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Junkyard Monk

An earlier post mentioned that my tools for spiritual growth had stopped working. Don’t freak out. My faith isn’t broken. But the disciplines need a rebuild. 

I’ve tinkered with just about every brand of Christian spiritual practice: Ignatian, Franciscan, Puritan, Benedictine, Charismatic, Baptist, Anglican, Quaker, Eastern Orthodox, Methodist, and my favorite, Celtic Christianity.

Each has its own strength, but sometimes it feels like I’m rummaging through a toolbox with no idea which wrench actually fits.

So I started wondering…what would Junkyard Wisdom™ spiritual disciplines look like? Could I pull parts from all these traditions and weld it into something that actually ran?

After five minutes (or five weeks, depending on who’s asking), I made a list of practices that have roots in long traditions but feel more, well, junkyard-ish. They should or could draw me closer to God.

I’m not saying I will do all this—it’s both exhaustive and exhausting—but it makes me smile even as it challenges me. Here’s the list:

Prayer and Daily Rhythm (From Celtic, Benedictine, and Ignatian traditions among others):

  • Pray the Hours: Not like a monk locked in a stone cell. More like a guy muttering a Psalm between Zoom calls or while waiting for the Starbucks barista to hurry.
  • Breath Prayers: “Christ before me, Christ behind me” in traffic. Or “Jesus, help me not throttle this guy” when the contractor bails for the third time.
  • Examen at Night: Right before crashing into bed, ask, “Where did I spot God in the chaos today? And where did I totally blow it?”

Scripture and Imagination (Celtic and Ignatian traditions):

  • Memorize: Slap a short Psalm on the computer screen. Say it out loud when the day gets stupid.
  • Enter the Story: Read a Gospel passage and play the part of the clueless disciple in the corner. Smell the fish. Feel the dust. Cringe at the awkwardness.
  • Tell Stories: Around the dinner table, in a boardroom, or over a beer. Scripture comes alive when it blindsides us with grace in the middle of real life.

Community and Relationships (Celtic and Anglican traditions):

  • Relational Discipleship: Walk alongside someone younger in the faith. Skip the formal program. Make it messy and real—over burgers, playing pool, or while watching a game on TV.
  • Anamchara: For me, my buddy Mark knows my dumb side, not just my highlights. In his loving way, he calls me out when I need it. (If you don’t know what the word means, Google it.)
  • Public Faith: Enough with “quiet time” in a corner. That always sucked for me. Instead, know my neighbors. All of them. Even the ones whose names I can’t pronounce. Especially them.

Pilgrimage and Encounter (Celtic tradition):

  • Peregrinatio: Wander without something stuck in my ear, without a map, without a goal. Let God ambush me on the detour. (It’s okay if this is another word you need to Google.)
  • Thin Places: Return often to the spots that split my heart open. Remember the people I love when I’m there.
  • Fasting & Hardship: Skip a meal. Sweat through a hard hike. Go a day without caffeine. Remind my body it’s not the boss.

Service, Mission, and Creation Care (Franciscan and Ignatian traditions):

  • Serve Somebody: Tutor a kid, feed the hungry, sit with the lonely. Not for the halo points—but because Jesus always shows up in the overlooked.
  • Creation Care: Plant something. Drive less. Buy local. Treat the planet like it’s rented, not owned.
  • Care for the Poor: Don’t just give a few bucks to a beggar. Use my gifts, my training, my experience, and my expertise to truly help the poor. More importantly, keep the poor in my prayers and my decisions.

Generosity (Across all traditions):

  • Give Like It’s Muscle Memory: Don’t wait to “feel led.” Decide and commit. Make generosity the baseline, not the stretch goal.
  • Outrageous Hospitality: Find a way to gather the odd mix—skeptics, neighbors, misfits, friends. Watch generosity multiply through laughter and acceptance.
  • Reflect: End the day asking, “Did I live open-handed today? Or did I hold onto a bunch of junk like it was gold?”

Storytelling (My personal addition to the list):

  • Hospitality Through Words: Writing is like a dinner table. Set the plates, open the door, invite people in, and don’t complain when they leave a mess I have to clean up.
  • Vulnerability & Humility: Don’t play the hero. Tell the story where I fell flat on my face—and grace still showed up.
  • Community Feedback: Share drafts. Take the hits. Let others poke holes in my words. It stings, but it keeps me honest. Remember, every paragraph is a chance to pass along wisdom salvaged from the junkyard—or confess my cluelessness. Either way, it could be a gift to someone, so make it good.

So that’s my list. What would yours look like?