Formerly Feral Podcast

You were never a wretch.

I think steadily saying something of value can drain a person. Unfortunately, the algorithm demands routine posting and the pressure that comes with it. I’ve learned that pouring from an empty cup can do violence to our souls. So I’ve been away for a bit. The late Blaze Foley sang a song called Clay Pigeons and in it, he sings of being at an intersection, a crisis, a time of searching. A part of the song talking about what he’s going to be up to goes: Feed the pigeons some clay, turn the night into dayAnd start talkin’ again when I know what to say The line about feeding pigeons clay has to do with the fact that they eat clay to help with their digestion. That pause for digesting and processing is a luxury and liberty. I have taken the luxury and liberty this summer. Autumn brings me back to this space with some things to say. I’m happy to find you still here. This is a Substack about living our inherent worth. It will persist in these topics as the pieces I hope to write will orbit around the ideas of flourishing in life from the truth of our God given inherent worth. You were never a wretch Here’s what I’d like to add to the conversation at this time: you were never a wretch. You may not know the reference, but many of you immediately connect with a deep memory. A treasured and fabled hymn of the American church, Amazing Grace, contains the line Amazing grace! How sweet the sound, That saved a wretch, like me! Taking John Newton’s treasured words to task is not something I do lightly, but I feel it’s more than just a trace line in a song; it’s become a mindset that’s thrived and developed beyond its momentary intent. New versions exist You can find adaptations to this line, but you’ll find a pile of pushback to any change of the stone tablets on which hymns have come down from the mountain of our memories. I’m in no way contesting that grace is amazing and a sweet sound, but I have an issue with name-calling apart from the context of John Newton’s abhorrent past. Moreover, projecting that same name-calling forward for all time. Newton, for his part, we assume was meeting his past as a slave trader humbled and transformed by grace. But it can be misleading when applied universally, especially if it leads believers to see themselves as inherently vile rather than deeply loved. The word “wretch” suggests someone utterly despicable, worthless, or beyond hope. But Scripture never describes human beings in such terms from God’s perspective. Even in our sin, we are not worthless—we are wayward children whom God longs to restore. From Genesis to Revelation, the biblical narrative affirms the inherent dignity of humanity, made in the imago Dei—the image of God. Sin distorts that image, but it does not destroy it. God’s gaze toward humanity, even in our rebellion, is not disgust but compassion: “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). Having sung this for years isn’t the crime; the crime is believing it to be true. That God’s image in man was so tarnished that it became unpursuable by the Creator of it. That we are an unworthy wretch in all respects, and not someone for whom God would chase after to save. For some, this has created a way of viewing our need for grace. But that need is present no matter our track record. Read that again. No amount of “unwretched” actions before accepting His grace negates our need for His grace. So, seeing oneself as a wretch to create an indispensability of grace is thoroughly unnecessary. Poetic, maybe, but bad theological scaffolding. I can only guess the reason John Newton wrote the line or why it resonates with our experience. The shame from our past can be powerful, visceral, and defining. However, just because a line of a song lands doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a helpful characterization. Maybe the line has created a higher level of humility for some, but at what cost? I’m afraid it speaks of a way of thinking about ourselves that has terrible downstream consequences. There are more than a few people who believe and live like they are their actions. They try to stack enough good ones to earn respect, honor, esteem, and, sadly, even their salvation. Yes, we need Christ. He achieves for us what our souls could not. But conjuring a flawed definition of man in a lost condition can stay with us for long after we’ve been saved. I’m afraid I know far too many people who aren’t out sinning without a sense of their wrongdoing, but far more who deeply feel God could never forgive them. You were never more than a lost sheep. If that doesn’t satisfy some desire for deep humility, I’m sorry, but I can’t seem to find a God-inspired word to say it more strongly than you were separated from your Creator. God never calls you a wretch. Ever. No matter what state you are in. We were lost sheep for whom God comes, pursues, and reclaims. This should satisfy our need for humility. That God would even think of us is amazing, but He’s never thought of us as a wretch. That has less to do with us and more to do with Him. Be well, friends. Thanks for reading Formerly Feral! This post is public, so feel free to share it. Get full access to Formerly Feral at feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe [https://feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

My most controversial take

I’m going to offer my most controversial take in the three years of doing this Substack: We have to schedule noticing joy and put it on the calendar. I don’t mean create joy, it’s there, I mean merely notice it. In our over-scheduled lives, usually only two things happen: Things we schedule and have to get done, or the things we do to avoid the tasks we have scheduled and need to complete. So we’re either working on tasks or avoiding tasks. It’s working for the man or doom scrolling. Even harder for us In America, noticing joy isn’t encouraged; there’s no money in it. Our economy runs on you and me being dissatisfied with what we presently have. That’s consumer capitalism 101. All advertising is built around one main task: to create desire, meaning you and I are meant to be dissatisfied with our lives. Nothing in our society is designed for you to notice joy; you’re meant to crave endlessly. Another significant point is that we can’t show joy in our quarterly earnings. We all work for organizations or companies that are obsessed with upward growth; joy seems superfluous, unneeded, and reserved only for those who have suffered enough to be rewarded. And this is where joy and worth intersect. If we lack worth, we will struggle to notice joy. Or feel like it’s undeserved. We will take up less space for enjoyment altogether. 1) Noticing Joy counters stress and burnout Modern Life often defaults to being busy. When joy isn't planned, it's easily forgotten or postponed. Or, worse yet, seen as only for the deserving. Intentionally scheduling joy, making it part of your rhythm, not just a reward after exhaustion. You are allowed, you are welcome to it. If you don’t schedule noticing joy, feeling stress will schedule itself.” Scheduled times for noticing joy affirm that joy is essential, not optional. 2) It trains our hearts to notice goodness. Nothing invites this except the last story on the evening news. You know the story about the kid selling lemonade to donate the money to a cause. It’s like news producers think it erases the last 28 minutes of horror porn from around the world. When you plan for joy, you begin to look for it and anticipate it. This rewires your brain to expect beauty, goodness, and grace, even in hard seasons—a practice deeply aligned with Christian hope and gratitude. 3. It honors your limits and humanity You might be saying the work you’re doing is so critical. Jesus came to save the world and had three years to do it. Yet, Jesus took time to eat with friends, attend weddings, rest, and retreat—He modeled a rhythm of joy noticing. When you schedule joy noticing, you're saying, "I'm not a machine; I'm a beloved human." 4. It helps shape a sustainable life of service Without noticing joy, sacrifice turns into resentment. But with joy regularly woven into your Life, you're more energized, generous, and emotionally available for others. Life can become an unending slog in service to the powers that be, who want us to remain restless and dissatisfied with our lives. To exert some control, we have to be intentional. Famously, Christians will proclaim they have joy no matter the circumstances. It’s true that where we can do better is in seeing joy and noticing it as critically important. I’ll quote the sage advice of Ferris Bueller: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." Be well, friends. Get full access to Formerly Feral at feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe [https://feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

What no one warned me about when moving to southern California

When my wife and I told our friends we were moving to Southern California, the list of things I should be concerned about was long. I should worry about wildfires, earthquakes, the homeless crisis, the liberal direction of government, and the immigration crisis. We just passed the one-year mark here, and I realized I wasn’t warned about what’s been the most persistent concern. It’s been said that we humans have a negativity bias. Maybe you know this phrase. Negativity bias is “the human tendency to pay more attention to and give greater weight to negative information and experiences than positive or neutral ones.” Whether you know this term or not, it can explain the lion's share of our conversation topics. I’ve noticed that a lull in conversation will often instinctively produce a story about some awful situation or garden-variety annoyance. Ears perk up, and the spotlight shines bright on the annoyed person talking. The aggravating topic being shared can garner immediate attention. (Psst, the news figured this out a while ago.) There are at least a couple of reasons for a negativity bias: Stronger Emotional Response: Negative experiences elicit a stronger emotional response and can be stored more vividly in memory. In our distracted culture, negativity can be a shortcut to the front of the line for attention. Evolutionary Roots: This bias likely developed as a survival mechanism. Quickly recognizing and responding to threats was crucial for survival, so the brain prioritized processing negative information. However, I’m afraid our bent towards negativity is more ingrained than the phrase negativety-bias can even communicate. We have a negativity obsession. I’ll leave the reasons to others to decide, but having dedicated the early part of my career to news broadcasting, I know that “if it bleeds, it leads.” Media companies fighting for clicks and eyeballs have become dumpster fire specialists, ensuring the all-mighty click-throughs to earn ad revenue. Even if you don’t watch the news, the trauma-bonded public of which we are a part can dictate the conversations we all have. It’s like trying to swim in toxic waters; it gets messy even if you’re not drinking the toxicity before you swim. Why didn’t someone warn me? So, the real thing I never was warned of or could have anticipated was becoming interested in flowers. These massive blooms with arrestingly beautiful, vivid colors will force me to stop what I’m doing, or where I will take a picture. Why didn’t anyone warn me I’d be gobsmacked by such color and beauty? That I’d become a victim of their displays. Don’t they care about my well-being? My lost work time and slower commute are among the concerns they didn’t alert me to. Please think of the literal minutes I’ve lost to looking at a screen. What you look for shows up, or often doesn’t I’m having a little fun here, but the phrase “where focus goes, energy flows.” The phrase means: “the direction of your attention dictates how your energy is channeled and utilized. Concentrating on something specific will direct your mental and physical energy towards that focus.” But Rob, you should probably be concerned about those things. You mean the things that might happen? But the concerns aren’t actual flowers. Flowers are happening. Not another “be present” piece The number of messages today that tell us to be present is staggering, but the idea isn’t to be ignored. Are we looking for the beauty? If we’re not, we may not even see it when it shows up. Below are a few of my favorite explosions of reckless blooms. There’s beauty where you are, I hope you look for it as much as what there is to fear. Be well, friends. Get full access to Formerly Feral at feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe [https://feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

The God who watches sparrows

The fact that the bible says God watches the sparrows should surprise me more than it does. Folks who call themselves birders often don’t care much about sparrows. When someone sees me carrying my camera, the first assumption is that I’m bird watching. (Second, that I’m paparazzi lol) I will often get stories about them seeing a bald eagle. It’s fine, but can I tell you I’ve never gotten a sparrow story? Not once. Lol Here are a few sparrows I’ve seen. There might be as many as 13 near where you live. Take notice, and when you do, join the God of the universe who prizes sparrows as much as eagles. What does that mean to you in your life? I think we all would prefer to have the consideration, attention, or reputation of eagles. Reaching to be an eagle is fine, but even if you make it, God’s care for you doesn’t increase. It’s set for all time in the sparrows as much as the eagles. I think that with our careers, there are private moments of plotting and hoping for greatness, notice, or esteem. In all of these moments, there can lie an unspoken desire to separate ourselves from the garden variety of the world—a harmless ambition to make a mark and do something special. The challenge for us is to delineate that desire from our value. Whether we succeed or not, our worth is set. We are considered. More than that, we are valued, looked after, and loved by the God of the universe. Much of our life, and the voices within it, try to convince us otherwise. A steady drumbeat reminder that we, in our most common and ignorable, overlooked ordinariness, are intrinsically loved and watched should buoy our hearts as we reach for heights. A magazine we hadn’t ordered, subscribed to, or requested arrived in our mailbox a few weeks ago. It sat on our kitchen table a few days with an array of other discardable pieces of advertising disguised as personal mail. The main article featured on the front was titled In Pursuit of Awe. I both recognized the sentiment and judged it to be deeply flawed. I have pursued awe. I’ve tried to instigate awe in others by something in myself. What I’ve learned is that if I sit still, awe tends to show up. God’s interest in sparrows is encouraging and a point of correction in all our pursuits. Awe is uncovered in the everyday as much as the faraway. This can be encouraging for the adventure seekers and the aspirational. The highest judge of beauty has rapt attention on what we ignore. I want to sit with that and let it guide my pursuits for moments of eagle soaring. There’s nothing wrong with maximizing our efforts for greatness, but let this be a helpful reminder that at the end of all those efforts, as we stand in our often normal, unremarkable outcomes, the attention of the Creator is still cheering for us, noting His handiwork in what is overlooked, even by us. Be well, friends. Get full access to Formerly Feral at feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe [https://feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]

Shared reverence

I started riding a bike for my commute. Please don’t be impressed. It’s a pedal-assist cargo e-bike, so I’m not exerting myself too much. It’s a grocery getter, short-haul carrier bike that might be the most middle-aged purchase I’ve ever made. But the wind in my face, safely navigating around my neighborhood, town, and beyond has been a nice experience. Mostly. I live where the weather favors biking or what I’ll call “exposed to the weather” travel. As a result, many other forms of transportation and hauling are used. It’s nothing to see electric scooters, skateboards, or pushcarts that sell elote, ice cream, and fruit. There are Latina grandmothers with repurposed baby strollers that hold their groceries. I once saw a guy pushing a shopping cart with materials he used for a remodeling project. Formerly Feral is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. There are lots of people out of the cocoon of a car. They’re walking, single-wheel zooming, and generally making their way to wherever, with whomever is doing the same. As one of them, I’ve noticed a funny thing that happens as I ride along: shared reverence. As we pass one another, there’s a nod, wave, or smile. It happens in boating on lakes, among Jeep drivers, and in the motorcycle community. The subtext feels like this: Another person is trying to get somewhere just like me. I’ve found myself thinking of these everyday people differently. I’m softer towards them. The shared struggle is out in the open, so a kind of microdose of care seems to go out to them as we travel together. Moreover, passing vehicles honor our efforts to navigate the world in this exposed way. They often give us the right of way and provide a wide berth as they pass. There are exceptions, moments when a car aggressively accelerates to get around me as if to say, “Get a horse pal!” but in general we all kind of feel gently considered. Since I landed in this community of exposed travel later in life, I feel this subtle sense of respect for humanity a bit more acutely. I don’t usually see and honor others in my car unless I know them. Conversely, in the insulated kingdom of my car, I find opposition, competition, and a lack of regard for others. There are remarkable exceptions, but I find it interesting that all it takes is one layer of distance between us and others dissolving to make the shared reverence easier to feel. The insulated travel I do supports an illusion. The illusion that we’re separate. You’re over there, I’m over here, we are not the same. Even further, the brand or age of our car can add to the imagined separation. Don’t get me started on a license plate from another state or heaven forbid a bumper sticker with a hot take. In our moving boundaries we slowly become less willing to acknowledge we’re “in this together” and instead can invest in “othering” people. This is further supported when we tap a button inside our cars, drive into our garages, enter our homes. There is a screen that delivers a pale substitute for human interaction for the evening. Maybe we live lives of quiet designed desperation. I don’t have a fix for this, suggesting one is so profoundly out of touch with the massive current of progress and modernity. I merely want to encourage myself to be aware of all the insulating layers that keep me one step removed from the people of the world around me. These are sometimes unavoidable, so the move may be to be intentional about peeling back the layers when the opportunity presents itself. Even as the more wealthy and advanced among us find chartered flights and security fences to be a god-like insulating move, I can do well to remember often that the real God came to live among us and to save the worst of us. So identified was he with those he traveled with that it took a kiss to single him out from among them. Be well friends. Formerly Feral is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Formerly Feral at feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe [https://feralsoul.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4]