Ryan Tinetti
14 min read ⭑
“My deep and abiding passion is to help believers cherish how, on account of Christ, their ‘little’ lives and labors are not in vain. Hope flows from that confidence.”
Ryan Tinetti believes there is no task more vital than preaching the Good News of Jesus to this world — and there’s nothing he enjoys doing more. Before becoming Concordia Seminary’s assistant professor of practical theology, Ryan was a parish pastor for 14 years, learning the art of translating complex theology into everyday language. He compiled these lessons into his book Preaching by Heart, and in his most recent release, The Quiet Ambition, he explores how Christians can find joy and meaning in the small and mundane parts of life.
Today, Ryan shares with us the power of a well-cooked bacon burger and an IPA, the unexpected joy he finds in mucking out his family’s hen house and why his insecurities from childhood still rear their ugly head from time to time. You’ll also discover the spiritual habits and resources that drive him, like prayer walking in the dark of the early morning and Eugene Peterson’s oft-overlooked works.
QUESTION #1: ACQUAINT
Food is always about more than food; it’s also about home and people and love. So how does a go-to meal at your favorite hometown restaurant reveal the true you behind your web bio?
St. Louis is famous for being the hometown of global beer kingpin Budweiser, but one of our favorite places to eat is the pub of a local brewery called Schlafly. My wife, Anne, and I would often visit with friends when we were first married in 2007. I was a seminary student, and she was a teacher. No kids yet. Some of my fondest memories involve enjoying an IPA, a bacon burger and great company at Schlafly.
In 2010, I graduated from seminary, and we moved out west, where I was called to serve a Lutheran church in California. I subsequently would be called to congregations in Washington State and northern Michigan. Meanwhile, four kids came along — and with them, a lot of joyous (and challenging) times together as a family.
Last year, I was called back to St. Louis, where I now teach at Concordia Seminary, the same school I graduated from. I love my work, and the move has been accompanied by unexpected blessings, but it’s still been hard. Every move is. It takes time to acquaint, or reacquaint, with a place. We’re getting there.
The other day, I took the family out to dinner at Schlafly. I ordered a bacon burger and an IPA. Surrounded by the great company of my wife and kids, I offered up a quiet prayer of thanks. The meal was so good. It started to taste like home.
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QUESTION #2: REVEAL
What “nonspiritual” activity have you found to be quite spiritual, after all? What quirky proclivity, out-of-the-way interest or unexpected pursuit refreshes your soul?
I never expected the satisfaction I would feel mucking out a hen house. My family has kept chickens, off and on, for over a decade. They are low-maintenance creatures, all things considered. Keep them fed and watered. Gather up the eggs. Discourage too much broodiness.
The job that nobody in the family wanted was cleaning out the coop. We’ve typically had between six and eight hens. Not a huge flock, but enough to make a mess over time. Imagine your living room doubling as your bathroom. Yeesh. But I agreed to take on the chore. That is the sort of thing dads do, right?
To my great surprise, I found it to be a gratifying and even meditative enterprise. You put on your gloves and work clothes, which feel like armor. You grab your shovel or pitchfork, the tools of the trade. And then you get to work clearing out the old bedding material, removing manure and cleaning the nesting boxes. The chickens cluck away — in approval or anger, I can’t say which — as you replace the waste with new bedding. I savor the smell of fresh pine shavings.
This is small-scale homesteading, to be sure, and if I had to do much more of it — or as a significant part of my livelihood — I might not have such rosy associations. But for me, caught up as I so often am in the life of the mind and the spirit, I relish the tangibility of it. And I am grateful for the reminder that we have a Lord who entered into the muck and mess of our world once, and who enters into it still.
QUESTION #3: CONFESS
Every superhero has a weakness; every human, too. We’re just good at faking it. But who are we kidding? We’re all broken and in this thing together. So what’s your kryptonite and how do you confront its power?
I don’t aspire to be “that dad” at Little League games. You know the guy: the one who’s hollering at the umpire, complaining about his kid’s playing time to the coach and getting into arguments with other parents. But at a game not long ago, I was that dad — and it gave me some unwelcome insight into my soul.
You should know I’m not the most physically imposing guy in the world. At this point in my life, I’m about average height (5’9”), but as a kid, I was always lagging behind my peers. I dreaded when teams would be determined on the playground by lining everyone up, tallest to shortest; invariably, I’d be at the end of the line. Some of my most acute memories from elementary school involve being teased for my height. Those moments cut deep.
I have now handed on these same small genes to my kids (with my wife’s help). Anne likes to say that our kids are “fun-sized,” like a Snickers bar at Halloween. And the one who’s the most “fun,” if you will, is my son, Louis.
I was at one of Louis’ recent baseball games and was sitting right behind the backstop, next to some parents of kids from the other team. Louis stepped up to the plate. He worked a full count: three balls, two strikes. On the payoff pitch, the kid grooved one that looked pretty good, but the ump said it just missed the top of the zone: Ball Four. Louis takes the walk.
That’s when one of those parents shouted, “C’mon ump! That would’ve been a strike if the kid were a normal size!”
And I about lost it. Fortunately, the ensuing back-and-forth didn’t come to blows because he was (surprise, surprise) a lot bigger than me and mean-looking. But I laid into him — about my kid, his kid and the whole conception of a “normal size.” When I finished my tirade, I got up and stormed off.
In the aftermath, I reflected on how I’ve let concerns about my size affect how I view myself and others — including, now, my kids. But I don’t have to. Louis isn’t worried about being fun-sized; in fact, he embraces it. And I belong to a Lord who emptied himself, becoming despised in the sight of the world, for my sake.
But it was definitely Ball Four.
QUESTION #4: FIRE UP
Tell us about your toil. How are you investing your professional time right now? What’s your current obsession? And why should it be ours?
In a way, that last story spills over into this. I wrote my book “The Quiet Ambition” because, in all my years as a pastor, I’ve seen God’s people wrestle with whether — or how — our lives can make a difference for his kingdom. I believe that, in our heart of hearts, we all want to make our time on earth count: to use our talents, to bless our neighbors, to leave our mark. And yet, in view of how vast is the cosmos and how great is God’s reign, we can’t help feeling … little.
My deep and abiding passion is to help believers cherish how, on account of Christ, their “little” lives and labors are not in vain. Hope flows from that confidence. In the book, I say that the quiet ambition is a way that this hope takes shape amid the everyday and the mundane. Or in other words: it’s a way of finding “the largeness in littleness.”
Well, I teach future preachers, and one thing I always tell them is that you have to preach to yourself before you can preach to others. I knew that to be the case with this book, too. But only recently (since finishing the manuscript) did I have a moment of introspection and realize that part of the reason why this message resonates with me is undoubtedly because, in my life, there have been plenty of times when I have felt little — not only existentially, but literally and physically. Like at a Little League game, for instance.
But whether you’re big or small or anywhere in between, my goal is to help you see how God makes much of what might feel like your meager efforts. It’s not in vain!
QUESTION #5: BOOST
Whether we’re cashiers or CEOs, contractors or customer service reps, we all need God’s love flowing into us and back out into the world. How does the Holy Spirit invigorate your work? And how do you know it’s God when it happens?
Passion moves me. By that, I don’t mean my own passion (although that’s, of course, also true); I mean feeling the heat radiating from another heart.
I think this has been the case for some time, but I realized it at a deeper level last year on a trip to Africa. I had the opportunity to be part of a group of pastors leading a conference for church leaders in South Africa. In the course of our trip, we visited a school that our church supports. The students shared with us songs and speeches and memory work, and it was all of it wonderful.
Then there was a traditional South African dance. The kids — 12 and 13 years old — moved in perfect synchrony. They sang as they swayed; they chanted as they stepped. Marvelous. But at one point, a young lady emerged from the group to take center stage. She danced with fearless abandon, like David “undignified” before the Lord. And when she sang, the words poured forth with the urgency of a waterfall. I was utterly captivated.
Looking back on that moment afterward, it struck me that this is what gets me fired up: seeing the joyful passion of a person who has slotted into God’s good work for them. St. Augustine said that the gospel spreads with one heart setting another heart on fire. When I sense that, I know that Pentecost keeps coming.
QUESTION #6: inspire
Scripture and tradition beckon us into the rich and varied habits that open our hearts to the presence of God. So let us in. Which spiritual practice is working best for you in this season?
Last year, due to a bubbling cauldron of factors, I was dealing with a lot of stress. I had trouble sleeping. My devotional time dried up. And my prayers faltered. Although I needed to talk to God more than ever, whenever I opened my mouth, it seemed like I could only utter formulas and platitudes. Don’t get me wrong: I believe that the Father is pleased whenever we turn our attention to him, and his response doesn’t depend on our eloquence. But as the Scripture says, I felt like I was drawing near with my words while my heart was far away.
I’ve noticed over the years that my prayers tend to stall when I’m stationary. I don’t know what it is; if I’m in one place, sitting, standing or kneeling, it isn’t long before my focus wanders, and my words fizzle out. Of course, there are plenty of times in day-to-day life when there’s no real alternative — in gathered worship, during family devotions and so on — and so I solicit the Spirit’s help and do my level best to attune my heart to Christ. But it can be a struggle.
By contrast, when I’m walking, my prayers tend to flow more freely. Whether on a hike in the woods or taking the dog around the block, I find myself more prone to speaking with the Lord — conversationally, naturally. Maybe there’s something to all that talk in the Scriptures of “walking with God.”
So while I was in the midst of that dry spell last year, one very early morning, still dark, I was lying in bed when I thought, Why don’t I just get up and go for a walk? I crawled out from under the covers, threw on a dirty shirt and a pair of sweats and woke up our slumbering Golden Retriever, Theo. Then I just started walking. One mile, two miles — maybe more.
And the strangest thing happened: under the cover of darkness, with nothing but the stars and Theo to keep me company, I found myself opening up my heart to the Lord. The walk went on and on. I didn’t want it to end. The next morning, I did it again. Then the one after that. Each day, at zero dark thirty, I was now happily hopping out of bed for a time of quiet conversation with the Savior: about my family, neighbors, work, the world — everything.
More than a year on, I can say that this has become my go-to spiritual discipline. In many respects, it’s been a life saver. Or rather, it has helped me reconnect with my Life Saver.
QUESTION #7: FOCUS
Looking backward, considering the full sweep of your unique faith journey and all you encountered along the way, what top three resources stand out to you? What changed reality and changed your heart?
In my study, I have an “inspiration wall,” with pictures and portraits of some of the people from history who have been most influential for me. There are some you would know and expect (C.S. Lewis), others that you probably wouldn’t (Lutheran hymnwriter Martin Franzmann) and several others in between — including the authors of three sources of inspiration that especially stand out in my personal faith formation.
The first is pastor and biblical scholar Eugene Peterson. I could name any number of his books (probably “A Long Obedience in the Same Direction” at the top), but I will zag and mention an audio interview he did with Ken Myers for Mars Hill Audio Journal titled “Dancing Lessons.” I can still remember the walk I was on some 20 years ago, listening to the creaking of Peterson’s rocking chair over my iPod, his grandfatherly tone dispensing priceless pastoral wisdom. I still return to that conversation.
A natural second influence to name is Kentucky farmer and poet Wendell Berry, because I actually came to Berry’s writings through Peterson’s recommendation in “Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places.” I picked up a copy of Berry’s collection of essays “What Are People For?” at the Borders (RIP) in St. Louis and devoured it; the rest is history. I went from his essays to his poetry and finally, in the last decade or so, to his fiction, which now is my favorite of all. Berry has given me a profound appreciation for place and the good gifts of life in community. I also heartily recommend the marvelous documentary about him, “Look and See.”
Third and finally is the Lutheran pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Bonhoeffer’s writings have left an indelible imprint on me; reading “The Cost of Discipleship” as a college student transformed my understanding of following Jesus. Even more so, though, his life-story continues to resonate. It’s one thing to write, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die,” and it’s another thing to have the courage of your convictions and lay down your life for the sake of your beliefs. His memory looms large in my soul.
Certain things can be godsends, helping us survive, even thrive, in our fast-paced world. Does technology ever help you this way? Has an app ever boosted your spiritual growth? If so, how?
I cannot say that an app has ever boosted my spiritual growth. What did boost my spiritual growth, however, was the moment when I realized that — for me — I needed to ditch the smartphone.
This was some years ago now. I was a new pastor and the shiny Apple iPhone, still a relatively recent development, seemed to be just the device to keep me connected with my flock and the culture at large. At first, it was phenomenal: all of life at my fingertips! But it wasn’t long before cracks started to show. I felt addled, distracted and distractible all the time. Compulsively checking email or Fantasy Football updates or Craigslist postings. By now, this is all too familiar.
One day, my young family went to take pictures for our Christmas card at Lover’s Point in Pacific Grove, California (rumor has it that the Methodist enclave was originally called “Lovers of Jesus Point”). We set up shop at a beautiful spot beside the beach, overlooking Monterey Bay. While my wife readied the tripod and camera, taking a few practice shots, I was sitting with my 2-year-old on a stone wall. In one of those practice shots Anne took, I was staring intently at my phone, oblivious to my toddler beside me, who was straddling the wall, horseback-style.
I know, I know: cliché picture of dad neglecting his son for his phone. But here’s the thing: on the other side of that wall was a 20-foot drop down to the beach below. Had my son fallen, it might not have been mortal danger, but neither would it have been harmless.
Anne showed me the picture later. I was cut to the heart. I offered up a prayer of thanks for the Lord’s mercy in protecting my boy. At that moment, I knew that the shiny device just wasn’t worth it. I went to the AT&T store and asked if I could swap out. “Sure,” they said, “we just got the new model.” No, I told them, I wanted to downgrade. I eventually persuaded the bemused clerk to rummage around in the back and find a flip phone. The phone was nothing to write home about, but then that’s just the point.
I can’t say my spiritual growth has prospered as a result of eschewing the smartphone, but it’s been one less thing for me to worry about, and for that, I’m grateful.
QUESTION #8: dream
God’s continually stirring new things in each of us. So give us the scoop! What’s beginning to stir in you but not yet fully awakened? What can we expect from you in the future?
Since making the transition last year from parish ministry to teaching ministry, moving from the congregation to the seminary, some fresh and unexpected interests have emerged. One that stands out is a newfound fascination with the science of learning. The last two decades have seen an explosion in neuroscientific research about how the brain works, what things are remembered and why, and the ways that we make cognitive connections. As an educator with a keen interest in memory (my first book, “Preaching by Heart,” was on recovering the classical art of memory in preaching), this research is right in my sweet spot.
So I am beginning to wonder about how we can build upon the remarkable ways that God has designed our brains as we attend to the practices of discipleship, catechesis and pastoral ministry. For instance, how can preachers tap into their capacity for mental visualization in their preparation and proclamation? What can memory research teach us about learning the Scriptures by heart? How can Christian parents and teachers more effectively leverage the way that God has created his children to learn, as together we seek to “learn Christ” (Eph. 4:20)? Questions like these fire my imagination.
And then I think: what business does a pastor and theologian like me have meddling in “gray matters” (if you will)? Clearly, most of this is beyond my ken. Yet I consider being a translator as a core part of my vocation, seeking to make complicated topics (like biblical theology) more accessible to God’s people. There is no doubt plenty that gets lost in my attempts at translation. Nevertheless, I find the effort itself enjoyable and worthwhile.
Ryan said earlier that passion moves him. By this, most people might mean that they’re passionate about something — a calling or a hobby. But Ryan was talking about other people’s passion. Seeing others motivated and eager to walk out their giftings fills him with joy and inspiration.
That attitude reminds us of our heavenly Father. Ephesians 2:10 tells us that “we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them” (ESV). And Zephaniah prophesied that God “will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love” (Zeph. 3:17, ESV).
Like a proud father, God watches his children with joy as they walk out the callings he has placed on their lives. Friend, he rejoices in seeing your passion.
Reflect: How does this truth change the way you live day in and day out? How does it impact the way you prioritize your gifts and callings?
Ryan Tinetti is the assistant professor of practical theology at Concordia Seminary, St. Louis, where he teaches pastoral theology and the art of preaching. Before being called to the seminary, he spent 14 years as a parish pastor. He is the author of Preaching by Heart and The Quiet Ambition. He and his wife, Anne, have four kids and live on the campus of the seminary.