I grew up in a fifth-wheel trailer, a Kountry-Aire built by Amish and Mennonite craftsmen in a factory in Nappanee, Indiana. Until the sixth grade, my family lived on the road, driving from sea to shining sea, a different city or village most every week of the year.

This nomadic life, nurtured within a family who knew how to love, provided me a gift: an opportunity to experience the diversity of land and place, the range of characters and spaces you uniquely encounter if you hitch up the rig every Friday night. Years later, I would discover how hungry I am to experience people and place and story.

From the third grade, I wanted to be a writer. My mom gave me a ragged-out brown Sanger typewriter, the kind traveling salesmen would tote around in the 40’s. I began my first literary work, an autobiography with the understated title, My Life. It was a eight-year-old’s sizzling narrative of dalliances, escapades and wild-living. Perhaps you’ve heard of it. I ran out of material after the first sheet or two.

I've always been clumsy with hammers and power tools, but words have become those trusted friends slung on my utility belt. They've helped me make sense of my life and work, both as a writer and a pastor (and it's often difficult to know which influences the other more). Words help me see the world. They help me ask the questions I simply must ask. Words allow me to put flesh and bone on life – and on faith. As Flannery O'Connor said, "I write to discover what I know."

I prefer writing that is particular, local, immediate. Good words are like good wine: the beauty's in the details and when the stuff flows free, joy and laughter are sure to follow. I've attempted to rouse joy and laughter in various venues. I'm a columnist. I've done a stint as a freelance magazine editor, and I've authored three books. I've written for Washington Post's On Faith, Radiant, Preaching Today, Soul Journey, Relevant, Our Daily Journal, Conversations and a few other places kind enough to take my words and do something with them.

If you want to cut to the core of who I am, I'd say this: I'm husband to the beautiful and graceful Miska Tolleson Collier. Miska is a spiritual director, a poet-mystic and the person I most respect in this world. I'm dad to Wyatt and Seth, two boys who have pulled strands of love out of me that I didn't know existed. They already have fire in their bones, and I'm doing what I can to fan the flame. I'm friend to a few misty-eyed men. I prefer what's slow over what's efficient. I'm suspicious of anyone who's cock-sure. I'm weary of all the bullhorns. I'm partial to things that are worn and a bit ragged. I suspect that truth is best told slant. I believe in hope.

Our family is making a home in Charlottesville, Virginia, where we live in Christian community with a small band of sinners and saints, All Souls Charlottesville.