christianity – Julian Wise

Flogging & Flourishing

June 20, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

A beautiful experience and the shame that exiles it.

At Burning Man about 10 years ago, two friends asked if I wanted to join them for an intro-to-flogging workshop. I accepted. We trudged across the dusty playa to a tent filled with straps, crosses, benches, and massage tables: the sort of image you’d expect in a BDSM dungeon on TV, except all these were dusty and out in the open, not locked in some basement.

The leader started his talk. He’s a massage therapist, he said, and he thinks of flogging (and BDSM in general) not as an activity about pain, but as a massage with tools. Just as you can create physical experiences of excitement or relaxation or healing in someone’s body using your hands, so too can you create those experiences using tools.

Fair enough.

He asked for a volunteer, asked the volunteer if they had any sensitive areas or pain, and began to demonstrate. His demonstration started slowly: gently bringing blood to the surface, arousing some awareness of the area without any pain. It accelerated: increasing the intensity or the vigor or the speed (sometimes all three at once). He took the volunteer over her edge. She winced. He eased up, comforted her, ensured she felt safe, and continued. The key, he said, was that people have the capacity to go much farther than they believe. Sometimes, we just require a little help.

After the demonstration, an assistant asked us to pair up. The attendees were an odd number, so my group was a group of three: me and my two friends (a man and a woman who were romantically dating and would go on to marry around five years later). First, the man flogged the woman. Then the woman flogged the man. Then I asked the woman if she would like to be my recipient. She agreed. The man interrupted by telling me, “Actually, you’re going to be flogging me.” I did, then we switched, and he flogged me.

I loved it. Adored it. The experience of relaxed sublimity equates only to the perfect calm felt under a heavy blanket or, I presume, a cattle squeeze chute. If you’ve ever loved a hot sauna or a vigorous workout or the endorphins of a long run, you’ll probably like an expert flogging.

Most people don’t talk about this experience. When a BDSM-inspired scene comes on the TV, they avert their eyes or switch channels. We shame kink and the people who like it. No one who has ever been flogged could get elected president.

That makes me sad. Very sad. It was a beautiful experience with wonderful people, the sort of deep and connective touch we share too infrequently.

Thinking about that experience prompts a sad longing in me: the sort one feels when recalling a long-forgotten friend: our life paths diverged and a decade passed, but I would like to snuggle up with them again.

Deleted Scenes from Resurrection Sunday (Apr 6 2026)

April 6, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In this happenstance order

The pastor only ever referred to Easter as “Resurrection Sunday”. I’ve no idea why.
About 110 minutes into the 125-minute service, a banner appeared on the projection screen: “Will the owner of a GREEN CHEVY license plate [number] parked on 116 between 7th and 8th, please attend to your vehicle”
The women beside me debated the age of the star soloist in the church choir. Their final guess: 51 years old. They also think it’s obvious she dyes her hair. I’m surprised, as I’ve never seen someone with dyed hair that short. (I would have assumed that shortness gets too much bleach & dye on the scalp.)
The pastor opened his speech with, “I feel like doing a comedy set.” Then, a few beats later, he commented about latecomers seeking seats. “You mad you can’t find a seat? It’s eleven-o’-five on Resurrection Sunday. Services started at ten!” This line killed.
The head pastor and the youth pastor share a last name. The youth pastor’s first name is “Tre”. I wonder if it’s short for “the third”.
1. My fact-checker investigated this question. She says, “Tre is, in fact, his father’s son.”
  1. She finds this hilarious.
  2. And yes, Tre is the third.

Repetition DOES NOT Equal Boredom (Apr 5 2026)

April 5, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero meets a new sort of show

The weirdest part of the Baptist Easter services was the repetition.
Say it again: The weirdest part of the Baptist Easter services was the repetition.

Listen to me now:

At 9:30am, Partner and I walked north into Harlem. We approached one church on the right. The church was welcoming people inside. We entered. The deacon at the door introduced us, mentioning there is a $10 admission to the service. Partner found this charge unacceptable. We left. You shouldn’t charge admission to Easter services.
Say it with me now: You shouldn’t charge admission to Easter services.

We continued onwards up north. A few blocks later, we arrived at a second church. More active, more bustling, with bright colors adorning all the flock milling about. We joined the line to enter. Security wanded us, patted me down. We ascended to the second floor balcony of the former theater. We joined.

And ‘allelujah, did we experience His flock.

The singing began at 9:54am. It did not stop – I say it did not stop – until 11am.

At 11am, the service stopped for an ad break. The Hope Network and the church itself both advertised (the latter for donations).

Then, 11:05am. The pastor – pastor Mike – enters the stage. This man has the sort of presence that demands a $180 ticket to his 55th birthday party (on a yacht around Manhattan, cash bar, advertised during the ad break). He starts with the text. Of course he starts with the text. And oh boy oh boy does he go deep with the text.

Deep. But not wide. Deep.

What juice can we squeeze out of these four lines of text? And how many times can we repeat it?
There is… profound juice to be squeezed from this one line of text.

I said: this juice can be squeezed.

Now turn to three people near you and share the message: There is. Juice. To squeeze.

A 45 minute sermon. Fewer than 9 points total.

The sermon was the opposite of boring. It was repetitive and grand and communal and physical. It was not wide. It contained 1) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; 2) Inviting the congregation to repeat the thesis of the sermon to their neighbors; 3) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; 4) Raising the audience up to standing; 5) Seating the audience with the wave of a hand; 6) Repeating the thesis of the sermon; and of course 7) Repeating…

Of all my experiences at church, this was my most enjoyable. Partner commented, only half-jokingly: “Our kids might become the only white atheist Hispanics Jews in the Baptist choir.”

I’m reminded of the Grand Texas Megachurches I visited in Austin back in 2019.
Those subtly (or sometimes obviously) wormed their messages into your minds.
Their leaders funneled away money while allegedly practicing various Good Deeds.

This church made no promises. It gave some advice. But it was all vibe.

Upon leaving this church, I felt energized.

At the end of my faith healing in the Austin megachurch, three separate individuals invited me to come back to church. I never did.

But next year, with this Baptist church?
There may be more juice to squeeze.

Homeful (Jan 29 2026)

January 30, 2026 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero lands.

Today… I bought a house!

A home, to be precise. (It’s an apartment.)

It’s in New York, a block from Central Park.

It’s big enough for a family, and gets great light. I’d love to live with roomies 🙂

Here’s what happened (all numbers are approximate).

I arrived at 11:27 for a 12noon closing.
From 11:30 to 11:53, my attorney walked me through the financials.
- One fun exchange:
  - “This was more work than I expected,” he said. “Do you want to increase my fee?”
  - “No,” I replied.
  - “Fair enough.”
- And another:
  - “I know people,” he told me. “You’re smart. You went to Harvard.”
  - “I went to Yale,” I replied. “Don’t insult me.”
  - He laughed.
At 11:53, the title company transfer agent arrived.
From 11:53 to 12:10, I signed some necessities (her notary book, for instance).
From 12:10 to 12:25, we waited.
At 12:25, the vice president of the co op board arrived. He brought soup for lunch.
From 12:25 to 12:35, the vice president and I signed a few documents.
At 12:35, the attorney for the co op arrived.
From 12:35 to 12:45, the attorney and the vice president and I signed a few papers.
At 12:45, the president of the co op board arrived.
From 12:45 to 1, the president signed a few papers.
From 1:00 to 1:17, we waited.
At 1:17, the lawyer for the bank arrived.
From 1:17 to 1:50, I signed 50 documents totalling over 200 pages.
- Many of the documents requested of me were inaccurate, either procedurally or factually. For example, the bank attorney wanted me to sign a document saying that my ID was correct as written. But he wanted me to sign the document *before* he wrote the details in. I said no: he should write it in, then I sign. And he WROTE IT IN WRONG.
At 1:50, we faxed the information to the bank.
From 1:50 to 2:10, we waited for confirmation.
At 2:55, my attorney’s receptionist suggested I leave. “We’ll call you back if we need anything from you.”
At 3:45, I received the confirmation.

I now own a home.

Well, technically, the bank owns the home, but they’re going to let me live in it while I pay them back!