I was raised by wolves.  Just kidding.  But I was not raised in a context anchored to any tradition.  My spiritual formation took place in a non-denominational Bible church.  I was raised by a single mom who remarried after my dad died.  Even after my mother remarried, I had little to no stability in my childhood.

So now fast-forward a few decades and I have planted a non-denominational church that for better or worse has to endure some of my quirkiness.  I didn’t even mention that it was Palm Sunday last week.  ‘Holy Week’ creeps up on me, much like Lent.

I have a theological aversion to professionalism.  And I will defend that value all day.  But there is something soft in my heart toward some of the old school traditions and cadences that I wish had been instilled in me in my youth.  I am not proud to lack a rich heritage or depth of tradition.  I think I am missing something for not having experienced that part of this ancient faith.

I guess this blog is a bit of an apology to my church.  I am not trying to make a point when I skip mentioning Palm Sunday or Lent, or Mother’s Day . . . Wait is Father’s Day coming up!?

The way I am wired has flavored our fellowship as I said earlier, “for better or worse.”  And that in itself is a scary part of planting a church.  My idiosyncrasies abound.

I would encourage families to lean into and study church traditions with their children.  It is good to be connected to a tradition extending back further than 2009.  I am grateful for the church history that has come before ReCAST!  And I just might eventually become more traditional.  I wonder if that change will come in time for my funeral?