The Pacific Northwest is my context. It has been my home for my entire life—and it’s my culture. I was a teenager when the grunge movement started, and I still have Kurt Cobain’s haircut. I didn’t grow up in the church, but I found faith on the cusp of adulthood. I’ve always said my worldview is a funky mashup of fatalistic grunge culture and historic biblical Christianity.
Think angsty white Jesus in flannel with some trauma.
They say the PNW is the “wild west” of religion—the “none zone”—a place where you can find every spiritual, religious, nonreligious, quasi-religious, trans-religious, anti-religious, and irreligious expression imaginable. I know plenty of people who’ve dabbled in multiple… sometimes all at once.
Heck, most of the Christians I know don’t go to church.
And this context is perfect for my faith and calling.
I’m deeply committed to my Christian faith, love my small faith community, and am anchored in the Wesleyan tradition—though admittedly a bit on the periphery of denomination or organized religion. I’ve spent most of my vocational life teaching historic Christian spirituality, presiding over religious services, and pastoring people through the complexity of faith and life.
I journey with so many Christians who don’t—or won’t—go to church. Most often, it’s because of church trauma, the general beauty of being outdoors on the weekend, or the hustle of raising kids in this modern time. I don’t blame them. All of that catches up to me, too. But I still believe we are always being formed, and historic Christianity has something to offer them.
My own digital faith
Over the years, my daily spiritual practice migrated to my smartphone. A Bible app replaced the tangible book, audiobooks took over for devotionals, and the Insight Timer app began guiding my prayer. In 2019, I found myself between communities. My role as a campus pastor and professor had ended, and my house church had imploded. I was increasingly disconnected from the traditional structures that once gave expression to my pastoral and teaching gifts. I grieved the loss of my daily pastoral vocation—and yet, I sensed God calling me to rest, heal, and learn.
Just before the pandemic lockdowns, I haphazardly borrowed a microphone from a friend, filled out the Insight Timer teacher profile, and logged in. I had used the app for my own spiritual practice, and I had a hunch that my approach to faith might contribute to this unique community.
Insight Timer has 30 million users and 20,000 teachers. Every religious and spiritual tradition you can imagine is represented. With one click, you can explore the world of religious and spiritual movements, methods, and philosophies.
And this context is perfect for my faith and calling.
I find deep resonance between modern mindfulness and Wesleyan spirituality. I’m not the teacher who will guide you into the deepest place of meditation—but I do offer a kind of grounded, accessible presence. Online ministry has become a space that values my gifts, my questions, and my particular voice. I needed the vastness of the internet to find my place. I write the meditations I need. I meet live with people on Thursday mornings. I build courses that emerge from my own questions and longings.
Digital is my new ministry space
My preaching and teaching have always been tied to my personal journey—my spiritual ups and downs, wonderings and doubts, celebrations and grief. I don’t know how to do it any other way. My online ministry is no different.
Ash Wednesday this year I had 200 users across the platform engage my work. There is no way I could have done that in Portland at my church. The digital space has opened up my ability to live into my calling. One recent user reviewed a meditation on Ephesians and said, “Your guided meditations on scriptures help me connect in a much deeper and more personal level. You are teaching me how to read and contemplate God’s word. Thank you!”
I never imagined I’d reach a point where I needed—and had—a professional network that truly understands, values, and supports this work. The Phygital Fellows dive into the nerdy details of algorithms, expand my imagination around what’s possible on my platform, and challenge me to see my work in deeper, more meaningful ways.
So this is my hope: I may never meet most of these people in person, but digital ministry lets me show up in a way that fits my context.
· My most consistent live participants are from the Pacific Northwest.
· Friends and acquaintances who’ve left the church still engage my meditations.
· People at my small church now include Insight Timer in their daily rhythms.
· I get a disproportionate number of followers and reviews from the West Coast.
I’m more convinced than ever that showing up online is a faithful way to minister in the Pacific Northwest.
Because honestly, if you squint at Insight Timer just right, it kind of looks like Portlandia in an app.
I think what I love the most about Jess’s story is that, instead of building something from the ground up, he’s using a tool that he had personally found value in. Innovation isn’t always making something from nothing, but it can be finding the gaps in what already exists and filling them.
“The digital space has opened up my ability to live into my calling.”
That sums it up, yep.