Recently a Facebook friend called me a “tentmaker theologian.” I like that. It has a nice ring to it. I wish I had thought of it myself. 
In the Acts of the Apostles, we learn an interesting fact about the Apostle Paul (who, I believe, was the first Christian mystic who did not know Christ personally prior to the crucifixion). In addition to his profound spirituality, life-risking journeys to proclaim the good news in Christ, and his profound theological writings, Paul was a perfectly ordinary guy who made tents for a living.
Now, I don’t make tents, and I’d rather not presume to call myself a mystic or even a theologian. But like Paul, I am a “working guy” — I manage the book department of a monastery gift shop for a living. It’s a wonderful job, and I feel privileged to work alongside monks every day. From where I sit, having a blog or a website — as well as teaching classes, conducting retreats, or writing books about topics such as Christian mysticism or Celtic spirituality — are not “what I do” so much as expressions of “who I am.” I’m a husband, father, friend. I’m a bookseller. I’m a Christian — an imperfect person who finds meaning and hope through Jesus and the wisdom of so many of his friends and followers over the centuries, especially those who have come to be called the mystics. And because of my love for Christ, my fascination with the wisdom tradition that bears his name, and my otherwise rather ordinary and down-to-earth life, I seek to find transformation, healing, meaning, and purpose through spiritual practices that have been endorsed and promoted by the great mystics. These include sacred reading (lectio divina), contemplative prayer, embracing of silence, solitude, and simplicity, and participation in the community of faith.
Devoting one’s life to contemplative prayer and to the wisdom of the great mystics does not require anything extraordinary. One does not need to be ordained, or certified, or qualified. It doesn’t matter if you have any little letters strung along behind your name or not. You don’t need to have spent several years travelling around the world or living in an intentional community off the coast of Turkey. All that matters, ultimately, is the desire of your heart. If, late at night, you lie in your bed and recognize that there is something restless in your heart that yearns for the rest that can only be found in the Divine Mystery, than you’ve got the goods. All the rest is just window dressing.
Oh, but this page is about me, right? Right. So here are the facts and figures: I grew up in Virginia, but now live just outside of Atlanta, Georgia. I have two degrees in English — the Master of Arts is in Professional Writing and Editing. I’ve always lived a rather middle-class, suburban life; when I was a young adult this bugged me, but now I realize that its very normalcy is a spiritual discipline all its own. Speaking of spirituality, I was raised in a Lutheran family, and then after a rather mind-expanding experience of the presence of God when I was 16, I briefly hung out with charismatics and neopentecostals — but I became disillusioned with the infighting between mainstream Christians and charismatics, to the point that I chose to react against religion and spent my college years doing the hedonistic thing. After college I became something of a spiritual wanderer, knocking about with Anglicans, Wiccans, Druids, Deadheads, exploring some traditions more fully than others (I was a practicing Episcopalian for almost 10 years), and reading about still other paths that I didn’t actually hang out with (Buddhism, Quakerism). Through all my wanderings, a book I read the summer after I graduated from high school — Evelyn Underhill’s Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Spiritual Consciousness — kept functioning as a sort of spiritual north star for me, and no matter where I hung my hat, I kept wanting to drink more deeply from the wells of mysticism in general, and Christian mysticism in particular.
So in 2005 I entered the Catholic Church. Catholicism is as imperfect as any other wisdom tradition, but its imperfections I seem to be able to live with; and meanwhile, the depth and beauty and glory of this particular tradition — and particularly of Benedictine and Cistercian monasticism, which I have found deeply nourishing since I started hanging out with the Trappists — has done two wonderful things for me: it has finally given me a “location” where I can attend to that long-standing love for the mystics and their teaching, and — surprise, surprise — it has called me, challenged me, supported me to finally get serious about responding to the call to be a disciple, follower, and lover of Christ.
Now, about my writing. My first book, Spirituality, came out in 1997 (but get the 2008 edition, which has a new introduction). Nine more books followed between 2000 and 2005. My books represent the topography of my wandering, visible even in the titles: 366 Celt, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Paganism, When Someone You Love is Wiccan, The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Celtic Wisdom. When I entered the church, I took a couple of years off from book-writing, and concentrated on this website instead. But then an editor with whom I worked on two of my books called me up to see how I was doing… and out of that conversation was born my eleventh book, The Big Book of Christian Mysticism.
Originally I started my website (which eventually morphed into a blog) to promote my books. Now, it seems like the books promote the blog, since I have a larger (and more interactive!) readership online than I’ve enjoyed in print (at least so far). No matter. I love the daily, conversational feel of blogging, and I also am old-fashioned enough to prefer books made out of dead trees to the kind you download to your iPad or Kindle (but, yes, I do read ebooks too). The real point is not whether I’m writing a book or a blog post. What I try to do is pretty much the same, regardless of the medium: I try to share, as honestly as I can, my love for the splendor of spirituality, the wisdom of mysticism, the beauty of the Celtic world, and the integrity of a religious practice that is open to interfaith, emergent and integral models of theology and spirituality.
If you’ve read this far, I hope that means you’ll find this website, and my writing, interesting enough to join in to the conversation. I’m honored that you’re here, and I hope you’ll find something either here or in my books that may be of some small use to you as you continue your own unique journey into the Mystery of Divine Love.
If you want to be in touch, please use the Contact page. I’m sorry that I don’t have time to reply to all the messages and mail I receive, but I do take reader feedback seriously and I appreciate your words. You can also connect with me on Facebook or on Twitter. Check out my Schedule page to see if I’ll be at an event near you. If you want to support my work, the best thing you can do is buy a book from my Amazon Store — it doesn’t have to be by me!
Many blessings to you, and thank you for reading.
Carl
