HeyJaredRyan
Pastor, dad of six, and theologian-in-process. I write from the space between longing and grace—where faith wrestles with doubt, theology meets real life, and Jesus keeps chasing us down. Lightly humorous. Deeply hopeful. Occasionally caffeinated.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 7
- Latest publication
- Sep 17, 2026
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- Earliest in this view
- Jul 6, 2026
Latest issues
Singing When You Have Nothing To Sing About (opens the original)
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I have to admit, I get a little suspicious of folks who start praising the Lord before the dust has even settled. Maybe it’s all those years I spent doing security and private investigations before seminary—once you’ve learned to spot a con, you can’t unsee it. Or maybe I’m just wired that way. If someone tells me everything’s fine while the house is clearly on fire, my first thought isn’t faith. It’s, ‘What are you trying to sell me?’ (or at least ‘this person is nuts!’)That’s probably why the
I Am Not Built for Watchtowers (opens the original)
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I am not a patient man. Not even close. I want to say that up front, because everything else I’m about to write depends on you knowing it. If you don’t get this, nothing else I say will make sense (hat tip to Dickens). I am NOT a patient man. I’m the guy who opens the microwave with eleven seconds left on the timer, because eleven seconds is an eternity and I have things to do (also, have you ever noticed that you can never get a Hot Pocket exactly right? They are always either too hot or too co
The Prophet Who Yelled at God (opens the original)
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There’s a prophet buried in the back half of the Old Testament that almost nobody reads, mostly because nobody can find him. I am not joking: if you go flipping through the Old Testament, you are going to skip right over him; the book is that short. And the few who do find him can’t pronounce his name. His name is Habakkuk—which sounds less like a person and more like something you’d say after choking on a pretzel (I’m looking at you, President Bush). I have six children, three boys and three gi
The Kingdom That Doesn’t Need Us to Hold It Together (opens the original)
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I like to think I am a steady person.Levelheaded. Reasonable. Not easily rattled. Brave! Did I mention brave???This assessment of myself usually lasts until I read the news. To be fair, I don’t actually have to read the news. I can just kind of scroll the headlines and lose it.It is then that I discover that my inner peace is apparently held together by two paper clips, a loose piece of string (I was a big MacGyver fan growing up), and whether the latest headline confirms my existing suspicions
Simon’s Dinner Party (opens the original)
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I’ve been reading Paul Tillich’s The New Being slowly this summer — one sermon, sometimes one paragraph, at a time, because that’s the only way Tillich lets you read him without getting a headache. The opening sermon, “To Whom Much Is Forgiven,” is on Luke 7 — the woman who crashes Simon the Pharisee’s dinner party and washes Jesus’ feet with her tears. I’ve preached around this text before. I thought I knew it.I did not know it.Here’s the reading I always carried around in my head: Simon is a r
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