A Light in the Hills

A Look Back at Re-enchanting the World and a Glimpse of What’s Coming

After the Conference

This year’s Re-enchanting the World conference is officially in the books and I’m still chewing on how good it was.

We gathered in Logan, West Virginia, deep in the coalfields, a place that rarely finds itself on anyone’s map for a theology and imagination conference. And yet, for one weekend, it became just that. Folks came from New York, New Jersey, Louisiana, Alabama, and the surrounding tri-state region of Ohio, Kentucky, and Virginia. That alone is astonishing. Things like this just don’t happen here. Not yet, anyway.

Even more humbling, I met people who found me through Substack. That may not sound like much, but it told me something. It told me this little fire we’ve been building together is throwing off more light than I realized. It confirmed that the hunger for re-enchantment isn’t confined to ivory towers or hip cities. It’s alive in the hills. It’s stirring in the pews. And it’s growing.

For a single day, the coalfields became a destination for those wanting to talk about beauty, order, glory, worship, the imagination, and how to live faithfully in an age that feels spiritually grey. Appalachia became a pilgrimage site, not by accident, but by design.

The Talks, the Vision, the Next Steps

We packed nearly four hours of teaching and conversation into the day, featuring talks from C.R. Wiley, S.D. Smith, and myself. Each of us brought something distinct to the table.

Wiley carried the intellectual weight of Lewis and Tolkien, grounding us in the philosophical and theological roots of re-enchantment. Smith brought the fire of the storyteller, the imagination, the mythos, the poetic clarity that awakens wonder. I approached the theme as a pastor, concerned with how these truths shape the church, the home, and the soul.

What emerged was something rare. It’s what I’d describe as a sort of living synthesis of theological imagination, pastoral urgency, and creative vision.

We plan to release the talks and the Q&A later this year. Likely around the Fall, close to All Hallows’ Eve, which feels fitting for a theme like re-enchantment. But we’re not rushing it. That’s intentional.

We want these conferences to be embodied experiences. Not livestreams. Not something you scroll past the next day. We want you to come. To feel the land. To share the table. To experience the magic of a room full of faithful, hungry people gathering under the banner of Christ to recover what has been lost. The Discarded Image, as Lewis called it.

By the time we release the content, we may already have announcements about the 2026 gathering. And yes, plans are already underway. We have potential sponsors. We have people saying they’re bringing full crews next time. Something is forming here and it’s not just a one-time event.

An Answer to Prayer

One moment in particular has stayed with me. At the beginning of his talk, S.D. Smith shared that he has been praying for nearly twenty years for something like this to happen in West Virginia. When he found out what we were doing, he felt that it might be, in some small way, an answer to that prayer.

That landed heavy on me. Not in a burdensome way, but in a clarifying one.

I am a busy man. Husband. Father. Pastor. I work a full-time job. I preach, teach, write, and try to hold a hundred things together each week, like many of you do. But Sam’s words made me stop and ask whether God is calling me to give more of myself to this. Not just as a side project. Not just as a one-time event. But as a sort of vocation.

I've been writing about re-enchantment for years now. And many of you have supported me, shared my work, or even made the trip to Logan to be part of this event. That support has meant more than I can say. Truly.

But I believe it’s time to take a step forward.

What Might This Become?

I don’t know exactly what it looks like yet. I’m praying through it. But here’s what’s stirring in me.

I think it’s time to form something more permanent. I’ve alluded to this in the past. A center, perhaps. A society. A fellowship. A place for fellow travelers to gather. A guild of sorts.

Not just to read my writing, but to hear from others. Not just a place for thinkers, but for makers. A place where Christian artists, musicians, theologians, and homemakers can come together to share their work, shape the imagination, and push back against the grey fog of modernity. Something that unites the hobbits, the elves, the dwarves, and the men of Middle Earth.

Perhaps The Narnian was just the beginning. Perhaps it’s time to get to work.

I’ll share more soon. For now, I simply want to say thank you. For reading. For praying. For showing up. I believe God is doing something here, and I’m honored to have a part in it.

Stay tuned. There’s more coming.