And now we're trying to start a brewery in the heart of Austin. To understand how we got to this point, you probably need to know how life has shaped us over the past 25 years...
Chapter 1: Software
As I mentioned above, my first real career was in software. When the Internet exploded in the mid-90s, I was perfectly positioned. With six years of experience under my belt, I had just learned a brand new language called Java, and my skills were suddenly in high demand. You could pretty much punch your own ticket back then, and many of us did.
I was living near Seattle at the time, telecommuting for start-ups down in Silicon Valley, regularly rubbing shoulders with some of the smartest people on the planet. (Incidentally, this was when I discovered the world of craft beer: first Guinness, then local favorites like Red Hook ESB and Alaskan Amber – it rains a LOT in the Pacific Northwest; it's hard not to like beer when sitting in a pub, down by the docks, writing code while it pours outside).
But here's what I learned from all that. I was really, really good at what I did. But I wasn't very happy. I loved working with bright, creative people, but 80 hour weeks take their toll. We were all chasing success, and I knew many who got it – at the expense of their health, marriages, families. I worked for two companies that went under. And even when they didn't, everything we were doing was obsolete within five years.
Wanting something more out of life, I decided to invest in people.
Chapter 2: Ministry
And so I began my second real career: ministry. I landed a job that would let me sling code on the side, while putting myself through seminary. After 4 years in Philadelphia (living in the inner city was every bit as formative as my theological studies) I received my Masters of Divinity (ah, the irony!) in 2006. We moved to Missoula, MT to plant a church from scratch for people who had given up on church. And that's exactly what happened.
Ministry was incredibly satisfying for me. I got to help people whose lives were filled with questions, doubts, and struggles (just like mine) – about God, about themselves. Curiously, the people we connected with best weren't church folks at all. They were un-churched, de-churched, burned-by-church. Many hadn't been in church in years, if ever. Some of them were Christians, but plenty were not.
Almost all of them, however, were wrestling with life's big questions: Where do I find meaning, value, and purpose? How do I deal with brokenness, in myself and in others? Where can I find hope for change? And how does God (if he's even there) fit into all of this?
I certainly didn't have all the answers, but it was a privilege to help people figure out what they believed. I found it very fulfilling. And I learned a lot from my time in ministry:
- First, as a pastor, it was gratifying to discover I had as many friends who didn't share my faith as those who did. Some eventually visited (or even joined) our church, but many never did. Our friendship wasn't contingent on that, and they knew it. We never focused on trying to get people into pews; rather, we set out to be good friends with all sorts of people, regardless of their spiritual convictions (or lack thereof). That was the heart of it, really: creating a community of friends where it was safe to be yourself.
- Second, I realized just how much “ministry” happened in public rather than in sacred space: we met people where they were at, honest conversations over coffee, lunch and beers (we spent a lot of time in taprooms). We threw parties. We got to know folks. We asked questions. We listened well. We celebrated common passions (like our love for music and great food). We worked on common causes (like helping our neighbors in need). We set out to make our city an even better place than it already was. People appreciated all those things.
- Third, I fell in love with craft brewing. (Brewing: it's hard not to get into making beer when your friends are really good at it, especially when you start growing your own hops and find you can create something as good as anything in the stores – but also Craft: it's what happens when you start working that creative intentionality into every facet of your life.)
- Perhaps most significantly, I began to see a new role for me beyond the walls of a church. I got to know Bjorn, founder of Big Sky Brewing, in 2010 when I approached him with a crazy idea – I wanted him to brew a beer called All Souls Ale (a nod to our church), and then give all the proceeds to Imagine Missoula (the non-profit we had started). No one had ever asked them for anything like that (let alone a church!). But Bjorn said “Yes!”, and a fascinating partnership was born: a church working with a brewery to bless their community. Our friendship blossomed too, and last spring it came into full bloom.
“Why don't you start a brewery?” asked Bjorn. “You'd be good at it. And I'd like to help you!”
And that's why we've come to Austin. I don't know if I'll ever get to pastor another church. But I do have a strong sense of what I'm supposed to do next...
Chapter 3: Tentmaking (or “Beer & Jesus”)
We want our brewery to be a small, neighborhood, taproom that doesn't just make great beer (definitely that!), but also creates great space. Our focus is on-premise experience (to sell pints rather than distribute widely). We want to bring people together: to make the drinks that get them talking; to do it profitably, so we can support our employees and their families; to give back to the communities in which we live.
And why the name? (if you're wondering what it is, ask me).
Well, it comes from the Bible: he was a guy Jesus raised from the dead. But why name a brewery after him?
Quite simply, we like the name a lot. I think it's strong. Memorable. It has a certain ring to it. I like the imagery (death to life). And I like the irony (modern brewing has Christian roots, and here's a brewery being founded by a pastor, for Pete's sake!). Plus I like the optimism (inherently hopeful).
Mostly, though, it's just us: we think it captures who we are, where we've come from, and where we're headed. This will probably be our biggest challenge yet. And we certainly can't do it on our own.
If this idea intrigues you and you'd like to learn more about how to help, we'd love to talk...
