want to be corralled. There’s a difference between a sheep that accidentally wanders off and one that looks both ways then runs for hills.

In the past I’ve spent too much time focusing on the wrong people but now I’m concerned about doing the opposite: giving up at the faintest sign of struggle. The flaw in the first one is that in spending time with all the wrong people we’re wasting valuable time and energy that could be spent investing in the right people, moving progress forward. We’re ignoring the people the Holy Spirit has prepared for this moment. However, in moving on too quickly we run the risk of passing over those same people. If we expect to find leaders without a struggle, we’ll never have a core. There must be a balance. The trick is in finding it.

One way I’ve been trying to sift the two groups is by creating opportunities for missional engagement. As we embody our values, people almost naturally self-select their level of participation. Those who are serious rise to the surface whereas those who aren’t remain on the fringe. In the process, a natural core begins to form and it’s those people we intentionally invest in. It’s taken a while but it feels like we’re just beginning to see this with our university students and let me tell you, they’re not who I had in mind.

Last spring was probably the most productive season of ministry I’ve ever experienced. I met with more students one-on-one than I ever had before, did more evangelism than I was used to, and hosted more events than I intended. Yet it’s this semester a core is taking shape almost unbeknownst to me. Somewhere in this is a lesson about compromise, patience, and the sovereignty of God in planting but this will do for now.

On My Birthday

Because I missed my post last week, I decided to make it up by posting twice this week.

When people know you’re a Christian every move you make, for better or worse, gets put under the microscope. Whether it’s what you do or don’t do, eat or don’t eat, everything somehow gets called into question.

The other day a student asked me what I had planned for Halloween and when I said I didn’t celebrate it, a concerned look passed over their face. I assured them it had nothing to do with religious conviction as much as it was the fact Halloween is my birthday so I celebrate that day instead. Often when people discover I was born on Halloween they ask me what it’s like (i.e. if I get candy and presents, if I’ve ever thrown a Halloween party, if I like having them together, etc.). Detecting their excitement, I try not to spoil their fun but ultimately I end up telling them like it is: it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Anyone else who shares a birthday with a holiday knows exactly what I’m talking about (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9TLvl0vG2Zo).

For the longest time I disliked having my birthday on Halloween, to the point where I started telling people my birthday was November 1^st. I figured I could save them the agony of choosing which day was more important to them. While to me, and a close community of people, my birth deserves to be celebrated, for the majority of the world Halloween carries the heavier weight. For kids it’s an excuse to get free candy and for young adults, it’s justification for debauchery. And because I’ve never been big on the holiday in either phase of life, I’ve always felt outside of the party; like it wasn’t for me but I was invited nonetheless.

In recent years, though, I’ve found that it’s the group of people I’m surrounded by that makes my birthday special. Just this past weekend I was reminding of the time my entire InterVarsity chapter made matching yet distinct t-shirts saying “Happy Birthday, Tomy”, wore them to church, and garnered the attention of our leader (who was/is one my greatest heroes). He then put one on, joined us for lunch, and convinced me to come on staff with InterVarsity. I floated on Cloud Nine for days. Even as I write this I’m reminded of last year when my wife surprised me by having all my friends in Cayman show up on our date for frozen yogurt. It was my first birthday in Cayman and I just about melted from the love I felt in my heart. But even that doesn’t encapsulate the homemade Aquaman birthday cards, the misadventures in Berkeley, Last House on the Left watching, and all the great moments I’ve had the fortune of sharing with great people. Yes, Halloween can be tragedy ridden. Yes, my birthday can be saddened by that fact. However, the reality is I’m overwhelmingly blessed with friends and family that make having a birthday on Halloween all the more enjoyable.

Since seventeen I’ve maintained a tradition in which at midnight I listen to a song that somehow incorporated the age I was turning in it to inaugurate my day. The older I get the less my self-imposed traditions and metaphors matter to me. Nevertheless there is a song that does come to mind and I’d like to share that with you.

“Twenty-Four” by Switchfoot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QuWJ0LMCotI

Thank you for all the love, support, and birthday wishes. You guys are the best.

My Lack of Faith

“Why haven’t you invited me to church?” she asked, looking me straight in the eyes.

I wasn’t sure what caught me more off guard: the fact she’d been so straightforward in her inquiry or the fact that this was actually the second time in a month someone asked me this exact question. Searching my head for answers, I did my best to explain why I hadn’t been so forthcoming in our interactions. Something about post-modern, post-Christian culture and asking nonbelievers to attend your church being a greater threshold for them to cross. I’m sure it sounded very educated if not convincing. But if I’m honest my lack of invitation had nothing to do with “mission” or “effective evangelism.” The real reason I hadn’t invited her to my church was because I lacked, and still lack, faith.

We’ve all heard stories of people bringing their friends to church for the first time only to have it completely backfire or, just as bad, leaves them completely unchanged therefore increasing their skepticism. I was afraid that if I invited them to church, God would not meet them there. I doubted my church, God’s ability to use it, and God in general.

As I try to figure out where my own skepticism comes from, my mind goes blank. God has been nothing but good to me. Yet somewhere deep down in the recesses of my soul I’m still waiting on that one moment God fails me. More than questioning his ability to act in certain situations, I doubt whether or not he will.

But when we look at the miracles of Jesus, we’re hard-pressed to find one that doesn’t involve the faith of the recipient to some extent. They believe Jesus can do something and he does it. In fact, there’s a time in which Jesus doesn’t do any miracles because of the lack of faith around him. Maybe the reason I don’t see God at work in my life is because I don’t believe he is. In my doubt, I remain stagnant and refuse God the opportunity to prove me wrong.

Some people have the spiritual gift of faith. I am not one of those people and that’s okay. What’s not okay is that Jesus calls us to have faith the size of a mustard seed (something so small it’s almost embarrassing) and I don’t even have that.

I don’t know how to get more or stronger faith. I suppose prayer plays a part but perhaps in the same way we reassure children that a ride is just a ride or a movie is just a movie, maybe the foundation of our faith are the facts: God is good and he loves us. More importantly, he loves displaying His glory and he does not fail. Of course, in the throes of a roller-coaster it’s hard to remember it’s just a ride and in the moment, it’s hard to remember that God is God. Fortunately for us truth is not contingent on how we feel.

I want to be a man who believes God at his word and has the utmost confidence that God can do the miraculous, that he not only loves me but also loves his glory and will move on both his and my behalf to see his purposes brought forth. But at this moment I resonate more with the man in Mark 9 than anything else. I believe, help my unbelief.

Why We (I) Can’t Have Nice Things

Ten minutes away from my apartment sits a lovely two-bedroom, two bathroom townhouse on the canal waiting for renters. In it is a guest room so spacious it could pass as the master, enough storage space to make your friends jealous, and a master bedroom so gargantuan you’ll fall over at the sight of it only to find out that right outside is a balcony overlooking the canal. Fully equipped with a table and chairs, a perfect view of your potential neighbor’s boat, big enough for you and your friends awaits. Apparently he could use the company.

Sounds perfect, right?

Yet whenever my wife asks me if I want to move there, I’m overcome with reluctance. Not because it’s too expensive (though it would cost us a bit more) or because it’s further from everything (though it is), but because it’s too nice.

I struggle with having nice things. I look at magazines of huge houses in breathtaking locations and I inwardly hope I never own them. I’m afraid that comfort will cause me to forget the brokenness of the world and disengage from God’s mission. I’m terrified that I’ll forget Jesus in the midst of luxury, which is probably the hardest part about living in Cayman. While nice things have the potential to remind of us the Giver of said gifts, more often than not they cause us to lose sight of him.

As Christians we model ourselves after a man who identified himself with the poor, called people to sell all they have and give it to the poor, warned us we could not serve both God and money, specifically instructed us not to store up treasures on earth, and told us It’s easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God all while having no place to lay his head. To pursue luxury almost feels like direct disobedience.

So instead I buy books either free or cheap on my gifted kindle, wear the same shoes every day, and resist using air conditioning at all costs. But in my pursuit of simplicity I’ve become a Pharisee, judging people based off the amount of money carelessly spent. But here’s the thing: I do it too. I buy five dollar smoothies at least once a month, get breakfast with a friend at least once a week, and even when I refuse to spend money on something because “it could go to the poor” more often I spend it on something else. There are plenty of people who put me to shame with their spending habits. But maybe that’s the issue right there: I’m looking at what everyone else is spending, which has allowed pride to rear its ugly head into my life.

I value simplicity and believe that combined with generosity, it frees us from the idol of materialism prevalent in our culture. But this week I’m recognizing that without Jesus at the center, we end up worshipping the same idol dressed differently. We, as Christians, are allowed to own nice things. Perhaps the solution comes in offering our niceties as well as everything else to God with open palms instead of clenched fists, recognizing it was never truly ours to own, while also understanding He is standard by which we base our lives, not society.

The Religious Skeptic

“Hi Tomy. There are some missionaries here on island and I invited them to speak to the students this week. I hope that’s okay,” one of the faculty advisors for our high school group said to me.

Because the Caribbean has taught me a lot about flexibility, I didn’t consider it an issue. Instead I did my best to think through how we could best utilize our time with the students and after running through a few options, I decided to let the missionaries share whatever they felt God laid on their heart. What came next wasn’t what I was expecting.

Whereas most places suffer from having never heard the gospel, Cayman suffers from having heard it too much. As a result the challenge then becomes presenting the good news in unique ways that challenge the hearer actually wrestle with the offer Jesus is making. For nearly two years I’ve done my best to earn trust and be mindful of my context, being strategic.

But not these guys.

These guys spouted Scripture left and right. They prayed mid-sentence with eyes closed and outstretched arms, pronouncing the blessings of God while rebuking demons. They were the some of the strangest Christians I’d ever met. There even was an interpretive dance, which in theory isn’t weird but it was literally one woman and a couple of moves in front of a room of 16-17 year old students. Right when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, they asked students to hug them if they wanted a hug from Jesus. I was done. I racked my brain for what to say to act as damage control when a student got up and gave them a hug. Then another got up. And then another – until each student received a hug from Jesus. One girl was even in tears. It was absolutely remarkable.

This past week I started reading Christena Cleveland’s Disunity in Christ and in the first chapter she mentions that when she first came to faith she saw every Christian, regardless of denomination or background, as family. But as she continued to grow she began to develop frameworks for what Right Christians and Wrong Christians look like. She argues, both hilariously and poignantly, that this occurs as a result of belonging to a homogeneous group. The longer you exist in a particular group, the more convinced you are that your group knows what’s best.

Because I don’t come from a mystical tradition, I’m skeptical towards those who do. If I’m honest, I believe my way of following Jesus is the only way. But this week I’m challenged by the fact God is more inclusive than I am. Doesn’t God reserve the right to be bigger than my conceptions of who He is? Doesn’t Paul specifically warn us not to view one part of the body as less important than another? Is it not possible that there’s something to be learned from those who follow Jesus differently? The truth is I did learn something that day: more important than my strategy is the Holy Spirit – and they’re not always the same thing. As nice as reading books, attending seminars, and listening to sermons, nothing compares to sitting in the presence of God and allowing him to mold you.

That day they weren’t concerned about being cool or accepted, they were concerned with exemplifying the love of God no matter how awkward it may have been. They followed the Spirit and made the Father smile. And you know what? I could afford to be more like them.

Spiritual Weaknesses: Recognizing the Limitations Within our Gifts

I’m fascinated by personality. In fact, sometimes I think I went to school for the wrong thing because often when people are telling me about their lives, I’m silently psychoanalyzing them. This interest only intensified when I began the journey of discovering my spiritual gifts. But if there’s one thing I’ve found these past couple of weeks is that in the same way every personality has its strengths and weakness, every office mentioned in Ephesians 4 has its limitations, often for the same reason it’s a gift. More than being a truth I cognitively assent to, it’s become a reality I’m seeing in my ministry.

Recently, I’ve had friends tell me I’m an evangelist and I’ll be honest: that excites me. Evangelists are heralds of the good news, motivated by God’s grace. With one foot in the church and the other in culture, they easily blend with people from various backgrounds without needing to be one of them and invite them to say yes to Jesus. Nothing excites them more than seeing people come to the kingdom and nothing disturbs them more than hanging out with a bunch of Christians.

This explains why I sometimes have a hard time getting along with other believers and why I’m bored to tears in most “churchy” environments. It explains why I have a better relationship with some of the skeptics and seekers on campus than I do with some of the Christians I encounter and why I get such a high from spiritual conversations. Whether I’m on a plane, train, in a café or a bar, I’m always looking for people to talk about God.

But for the same reason it’s a gift, it’s also a challenge. Because evangelists are outward-focused the challenge for them is to actually care for a flock of people under their leadership. They have a tendency to love someone for a time and then leave without actually showing people how to proceed after making such the decision to follow Jesus. Because their desire to see people come to the kingdom, the temptation is to present a reductionist gospel in order to gain numbers. And they’re not the only ones: Shepherds, in their love for people, can create codependent disciples; prophets, in their love for God, can be so passionate about truth they fail to speak it in love; and teachers, in their love for knowledge, can solely exist in their ivory tower. The list goes on and on.

If I’m honest there are certain gifts I’ve idolized, thinking to myself some are better than others, when the reality is all gifts are created equal and function together to establish, build, and strengthen his church. None of them can exist independently: each gift has its strength and its limitations. But more importantly, they’re never more important than the One who gives the gift. While the temptation is to restrict ourselves to ministries that only require our abilities, our job is to recognize our weaknesses, surrender them to Jesus, and allow him to grow us as we empower and learn from those who have what we lack. While I’m still grappling with what that looks like tangibly looks, recognition and confession is the first step.

I Thought We Were Friends…until you deleted me from Facebook.

After a couple of days of seeing a steady stream of statuses and pictures from a particular person on my Facebook timeline, I should’ve noticed when their notifications stopped appearing in my feed. When it finally crossed my mind I hadn’t heard anything from them in a while, I searched their name, found their profile, and, in my discovery, also found I had been unfriended.

It should be said this person and I weren’t/aren’t particularly close, just an acquaintance I’d seen around from time to time, yet anxiety still gnawed at my stomach. I was legitimately upset over this and the fact that I was upset over this fascinated me.

It’s not like I had never unfriended anyone before. I had – for multiple reasons. Whether it was the fact I didn’t know the person or felt it would be better if we didn’t speak, I’m no stranger to deed. In fact, it’s not like I hadn’t been unfriended before either. I have – for multiple reasons. Yet, for some reason, this one actually hurt. I’ll be the first to admit we often use social media as a way to paint our lives a particularly rosy hue and more often than not our Facebook friendships are about as deep as the kiddie pool in the backyard. But for all the reasons of why it shouldn’t have mattered, it did. Even if our friendship on Facebook was superficial, in this instance it felt as if I wasn’t even worthy the ambiguous hope of getting to know one another better.

Regardless of whether or not we’re close friends or distant strangers, to friend someone on Facebook is an invitation to join in relationship with each other. If I friend you it means I’m, at least, mildly interested in your life and open to inviting you into mine. As dumb as it is and as much as it shouldn’t affect our real life interactions, it does. To unfriend is to bar someone’s presence in your digital life and to express no interest in theirs (which is interesting because even though social media can be used to distort the picture of our lives, it’s still a window into our souls nonetheless).

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if it wasn’t for the fact I’ve become selective as to who I friend on Facebook. The one time I act in faith and friend someone, I find myself unfriended a week later. The worst part though is the betrayal. Someone crosses your mind, you try to let them know, only to find you’ve been deleted their life. No message, no explanation, no nothing. That hurts, man.

I recognize this post is ridiculous. Somewhere someone – if anyone – reading this is shaking their head at how dumb this is. I totally agree. It is dumb. I just needed a place to let that out. It’s like when the heartbreaker finally gets their heart broken and they realize they’ve inflicted this kind of pain on others and vow to never do it again. Getting legitimately and unexpectedly unfriended has somehow changed my view on the act. I don’t think I want to do that to other people. Not without an explanation at least.

If the person who deleted me happens to read this, though I highly doubt they will: well, this is awkward. Let’s make an agreement: you pretend as if you didn’t delete me and I’ll pretend like I didn’t write this. Deal?

It’s Been a Gift

Someone recently asked me if I had intentions of writing a book any time in the future. I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. However I’m constantly challenged by the fact I simply haven’t lived enough. If there’s one thing this blog has consistently shown me it’s that I don’t actually know a thing about anything (I just like to pretend I do). Every week has stretched me beyond my limits and forced me to put the complexity of emotions and ideas into words. Twenty-six blog entries in and if I had to pick one word to sum up my experience so far it’s that this blog has been a gift.

I’ve felt the adrenaline coursing through my veins as I rush to finish last minute revisions. I’ve woken up only to be humbled by likes, comments, and occasional shares. I’ve even found joy in the editing process (not to say I’ve always gotten it right). The whole point of this blog was to get me writing/producing regularly and for the past six months it’s been that. I’ve had a space to articulate thoughts and grapple with what I’m learning in my context, often finding that it’s in the writing of a thing I come face-to-face with what I’ve yet to unpack in a given subject.

One thing I’ve wrestled with since the inception of this blog is its duration: How long can I keep this going? I want to honor God with the talents and abilities he’s given me by growing in them but it can get exhausting to do this week after week. I want to give my all to my wife and my students. To say yes to blogging might also be saying no to something else more important. If I’m honest as much as it’s been nice to write my thoughts whether theological or philosophical, I really want to push myself to write creatively again. Right now there are a handful of ideas I’ve been meaning to pursue but I haven’t found the time. Perhaps, I’m just making excuses.

Nevertheless my intentions are to continue blogging with this frequency for another six months until it’s been a full year. After that it’s up in the air. That’s not to say I won’t write or update. One option is to write once a month but post longer articles, I might transition to a more specialized focus, or maybe I’ll just write here whenever I need to say something. If this year has been about discipline, I want the next ones to be about freedom (not to say the two are antithetical to each other).

I do, however, want to say thank you from the bottom of my heart to all the people who have taken time to read this blog. Whether it’s been a consistent read or a casual glance, when I started this blog I wanted to feel heard and your attentiveness has shown me that I am. It’s been quite a journey but I’m excited to see what the future holds. Thank you.

Twenty-six down, twenty-six more to go.

Ten Books That Have Influenced My Life

This past week I took a break from social media and when I came back I found myself tagged, not once but twice, to share a list of ten books that have influenced my life in some way. Shortly after I saw a friend of mine posting his list to his blog I decided to steal the idea. So here we go (and the Bible isn’t listed because it’s a given).

Into the Wild – Jon Krakauer

I was assigned this book as a senior in high school and even at the ripe age of seventeen it highlighted an existential crisis I was feeling. Here’s a man bound for success who burns it all to discover what it all really means. Whether you thought he was arrogant or misunderstood, Into the Wild was not only was it the first book I read I was willing to argue for, it was the book that catapulted me back into reading.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower – Stephen Chbosky

It’s a story about a high school freshman struggling to fit in whom, with the help of some misfits friends, finds his place in the world. Something about that hits home with me. Not only do I love the way it’s written (a series of letters to an anonymous receiver) but it was also the first book I read where I felt with the character. I read it in a day and it still stands as my favorite book and, now, movie.

Black Like Me – John Howard Griffin

One of the first books I read when I first started to develop a heart for the Black community. While the story itself is interesting, what impacted me most was his ability to articulate what I felt but was unable to convey in words.

The Fight – John White

The Fight was the first book I read as a new Christian. Practical and encouraging, it gave me hope in how to actually live as a follower of Jesus before my friends and family who may not have totally understood the change that took place in my life. To this day I still buy this book to any new Christian in my sphere of influence.

The Harry Potter Series – J.K. Rowling

Seriously, anyone my age who says they weren’t somehow shaped by Harry Potter is either deprived or lying. Even when I didn’t read Harry Potter was the exception.

The Case for Christ – Lee Strobel

The Case for Christ was the second book I read when I came to faith and it’s still one I go back to. It opened my eyes to see the faith I’ve committed my whole life to isn’t just some “story” but a historical reality. The implications of this book still steal my breath away.

The Irresistible Revolution – Shane Claiborne

Some books you love because it affirms the convictions you already hold deeply in your heart. Others you love because it opens your eyes to something new. The Irresistible Revolution does both and so much more. It’s another one of those books that I’m willing to fight for, as I believe so much of that book is vital to what it means to love Jesus. As much as I love apostolic imagination, prophetic imagination is just as beautiful. I recommend it to Christians and non-Christians alike.

Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria – Beverly Tatum

If Black Like Me was my “what” for the Black community, Tatum’s book was the “why.” I saw so much of my own personal journey/struggle to embrace my ethnic identity in this book. It gave me vocabulary and terminology to explain the complexities at work in being a Black man in America and it’s changed my outlook on the Black community as well as life ever since.

UnChristian – David Kinnaman & Gabe Lyons

What are the first words that come to your mind when you hear the word “Christian?” Well, when asked that question, the words used to describe Christians are actually very UnChristian. As the third book I read when I came to faith, it challenged me to be aware of what people think about me as I share my faith and to do everything in my power to be different from the stereotype.

10. Notes of a Native Son – James Baldwin

The essay that shares this title is the reason why I started writing nonfiction in the first place (Adrienne Rich’s “Split at the Root” reminds me of this as well). It’s the standard to which I measure all my nonfiction essays. Baldwin was the first writer that was able to articulate my feelings on what it meant to be Black in America. In general his thoughts are poignant and his writing is sharp and I want so bad to emulate that.

What about you? What are your ten?