A couple weeks ago, a few of us from the Distant Moon team spent several days in Nashville at the National Religious Broadcasters convention. If you’ve never been, imagine thousands of people who care deeply about media, ministry, and the future of storytelling all gathered in one place.

We called it “The Future of Film.” The room filled up with nonprofit leaders and storytellers who are using film not just to entertain people, but to advance missions that genuinely change lives.

But instead of doing the typical conference thing (you know: PowerPoint slides, a panel of experts pretending to have all the answers, etc…) we tried something different.

We handed the microphone to the leaders in the room and asked them to share the film they’re most proud of. And to discuss what worked…and what didn’t.

The stories ranged from prison ministry to Bible translation to missionary work in Ecuador. Different missions. Different audiences. Different goals.

But as the conversation unfolded, a few themes kept surfacing about how organizations are using film today.

1. The best films do not live alone.
2. Authenticity is the most powerful currency in storytelling.
3. Clear purpose shapes great storytelling.
4. Sometimes the audience understands the story better than the filmmaker.

So instead of a traditional newsletter this week, I wanted to share a few highlights from the discussion. Each one captures a different way organizations are using film to expand their mission.

Prison Fellowship: One Story as an Ecosystem of Impact

One of the films we featured told the story of Jermaine, a convicted felon who encountered Christ through Prison Fellowship and turned his life around.

What I loved about this conversation with Marko Albrecht was how it shows that a documentary is rarely just a single piece of content. The real impact comes from how organizations extend that story across multiple channels and audiences.

Here is part of our conversation with Marko:

Ian: “That is a great story. It’s really cool to see stories like that. How are you guys using this branded doc, and what is the objective in terms of what you are wanting to accomplish with this?”

Marko Albrecht: “The objective is, the mission is always first, right, to have that encounter with Jesus. And then with this, there are multiple variables with it. We had it as a short doc that churches play in their services. That is why it is that three minute length. There is a little slot you get to put it in, and you will see this in the service. And then afterwards, we have our church mobilization team led by Will and they kind of sign up churches on the fly.

We have Jermaine as our mission ambassador now, so he takes this into speaking engagements with corporations. So we built corporate restoration partners where they build out long term donors. We run CTV ads from this. We do cut downs at 30 seconds. We have social media clips from this and teasers. So we really try to extend content out to reach those goals. And this one had really, really great results.”

Ian: “When you talk about all the different types of content that come from the single piece, where have you guys seen, as an organization, the biggest kind of shifting of the needle? Has it been in churches, or has it been on the CTV stuff? Or where are you seeing the most impact?”

Marko Albrecht: “Well, luckily, we were kind of early movers a little bit in terms of three and a half years ago, there was not as much content. Now, you said there is every day, there are like five, six million videos uploaded an hour even now. It is absolutely insane. So you have to keep up with that.

This [documentary] is about two and a half years ago now. We have 100,000 subscribers on our YouTube channel. This had 120,000 views. The CTV metrics on this did really well. We run ads on this and it had a 23 percent increase month over month, using variations of this ad, different hooks, endings, and trying out different things.

[What] I think is important to hear you talk about here is the audience, because what the audience wants to see is always changing. But then also Jermaine, he played this at Chick-fil-A headquarters, and he said everybody started crying. So I think there is that heart, changing minds and changing hearts. For a guy like Jermaine, just to tell his story, I think there is healing there too on his end as well.”

Featuring stories like Jermaine’s remind us that a single film can ripple far beyond the screen. But just as important as reach is something we heard about in the next conversation: authenticity.

Seed Company: Authenticity Still Wins

Seed Company produced a beautiful film about the translation of the Bible for the Notsi people in Papua New Guinea.

Their approach highlights that, sometimes, the most important metric for a film is its authenticity.

Here’s what producer Jim Monroe (pictured above on the right) had to say about that:

Ian: “First of all, beautiful film. When Seed Company makes a film like this, you mentioned that the primary audience is investors and donors, correct? So talk to us a little bit about the different types of content you have experimented with as an organization. Is it all that cinematic, visual approach, with the characters themselves telling their story? Are there other formats? 

Jim Monroe: “This specifically was a dedication, but we do not just document dedications. We also do story trips, where we focus on small communities or individuals and tell life impact stories. In the past couple of years, we have been branching out even more, trying to bring in broader audiences as well. Because for years, our department was more like a white glove: high quality films for our investors. We have a great marketing team too, so we still focus on high quality films like this in our department. But we also assist our marketing team by giving them the footage and content. They have been doing a great job creating little snippets and pieces that are easy to watch. You pop it up, it is just a few seconds long, it intrigues them, and then they do a build up release to the actual film that we make.”

Ian: “What I am curious about is how do you guys define project success? When you are showing a film like this to a small, close group of people, or individual donors, what are the metrics that your organization is using to go ‘This was a successful project, or this was not a successful project’?”

Jim Monroe: “Our primary focus is, has been, and always will be, authenticity. People want real. When we do what we do, they want real. And that is what we try to reflect in a lot of our films.

The feedback we got from the individuals who have seen it, especially ones who have served and lived in Papua New Guinea, has been really positive, saying that this, like some of those shots at the very beginning, people washing their clothes in the river, getting coconuts out of trees, the sounds, that is authentic, that is Papua New Guinea. And that is what our investors want. They want to see, we live in such a closed-door, bubbled reality, being able to see God’s impact globally is huge.”

Authenticity helps audiences trust what they are seeing, which can be considered a win. But as the next conversation shows, some organizations wrestle with the question “What does success actually look like for us?”

Global Outreach International: The Tension Between Art and ROI

Josh Yerkes, the VP of Development at Global Outreach International, shared a challenge that I suspect many nonprofits in the room could relate to.

Sometimes the question is not “Is this a great story?”

The question is “What is the ROI?”

Here is part of that exchange:

Ian: “What was the biggest challenge from your perspective in making this project?”

Josh Yerkes: “The biggest challenge was this: ‘How do we reconcile something that we just want to be a beautiful piece of art that challenges people, however it challenges them, and then [knowing that] we need tangible ROI and [how do you] bring those things together?’ Which is kind of what you saw. It is tailored there at the end, to invite a donor into giving, into a digital sustainer, monthly giving program we call ‘The Farm.’ I think we landed where it is, in a good place with that tension.”

Ian: “What does victory look like with GOI’s media strategy?”

Josh Yerkes: “We have two marketing strategies that actually compete against one another: the recruitment of missionaries and then also donors to fund that, because we accomplish that vision at no cost to the missionary (we do not take a percentage from our missionaries).

For support based missionaries, raising funds for their specific work is vital care for them. And so with this film, we are kind of recruiting missionaries like, ‘Hey, go be a part of missions!’ But while doing that, we are increasing our costs, so we are also recruiting donors that says ‘Hey, maybe going across the pond is not your part in missions, but here is one way that you can support that.’

And so that marketing strategy success really looks like more missionaries, which means a greater need and more partners to fulfill that.”

Josh’s story highlights the tension between telling a meaningful story and delivering measurable results. And often, the bridge between those two things is surprisingly simple. It begins with understanding the audience you are trying to serve.

Soil & Story: Let the Audience Interpret (and Guide) the Story

The final conversation came from Geoff Peters, CEO of Soil & Story, who works with projects like The Chosen and other major faith-based productions.

His insight reinforced something I have written about before in this newsletter:

The audience is the hero.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do as filmmakers is listen to how communities interpret a story.

Here is what Geoff shared:

Ian: “You mentioned before the video some of the work that you guys are doing, working with The Chosen, working with some other productions and organizations. I guess maybe as a starting point, what are the things that you guys are seeing as you are working with productions like The Chosen that you are like, ‘Wow, this is something that nobody is thinking about! And if more organizations knew this, it would really help them’?”

Geoff Peters: Yeah, I think what comes to mind first is two examples. A few months back, I was with, we had a round table with ministry leaders in Brazil, and we were talking about an upcoming film from The Chosen (which will come out early 2027). We gave them the basic specs on how many people would come to theater showings and what has happened historically. And we asked them, as the leadership of the body of Christ there in that place, that as you pray and discern, what do you think God is telling you about how many people should come and see this film in theaters in the first 90 days?

And the number they came back with was two and a half times higher than what the industry metrics told us was possible.

And so the first lesson was that the body of Christ often has a much bigger idea than if we just go with what industry says. If we do not invite the Holy Spirit into that process, and we do not talk to the local believers, we do not talk to the local church, we can potentially underestimate what God wants to do.

The second big learning is really one that is right in the midst of us right now. Next week, I will be in the UK with another film about miracles (different piece) that we are helping to work with. But in the UK, pastors are saying they want to be able to utilize this film. They want to promote this film. They want to get people to see this film because, in the UK, they have an epidemic of loneliness and they believe this film shows a God that is next to you and near you, even if you do not feel like anybody sees you. This is not what the filmmakers intended. But when you ask the local church how they might use it, how God might use it, they are seeing it through the lens of that loneliness and God is always with you.

So…when the local soil of believers and church leaders looks at [a film] and they know what their community issues are, they are going to actually want to market, promote, and utilize that film for a different purpose that is contextual, right for them, right for themselves, even if that is not what the filmmakers intended.”

Geoff’s insight brings the conversation full circle: Great films rarely stand alone. They become the starting point for an entire ecosystem of storytelling and engagement and authenticity matters because when audiences sense something real, they lean in.

Clear purpose matters because when organizations know what they are aiming at, the film becomes a guide that helps people move toward action. And finally, sometimes audiences understand a story in ways the filmmaker never anticipated.

All of this points to something essential for storytellers and the organizations they serve. Film is not just about creating beautiful images. It is about helping people see the world and their place in it a little more clearly. When that happens, stories can move hearts, spark conversations, and sometimes even change lives.

Here’s to Human Flourishing.

-Ian

So this past week, I was really in the thick of it.

And by “it,” I mean the valley of despair that comes when you have so much to do across multiple projects that you don’t even know what to do next…while also feeling like everything you’re making kinda sucks.

That moment of “This project is amazing! Life is amazing!” way in the rearview mirror. My mental state was more like…

“This is the worst. Why can’t I make anything good? Do I just suck at everything?”

It reminded me of that creative process chart that floats around the internet:

The Creative Process:

1. This is awesome.
2. This is tricky.
3. This is crap.
4. This is really crap.
5. I am crap.
6. Maybe this is okay?
7. Oh, this is actually awesome!

I’ve always loved it, not just because it makes me laugh, but because it’s also deeply encouraging. More than anything, it reminds me that we all experience the same highs and lows.

But this week, for the life of me I couldn’t find the diagram anywhere on the internet. So…I did what every 36-year old millennial creative does and asked ChatGPT: “WHAT THE HECK DID THAT IMAGE LOOK LIKE AGAIN?”

And this is what it looks like in all its uncanny valley AI glory!

It makes me laugh every time because it’s true. But it’s also important. Because if you don’t internalize the main idea, this phase will either keep you moving forward or completely derail you.

Every project begins with excitement. You can almost taste how great the final product will be.

Then life shows up. Not enough time, that collaborator you love working with isn’t on the same page, the executive suite disagrees on ideal outcomes…OH, yeah, and have you noticed it’s actually just really hard to make something GOOD, let alone EXCELLENT?

I think this is the moment most people misdiagnose. They think:

• “We picked the wrong idea.”
• “I’m not actually good at this.”
• “Maybe this project was a mistake.”

But as a filmmaker who’s been working professionally since my teens (and just ask my kids: I’m REAAALLY old), I can tell you: this moment isn’t failure. It’s actually proof you’re on the right track. It’s the normal friction that comes from making anything meaningful.

Ira Glass (famed host of This American Life) talks about this beautifully: when you hate your own work, it’s often because your taste is outpacing your ability to execute. That’s normal. And it means you care.

But I’ve also noticed a corollary: Even after decades of experience, you never skip the “this doesn’t live up to the hope” phase. For most of a project’s life, it isn’t there yet. And living in that gap is where the pain comes from.

But it’s also an encouragement. It means you’re on the right path. And if you push through it, that end-vision in your mind is achievable.

Speaking from my own experience: Every finished film I’m proud of has passed directly through that valley. And just to be clear: It’s not MOST. Not SOME. It’s EVERY. SINGLE. ONE.

And over the last 20 years, I’ve recognized that I’m not alone.

Last fall, Distant Moon quietly launched ORBIT, a director partnership program with some of the best filmmakers of my generation. Each of them is working on huge things that impact the world. Angel Studios series. Youtube empires. Projects with brands like Sony and Marvel.

And all of them face the “this is crap” phase. BUT, they’ve all learned to stop asking “Is this project bad?” or “Do I just suck?” 

Instead, they ask better questions:

• What’s not clear yet?
• What’s trying to emerge?
• What does this actually need from me now?

Asking these questions is important, because if the right questions aren’t asked, I often see people overcorrect, like a pendulum. And as a result, they confuse discomfort with failure and abandon good ideas too early (often right before breakthrough would have occurred).

Ok, so what’s the takeaway?

If the work feels hard, it’s because it’s becoming significant.

If its hard and doesn’t matter, you just stop. If it matters but isn’t hard, you’re probably not making something lasting. If its hard AND it matters, you push through and make something meaningful. The fantasy idealistic phase is over. The responsibility phase has begun. So push through, ask the right questions, and know you’re not alone. Everyone doing something meaningful faces the valley of despair.

You’ve got this. Here’s to Human flourishing.

-Ian

Oh. and here’s a picture of me on set of a recent film, struggling through a scene that wasn’t clicking. Its worth it once you make it work!

P.S. – I’m hosting a special invitation-only session at NRB next month called “The Future of Film.” If you’re going to be there (or in Nashville area) on February 20th. I’d love to see you there! Structurally based on the idea of a mastermind session, we’re showcasing work from some of the nation’s leading nonprofits and discussing the state of the industry and where we’re headed.

Join leaders and thinkers from Global Outreach International, Prison Fellowship, Mission Aviation Fellowship, Ligonier Ministries, Charity Water, and more. And hear incredible insights from marketing strategist Allen Thornburgh, veteran producer Bobby Downes, and myself. It will be a really beneficial time for all involved.

So, yesterday, my family and I returned from a three-day whirlwind journey through Disney World. Imagine a trip across the Magic Kingdom, Animal Kingdom, Epcot, and Hollywood Studios with four boys under 11 and multiple cousins in tow. It was exhilarating, exhausting, magical, and sometimes frustrating (when you realize you’ve definitely pushed a four-year-old too way to far without a nap).

Honestly, my favorite moment was toward the very beginning of the trip. Yetta and I had been planning for 9-months and it was a total surprise for our kids. They found out on the morning of our departure that we were headed to the airport. But even better, at the airport, they found out that not JUST they were going to Disney World, but some of their cousins were as well! It was by far the most fun surprise Yetta and I have ever undertaken! (you can watch the video of the boy’s reaction at the end of the email).

All that to say, we had a blast on the trip, but there was one element of the trip that caught me totally off-guard: Deep existential questions from my four year old.

You see, my four-year-old Wes asked the same question at least thirty times a day:
“Is that real?” (pointing at the Millennium Falcon)
“Is she real?” (pointing at a Disney princess)
“Is Mickey Mouse real?” (pointing at, you guessed it, Mickey Mouse).

Imagine 30 variations on that theme each day. By the end of the trip, I had heard “is it real” close to a hundred times.

And it got me thinking: the “magic” of Disney isn’t actually about creating real things. What they’ve mastered is creating technically impossible experiences (entering the Star Wars universe, racing a Tron bike, meeting famous animated characters, journeying through a dozen countries in a fifteen-minute walk) and making them feel real. Or at least as real as current technological wizardry and set-building artistry allow.

In other words, they’re masters of creating experiences and stories that accompany those experiences that transport you, even if just for a moment, out of the real world and into another one.

And that got me thinking about the transformative power of story. At its heart, story puts the audience in someone else’s shoes (even if only briefly) so that they feel, think, or see the world differently than they had before. And when you can shift how someone sees the world, maybe you can share what truly matters: ideas or values that help them (and perhaps others) flourish.

Now, I love to rag on Disney for “losing their way” as much as the next guy. But I have to give them credit. As Didier Ghez writes in Disneyland Paris: From Sketch to Reality:

“Walt Disney was, foremost, a storyteller. As a result, everything starts with a story at Walt Disney Imagineering. Every detail of every land in the park has to be backed up by a story, a ‘mythology’. Often, the story would never be a part of what the guests would experience, but was used as a strategic outline in guiding the design process. It is the thread that holds it all together, the script from which all the elements flow coherently: design, models, color, backdrops, props and costumes. And it’s the essence that distinguishes a Disney park and its lands from all other parks.”

That philosophy of story first isn’t just rhetoric. It creates real impact. In the last few years, Disney World has drawn around 50 million guests annually. Compare this to the mere 17 million who visit Universal Studios parks a year. Disney dwarfs the competition as they whistle straight to the bank on their story-fist approach.

So maybe Wes’s little question wasn’t just a child’s curiosity. Maybe it was the question at the heart of storytelling itself: is this real? And I think it points to something all of us must wrestle with. For his four-year-old brain, he knew that the story he saw was compelling and he wanted to know “is this how the world works?” The story felt real. And it mattered to him.

And I think that’s the lesson we as filmmakers, storytellers, movement builders, and brand advocates have to be considering every time we interact with our audiences. Are we telling a story that connects with the audience? Does it matter to them? And does it feel real? Only in doing that can we hope to change the world and how the audience sees it.

Here’s to Human Flourishing!

-Ian

P.S. – If you want to dive deeper into how story transports audiences—and how to define the audience you want to reach—join us this Friday for the Film Impact Summit. Only a few seats remain, so register now at distantmoon.com/impact.

Join Us at the Summit!

These are just starting points. At the Impact Film Summit, we’ll dive deeper into frameworks, show examples from inside campaigns, and give you tools to build films that inspire and sustain growth.

Date: September 12, 2025
Location: Hotel Burg, Leesburg, VA
Register Now—Limited to 50 People
Want to learn more? Watch the video below!

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DOWzdG-kSuy/?igsh=MW00ZzZ4bGs1c2xjZw==

This week I watched an interview between Pete Docter and Mike Birbiglia. It has a mere 20,000 views – which is a shame, because it might be the most encouraging conversation I’ve watched in years.

Why? Because it clarified something for me:
True excellence requires sacrifice.

“Yeah, duh,” you might say. But hang with me…

How often do we repeat societal mantras without actually internalizing what those mantras mean when the rubber meets the road?

Even that idiom! Ever said “when the rubber meets the road” without thinking about what it actually refers to? Let’s unpack its meaning. “When the rubber meets the road” refers to the moment a race car is dropped after a tire change – when the fresh rubber hits asphalt. At that point, all theory is off. Planning is in the rearview. All that’s left is to drive like hell.

Here’s the real point:
We rarely visualize the lived reality behind the slogans we parrot. Especially when it comes to the saying, “True excellence requires sacrifice.”

Everyone says this. And yet…most people aren’t excellent.

I can hear the objections: “Don’t be so critical! People are doing their best!”

No disrespect. But by definition, most of society isn’t excellent. Excellence means excelling – rising above the norm. Webster’s calls it “first class” or “superior,” which implies a hierarchy of quality. “Excellence” only exists because there is something less than excellence to contrast it.

In most measurable contexts – sports, academics, business – excellence is the top 10%. That means 90% of people are not operating at that level. So when the majority talks about excellence, we have to admit: they’re often speaking about something they haven’t actually experienced.

Which led me to this thought: Looking to the 90% for advice on how to be in the 10% is a fool’s errand.

You wouldn’t ask the Monday morning quarterback at the water cooler for help designing a world-class playbook. You’d ask Tom Brady.

So why do we take cues from the people around us – online, in offices, at dinner parties – about what makes a great career, business, or life? Shouldn’t we be listening to the actual greats?

Which, brings me back to Pete Docter.

In his conversation with Mike Birbiglia, Pete – the brilliant director behind Monsters Inc., Up, and Inside Out, says something that gave me pause.

He describes how every Pixar movie requires hundreds of artists to endure 3 a.m. nights, creative crises, and sheer exhaustion. Final stretches where all-nighters are more common than 9-to-5 workdays.

Hold up. Pixar – 30 years into its reign as the world’s leading animation studio – still hasn’t figured out how to make excellent films without pain, sacrifice, and emotional turmoil??

If they haven’t cracked the code, what makes us think we’ll find a shortcut?

And oddly…that question felt freeing.

Mr. Beast proves there’s no shortcut

Once I saw this question clearly, I started noticing corollary questions. I recently watched interviews with Jimmy Donaldson (MrBeast) and Steven Bartlett (Diary of a CEO), where they describe their lives: jetting from Egypt to L.A. for a shoot, driving to North Hollywood for a midnight interview, sleeping on planes, and filming into the early hours.

That kind of pace sounds insane to average people. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s only insane if you’re not actually trying to build a world-changing empire. And maybe that’s okay.

We don’t all need to adopt the lifestyle of MrBeast or Pixar. But we do need to acknowledge the tradeoffs. Because excellence doesn’t come cheap. And if you want to reach the top 10% in your field – whether it’s design, ministry, filmmaking, nonprofit leadership, or entrepreneurship – you’ll need to count the cost.

We all carry competing responsibilities – to our teams, our families, our clients, and to our own souls. But at some point, we have to tell the truth, which starts with honest questions: What are we actually trying to accomplish? And are we willing to make the necessary sacrifices?

Excellence Requires Sacrifice

I initially planned to end on this point, but at Yetta’s urging, I realized I should say a word about what sacrifice actually looks like in practice. Because the sacrifice most of us least want to make (comfort and personal enjoyment) is often the one most necessary to achieve any kind of excellence.

A friend of mine (and my first landlord) used to say, “In life, you have to triage your responsibilities.” Unless you’re a rare exception, your life probably involves more than just one priority. For me, it’s Family, Business, and Health (spiritual, mental, physical). You’ll notice “hang with the guys” didn’t make the list.

It’s taken me decades of focus to *try* to figure out how to allocate time between these areas, and if you’re interested in seeing my personal schedule, shoot me a note. I’m happy to share it and talk about it in more detail. 

The point – and this is really Yetta’s insight – is that sacrifice doesn’t mean giving everything up for one thing. It means choosing the few spinning plates you refuse to let drop, and being willing to sacrifice everything else to keep those going.

Heck, I wrote this at 11pm on a Friday night because I committed to send out these newsletters twice a month and I’ve been on set all week for 14-hours at a time. That’s what “the rubber meets the road” looks like for me right now. So what’s it look like for you?

If you want to build the most impactful nonprofit in your space, what are the current leaders sacrificing to be there?

If I want to build the most influential film studio of the 21st century, what did the pioneers give up to lead at that level?

Are we matching that commitment?

Whether your answer is yes or no, isn’t actually the point of this email. That’s a deeply personal accounting and one every person and team needs to make for themselves. But the question must be asked. Because no path to excellence begins without a clear-eyed understanding of what it costs.

And once you see it, you can no longer unsee it.

Here’s to excellence and human flourishing,
– Ian

Want to watch or listen instead of reading?

Don’t have time to read these newsletters? Check out last week’s newsletter “Choose the Hard Path” in its podcast form or as a youtube video while you drive or cook or whatever you’re doing!

Spotify Link: LISTEN HERE
Youtube Link: WATCH HERE

Today, I’m heading to New York City for a quick 24-hour trip – and honestly, I’ve been feeling the nerves.

It’s not often I get this kind of anxious energy about work. But there’s still one scenario that brings out the imposter syndrome in full force:

Awards shows.

Tonight, Yetta and I will be attending the 2025 Webby Awards Ceremony in lower Manhattan, red carpet and all.

It’s a surreal experience. I’ve spent decades crafting stories and creating work. But I haven’t spent decades receiving public recognition, walking fancy carpets, or standing shoulder to shoulder with celebrities.

Just look at who’s being honored tonight: Rihanna, Taylor Swift, Kendrick Lamar, Taika Waititi, Simone Biles, the Kelce brothers – and more.

And then there’s me. Ian, who?

A small voice in my head says: You don’t belong here.

Ok. Fine. It’s actually a big voice. And it’s really loud.

All afternoon yesterday, I was worrying about what I would say to people. “How do you make small talk again?” “What will I do?” “I probably shouldn’t even go, right? Like awards are just a total waste of time anyway!?”

But as the nervous energy was growing to an unbearable level and as my own brain was saying “hey, dude. Normal people don’t belong at an event like this,” a different thought hit me: What if it’s precisely the normal people who are called to do meaningful work that serves other normal people?

That, after all, is what Distant Moon was built for – helping others wrestle with life’s essential questions, see the world more clearly, and connect with what it means to be human. That’s what I’ve been called to do.

And the interesting thing is, as soon as I had that thought, the nerves began to subside. Suddenly the objective in my attendance was disconnected from my own well-being. Instead of asking “what if people think I don’t belong?” I was able to start wondering “what can I do to help others feel like they belong?”

In case it’s not obvious, I’m not talking about “belonging at the Webbys.” I’m talking about belonging in a deeper sense.

C.S. Lewis was one of the most profound influences in my early scholastic life. In high school I enrolled in a great books course that was predominantly focused on the nonfiction writings of Lewis. In one of his books, “The Weight of Glory,” he says something that has always stuck with me:

“It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbour. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbour’s glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken.

It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.

All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics.

There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit—immortal horrors or everlasting splendours.”

What if the goal isn’t to promote ourselves, but to encourage the eternal beings all around us to find truth, goodness, and flourishing in their everyday lives? Perhaps that ought to be the goal even in the fleeting moments of small talk at a banquet, on the red carpet, or in a crowded after party?

What if we approached every encounter with genuine curiosity, asking others about their dreams, their work, their purpose?

That’s the posture Yetta and I are going to try to take with us. We’re not going to sell ourselves. We’re going to try to see others – to really see them.

So….tonight, I’m choosing to see the Webby Awards not as a stage to impress, but as a space to serve.

And, just maybe, we’ll encourage someone else who also wonders why they’re at the Webby Awards… and remind them that they belong as well.

Here’s to Human Flourishing.

-Ian

In Other News…

My oldest son, Cal and I went down to Nashville a week ago to visit our friends at Kingdom Story Company. We spent a wonderful day with the team there as they’re finalizing their new studio and on set shooting I Can Only Imagine 2. Here are some fun pictures from the time I got to spend with Cal both on set and around the town.