Resurrection (Part 5 of 5 of the Shadow Series)
The story of resurrection isn’t about getting back what you lost.I t’s about becoming who you were always meant to be. It’s about letting the old self die…So something new can live.
He Walked Out of the Tomb
They took everything from him.
His freedom. His voice. His family. His name.
In 1964, Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison by the apartheid regime in South Africa. He was 46 years old. He would not be released until he was 71.
Twenty-seven years.
Most of them on Robben Island, in an eight-by-seven-foot cell with no bed, no plumbing, and a bucket in the corner.
He was forced to break rocks in the sun, denied visitors, and nearly forgotten by the outside world.
He entered that prison as a revolutionary.
He emerged as a sage.
When he was finally released in 1990, he didn’t seek revenge.
He didn’t come out with rage or retribution in his eyes.
He came out… changed.
He forgave the system that broke him.
He embraced reconciliation over retaliation.
And just four years later, he was elected President of South Africa in the first multiracial democratic election the country had ever seen.
That wasn’t a comeback.
That was a resurrection.
Harry Potter Had to Die
It’s the final book. The final battle. And Harry learns the truth.
He has to die.
He descends into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, unarmed, unshielded, ready to be killed by Voldemort.
And he is.
But then… he wakes up.
He’s not dead. Not fully.
He’s in some kind of in-between place. He meets Dumbledore. He understands what must come next.
He goes back. Changed.
Not just alive—transformed. More powerful. More fearless.
That wasn’t a twist.
That was a resurrection.
We Keep Telling This Story
This pattern is everywhere:
Gandalf the Grey becomes Gandalf the White.
Beowulf descends to the underwater cave to face the monster mother.
Luke descends into the Emperor’s throne room and emerges changed.
Neo dies and comes back as The One.
Moana meets the lava monster and returns the heart—realizing the monster is a goddess.
Elsa is consumed by grief, then reborn into her true power.
Katniss is broken, buried, and reawakened by purpose.
Tony Stark snaps his fingers and dies—but his death restores life to the universe.
And, of course...
Jesus Walks Out of the Tomb
Regardless of how it does or doesn’t impact your personal belief system, it’s hard to deny the power of that story.
Beaten mercilessly.
Executed by empire.
Betrayed by friends.
Abandoned by his followers.
Laid in a tomb.
Dead.
And three days later…
When the women come to anoint the body, an angel tells them:
“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. He has risen.”
That’s the question, isn’t it?
Why do we keep looking for life in things that are already dead?
Why do we cling to identities, roles, stories that no longer fit?
Why do we sit beside the tomb, waiting for something to come back, when it’s already moved on?
The story of resurrection isn’t about getting back what you lost.
It’s about becoming who you were always meant to be.
It’s about letting the old self die…
So something new can live.
My Resurrection
Most of you know I began my career as an evangelical pastor.
And that I am no longer one: an evangelical or a pastor.
That story was my most prominent shadow story to date.
I had to untangle the beliefs I was given—and had fully believed and built my whole life and ego on—only to realize they weren’t really mine.
That was beyond scary.
I had to fall to the depths and let go of all certainty in my faith.
For me, this also meant letting go of my career.
My education? Useless.
My experiences? Barely applicable.
My own spiritual peace? Evaporated.
I had to die.
And I had to do it alone. Or at least it felt that way.
(It always does.)
But my story was more of a Mandela resurrection than a Jesus one.
My tomb was closer to 25 years than three days.
And my resurrection was more of a slow decomposition followed by an even slower reconstruction.
Until at some point, I felt rebuilt in my beliefs.
At peace again.
Not who I was—
But more me than I had ever been.
For the last decade or more, I knew I wanted to speak openly about faith. Doubt. Deconstruction. Mystery.
But I wasn’t ready.
Not because I didn’t believe it.
Because I was afraid.
Afraid of letting people down.
Afraid of losing relationships, reputation, or work.
Afraid of who I’d be on the other side.
So last week, I moved the final stone away.
I started a new Substack, like this one, to tell my full story—
In hopes that I could help others who might be entombed in their own questions and doubts. Not to convince anyone of anything. Just to create a space for questions.
Finally past my anger, regret, fear, and insecurities enough to—like Mandela—
Walk out of the prison with no agenda other than to be present and useful.
Starting my new work* wasn’t just launching a Substack.
It was walking out of my own tomb.
Joseph Campbell might say it’s finally time for me to bring the boon, the elixir, back to my own people—the once-convinced, now-confused, lonely mask wearers.
And on the other side of that death?
There’s been life.
More honesty. More connection. More peace.
And a few weeks in, hundreds of people who feel less alone now.
Because I finally told the truth.
I stopped looking for the living among the dead.
If you’re in that in-between space…
The darkness is lifting. It always does.
You don’t have to go back to who you were.
You actually can’t, even if you want to.
You get to be who you’ve been becoming all along.
And if you’re not there yet—
It just means your Easter morning is coming.
When death does its full work, then life emerges.
Always.
P.S. About my new Substack:
I linked to it below in case you’re curious. A few quick notes before you click:
It’s for people actively deconstructing their faith. I’m brutally honest there—sometimes more honest than people who’ve known me for years are ready for.
There’s a strict “no evangelizing” rule—including from me. I genuinely don’t care what you believe. I’m building a space where questions matter more than answers, and personal stories matter more than dogma.
If that sounds like something you need, you’re invited. If not, feel free to just stick with me here. That’s better for both of us.
Oh, and a heads-up—if you subscribe, I write there as often as I do here. That’s a lot of Joe in your inbox. You’ve been warned. 😉
It’s called Deconstructed Pastor. You can find it here.