Pastor Justin McLane on Paganism to Christianity, Combat Faith, Church Hurt, and the Black Robe Regiment

Justin McLane is a lead pastor, author, and workshop facilitator whose writing explores Christianity as a personal, everyday relationship with God. A combat veteran with two deployments, he describes earlier years in pagan practice, paranormal investigation, and later conversion following an experience he interprets as supernatural. His ministry emphasizes direct language, boundaries in interfaith friendships, and pastoral care for people harmed by churches. McLane discusses denominational disputes, civic engagement, and the role of faith in public life through initiatives such as the Black Robe Regiment and Gideon's Pledge. He shares resources via www.justinmclane.com. He lives in Tennessee and speaks widely.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen interviews Justin McLane, a pastor and combat veteran, about a trajectory from pagan practice to Christian leadership. McLane recounts a secular home, Wiccan exposure, and years of paranormal investigation before a conversion experience he frames as supernatural. He argues that pagans more readily accept spiritual realities, while atheists struggle most with the supernatural. Military service, he says, trained him to trust, persevere, and apply mission-minded discipline to faith. The discussion ranges from "church hurt" and compassionate moral speech to interfaith boundaries, denominational infighting, public polarization, and the Black Robe Regiment's call for civic engagement in contemporary America.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: You had early experiences in paganism and later developed an understanding of Christianity. How do you characterize that development over time—the introduction to the first, the transition to the latter, and your current knowledge of that trajectory, especially with the benefit of hindsight?

Pastor Justin McLane: I was raised in what I would describe as a borderline anti-Christian household. My mother is an atheist, my father is agnostic at best, and church was never a part of my life. I was introduced to paganism through a friend at school who was raised Wicca by his parents. I was living in Massachusetts at the time, and I was born there. There was a local metaphysical store run by someone I called a Wiccan high priestess, and my friend and I went there and received instruction and training. For most of my life into adulthood, including during my time in the army, I practiced paganism and became involved in paranormal investigation and related activities. Several years ago, I had an experience I interpreted as supernatural, which led me to God. I attribute my current beliefs and direction to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and I am now a lead pastor. I planted a church about a year ago. Looking back, I appreciate that earlier path because it allows me to “speak a different language,” and I think Christians often struggle to communicate because religious terminology—such as “seasons” or “salvation”—can be confusing to people outside the faith. I feel comfortable bridging the gap between non-believers and people suffering from “church hurt.” In the past—encouraged by my mother—I would go to churches, find people questioning their faith, and try to persuade them to leave. When I became a Christian, my mother stopped speaking to me, and we have not spoken in several years, which has been challenging and isolating. Many of my friends—non-Christian, LGBTQ, or atheist—also stopped speaking to me after my conversion, and I was viewed as a traitor. That isolation led me to rely more on my faith. Some conversations have resumed, while others have not. Although I regret how anti-Christian I was in the past, I believe those experiences now help me understand and communicate with people who are not believers or who have been harmed by churches. I also believe that telling someone they are “going to hell” is ineffective if that person does not believe in hell.

Jacobsen: How about the combat veteran experience? When you were signing up, where did you check the box when they asked about belief?

McLane: I was pagan. When I first enlisted, the only religions formally recognized were Christianity, Judaism, Islam, and, I believe, Hinduism. It was not until a few years after I enlisted that some pagan religions began to be recognized. On dog tags, for example, religious identification would read "Christian, non-denominational." If you were pagan, you could not list anything specific; it was left non-specific. That changed only several years later. There is a saying that there are no atheists in foxholes—that once bullets start flying, people start praying—but that is not entirely true. There are not many atheists in the military, and most people who enter military service develop some belief system because they need something larger than themselves to rely on. As a combat veteran and a pagan, I had many experiences shaped by the fact that the military culture was predominantly Christian. I often had people in my platoon—men and women—ask if they could pray for me or invite me to church.

There was one particular instance when I was deployed to Iraq in 2003, stationed in Mosul. I had been on guard duty all night and was returning to the Imperial Guard buildings where we were staying. When I reached my room, my entire platoon was waiting outside. They asked if they could pray for me. I agreed, mostly because I wanted to go to sleep. They prayed, and I went to bed. At the time, I shrugged it off. I did not really think about it again until after I became a Christian.

I had two roommates. One was a Seventh-day Adventist who was deeply involved in his church—very devout, welcoming, and kind. The other was a Southern Baptist. In the military, everyone is "green." There is less emphasis on differences between men and women or backgrounds because you are fighting alongside one another. In that sense, people are often more accepting than in civilian life.

Jacobsen: How would you describe religious experience before conversion and after conversion?

McLane: Before conversion, I would describe my experience as distinctly pagan. Pagan belief systems accept the supernatural, so when something supernatural occurred, I was more open to it. I believed there were forces and realities I could not see or fully understand, and I accepted many experiences as supernatural without much skepticism. In hindsight, my view was naive. I took many things for granted and assumed they were good when I should have questioned them more. I now interpret some of those experiences as demonic influence, based on my current beliefs, including the idea that the devil offers gifts. In paganism and related practices, such as tarot reading, there is a belief in communicating with an unseen realm.

After I became a Christian, I began attending an Assemblies of God church. I sometimes describe it as "Pentecostal light." It is a Pentecostal denomination that embraces speaking in tongues, divine healing, and the gifts of the Holy Spirit. When I spoke with my pastor, who was mentoring and counselling me, he explained these beliefs and practices. I found them intuitive and did not struggle with them. He told me that accepting the supernatural is often one of the most challenging aspects of conversion for people, but for me, it was not difficult because of my prior background.

Jacobsen: That is a very interesting framing. You rarely hear conversion discussed this way in mainstream discourse—particularly the idea that moving from paganism to Christianity can involve continuity rather than rupture in one's understanding of religious experience. That perspective is not often articulated.

McLane: I think conversion is more complex for atheists, particularly committed atheists or naturalists. My mother is one. When I was pagan, it was almost a joke in our household because she was not anti-pagan; she was anti-Christian. I would tell her I was going on a ghost investigation or casting a spell, and she would treat it dismissively, saying things like, "That's nice," and patting me on the head, because she believed none of it existed. For atheists, I think the most challenging part of moving toward religion is accepting the supernatural aspect—the idea of a God who exists outside of space and time, who is all-knowing, who intervenes in human life, along with angels, messages, and spiritual gifts. That supernatural framework is complex for them. Pagans, by contrast, tend to accept it more readily. In pagan practice, praying to an idol or statue is understood as using a conduit to communicate with a god.

What is more difficult for pagans to accept is the idea of a perfect God. In paganism, gods are fallible; they make mistakes, experience anger, and behave in recognizably human ways, as mythology illustrates. Accepting an all-knowing, all-good, all-loving God requires raising one's conceptual framework. The transition was relatively seamless for me. After the intense experience I interpreted as supernatural, it made sense to me. It took a few days to process and to re-evaluate my life up to that point, including the belief that much of what I had done was wrong. I also had to come to terms with forgiveness, alongside a lingering sense of responsibility to address past mistakes.

Jacobsen: One defining characteristic of the Christian conception of God is that God is personal. God is described as existing outside of space and time, as all-good and all-knowing. In your book God Is Personal, how do you frame that idea as the crux of the experience? Paganism involves ritual, but Christianity emphasizes a personal relationship. The standard framing is that it is not merely belief, but a relationship.

McLane: In paganism, you are often chasing the gods. There is a sense that they are indifferent or ambivalent, and you hope to gain their attention. Because they are fallible, people can see themselves reflected in them, which makes the idea of a relationship feel more accessible on the surface. In Christianity, by contrast, God is understood as the creator of the universe—vast, powerful, and beyond comprehension. That scale can make it difficult to grasp that such a God would care about individual people.

The challenge is understanding that the same God who created the stars, the universe, and even DNA also knows your name, wants to hear from you, and cares about your life. Scripture emphasizes that God calls people by name. The focus of the book is on reminding people that God is present in everyday life—at the dinner table, on the drive to work, and while listening. Paul speaks of being in a constant state of prayer, not a transactional or formulaic one. It is more like sitting with a parent and speaking honestly about hardship, responsibility, relationships, or uncertainty. Even though God is vast and powerful, He is also personal. The belief is that God wants people to include Him in their lives, to share moments with Him, and to participate in what is understood as His plan.

Jacobsen: What is the Black Robe Regiment?

McLane: The Black Robe Regiment is currently an organization of pastors, though we are expanding membership to include others. My goal, as I described it, is to address what I see as a cultural tension between politics and religion—an effort to push religion out of politics and politics out of personal life. I argue that the two are not enemies but companions, and that biblical moral principles should inform political decisions.

I described an initiative called the Gideon’s Pledge, which encourages pastors to speak about the importance of elections, civic engagement, and political participation. I emphasized that the United States is not a sacred or promised land, but it is home, and therefore something Christians should be involved in shaping.

I said many churches avoid political engagement out of fear, particularly concerns related to the Johnson Act and the potential loss of nonprofit status. I described the historical “Black Robe Regiment” as referring to the pastors who advised and guided many of the Founding Fathers, whom I characterized as predominantly churchgoing Christians. I said those pastors functioned as spiritual guides and that modern Christians should return to Scripture as a moral reference point for determining right and wrong and for helping people heal from personal and social struggles.

I cited abortion as an example of a contentious issue, arguing that prayer outside abortion clinics can be a loving act when done without coercion. I distinguished this from what I described as weaponized or hostile approaches, emphasizing that, in my view, the intention should be to offer compassion rather than impose beliefs.

I said the organization aims to help people understand politics and religion as compatible rather than opposed. I further argued that ideas such as the separation of church and state are often misunderstood, asserting that the American founding documents are rooted in Christian values. I maintained that just as Christians make personal decisions based on Scripture, political decision-making should reflect those same convictions, and I said the organization works with individuals and politicians to promote that approach.

Jacobsen: What do you believe churches misunderstand about faith?

McLane: He said he believes many churches misunderstand faith by reshaping it to conform to personal or cultural preferences. He argued that too many religious communities alter faith and Scripture to fit what people want rather than allowing faith to challenge them. He said he has observed similar dynamics in other religions, including Islam, based on his experiences in Muslim-majority countries. He quoted a saying used by an elder in his church: that there is "too much man in church and not enough God in man." He argued that when faith is altered to suit individual desires, it becomes diminished and inconsistent, leading to divergent interpretations across communities. He expressed concern about churches that normalize behaviors he considers sinful or promote universal salvation, which he described as modifying biblical teachings to suit contemporary preferences. He argued that this reverses what he believes should be the proper orientation—that individuals should change themselves to align more closely with Jesus rather than reshaping doctrine.

Jacobsen: How did military service shape your theology? You underwent intense training, encountered extreme situations, and served in countries where dominant faith traditions were very different and often more intense in their expression.

McLane: I completed two deployments. My first deployment was in a support role at a warehouse. My second deployment was in an active combat role as part of a convoy security element, where I provided security. During the second deployment, I spent significantly more time outside the wire. I ran 255 missions on the road and had much more exposure to life outside the base, observing how people lived and interacted with one another. During my first deployment, I had more one-on-one interactions with Iraqi nationals. We worked alongside Iraqi staff in the warehouse, interpreters, and local workers. That allowed me to engage with people more personally. Having both experiences gave me a broader perspective and a deeper appreciation for what we have in our own country. My military experience shaped my faith.

The military teaches you not to quit. "Suck it up and drive on" is a common phrase. I apply that mindset now when working with people whose faith is changing. In the military, you are required to do things that do not always make sense or that you may disagree with. For example, in winter, you are not allowed to put your hands in your pockets. It may seem unreasonable, but you follow the rule. When I became a Christian, I encountered things in the Bible that offended me. I had to approach that discomfort by accepting that there were reasons I did not yet understand. Unlike arbitrary military rules, I believed this guidance came from God, which required trust.

In the military, I learned to trust my equipment, my team, my squad, my platoon, and even people I did not personally know while operating in a sector. I had to trust that others were watching my back. That experience taught me how to trust and have faith. When I became a Christian and encountered teachings that challenged or offended me, I drew on that same discipline. In the military, you complete the mission. In Christianity, the mission is to follow Christ and become more like Christ. Personal opinions shaped by parents, teachers, or culture sometimes have to be set aside to trust in God. That lesson is something I carried directly from my military experience.

Jacobsen: How do you work with people in church communities who feel alienated, or with those outside the church who have experienced what is commonly referred to as "church hurt"?

McLane: I have a minimal filter. I am covered in tattoos, and my approach is often rougher than people expect. I am not everyone's cup of tea, and that is fine. When I work with people whom the church has hurt, I understand them and can empathize. In many cases, what a church did to them was genuinely wrong. Some churches and pastors have done serious harm. As Christians, we often place pastors on pedestals, and that needs to stop. As a pastor, I am not above anyone else. My role is to guide people toward Christ, and I do hold myself to a higher standard, but my own background is not perfect.

Most cases of church hurt involve judgment placed on someone after they made a mistake. I tell people that I have made the same mistakes. I am open about that because a large part of my past involved serious errors. I was an active pagan, and within Christian Scripture, paganism is described as idolatry and wrongdoing. I meet people at that level of honesty and then try to understand their specific situation.

In any form of counselling, the goal is to understand where someone is coming from and what the situation actually was. In most cases, the issue was judgment. In the area where I live, many family churches have operated the same way for generations. They have established routines and traditions they do not want to change. Everyone looks, acts, and sounds the same. That has always bothered me.

When I first started looking for a home church, I attended one where the doors were locked during services, effectively locking people inside. I could not rationalize that. I am not interested in putting other churches down, but I do believe in pointing out mistakes when they are made. When someone comes to me and says their church mistreated them, I listen. One person told me they were from a low-income family and could not afford a particular ankle-length denim skirt. As a result, they were told they could not return. I told them we are a "come as you are" church. If you look at my online sermons, you'll see that half the time I am wearing a cowboy hat, an Ariat shirt, and jeans. Scripture warns against separating ourselves from people or focusing on outward appearances. What matters is that people walk through the door. We will welcome them.

That does not mean I approve of sin. I will point out when something is wrong, but the way I do it matters. I use the example of driving with my wife in the passenger seat. If she tells me I am speeding, she is not judging me. She is simply pointing out that the speed limit on the sign and the speed on the dashboard do not match. She is stating a fact. That is the approach I believe we need to return to. I can say that something is sinful and that God disapproves of it without casting judgment. I will never tell someone they are going to hell. When people do that, they take God's judgment into their own hands and rob a person of hope. Saying "you are going to hell" shuts the door on the possibility of redemption.

What I tell people is that what I preach is not original. I did not invent it. I read books, studied Scripture, and I share what I have learned. What someone does with that information is their choice. If they want to move closer to Christ, they are welcome at my church. If my church is not the right fit, I am happy to help them find another one. I know many pastors. We need to stop condemning people and stop telling them they are doomed. We can say something is wrong and that God disapproves, but judgment belongs to God alone.

Jacobsen: How do you approach interfaith efforts, especially given your background, which on the surface appears to involve very different theological and philosophical frameworks—from paganism to Christianity? Whether you are hosting an interfaith event or simply engaging in dialogue, what characterizes healthy interfaith engagement in a politically charged moment like the one we are in now? And conversely, what characterizes unhealthy dialogue so we can consciously lean toward the former?

McLane: As I mentioned earlier, many of my friends from before I became a Christian stopped speaking to me because there were things I could no longer endorse. One of the major issues now is what is often described as the LGBTQ movement. I had previously participated in Pride parades, worn "dad hugs" shirts, and publicly supported those causes, but after becoming a Christian, I felt the need to reassess that support. Many people did not respond well to that change. I still love them, and I still have a small number of friends who are pagan and who identify as LGBTQ. We have conversations, sometimes difficult ones, but the key elements are boundaries, respect, and an understanding that we can agree to disagree. When those conditions are met, relationships can continue healthily.

One of my friends is Wiccan. Early on, she set clear boundaries and told me she was not interested in being evangelized. I respect that. On my side, she understands that I am a pastor, that I have written a book, that I am working on a workshop, and that Scripture plays a significant role in my life. When I talk about faith, I am not trying to change her; I am sharing information and explaining why I believe what I believe. We have that mutual understanding and can agree to disagree. I explain that, according to my faith and experience, there are consequences tied to certain beliefs and actions. She understands that perspective, and I do not need to press the issue repeatedly. I can acknowledge why she believes as she does, based on my own past, while also being clear that I no longer share those beliefs. We recognize the disagreement and move on.

There have also been moments when she has asked me to pray for her, including during a problematic relationship. She made it clear she was not a Christian, but still asked for prayer. That matters from my perspective. Pagans generally accept multiple pantheons and belief systems, so asking for prayer is not unusual. It is rarely an outright rejection of God; more often, it is skepticism toward exclusivity. When she asked me to pray, I saw that as meaningful. I once heard a pastor say that it can take many interactions—sometimes over a hundred—for someone to come to faith. Occasionally, you are the first person in that process. That is often what people think of as mission work. In places like New England, including Massachusetts, some people have never attended church, read the Bible, or meaningfully encountered Christianity.

Jacobsen: Many major universities, especially around Boston, were originally founded by Christian denominations.

McLane: Yes. In fact, the concept of the university itself developed within religious contexts. It was initially a way for people to gather and engage with Scripture and theology.

Jacobsen: Before that, you had Aristotle's Lyceum and Plato's Academy, and later, in the eleventh or twelfth century, what we now recognize as universities began to emerge in places like Italy. Some of those institutions still exist today.

McLane: It is on my list of places to visit. There is also a beautiful monastery not too far from there. I learned that you can stay in monasteries and convents for a nominal charge. There are certain expectations you have to follow, but it is possible to travel through Italy or Greece and stay in old convents. Many of them rent rooms because their memberships have declined, leaving extra space, and they regularly host pilgrims.

Jacobsen: Part of American public discourse is fragmented for political reasons and socioeconomic divides. Another major factor is that the religious landscape in the United States is far more diverse than it has been for at least a couple of centuries. We have seen a double-digit decline in Christian belief across the population, with nonbelief and minority religions filling that gap. How do you think this shift is changing public interfaith dialogue and the way faith is discussed in public life?

McLane: Many factors play into that. First, we are actually seeing a resurgence in some areas. Church attendance numbers are beginning to rise again. At the same time, we are seeing increasing polarization in media, culture, and politics. In the past, strong pro-religion or anti-religion views were more confined to the fringes. Now, more people are openly identifying with one side or the other.

In Hollywood and the music industry, it was once common for award recipients to thank God and move on casually. Now, you are seeing more public declarations of belief or disbelief, sometimes to people's benefit and sometimes to their detriment. That same polarization is visible in everyday life. People are no longer occupying a middle ground. It is increasingly one side or the other.

There are public figures who once avoided clear religious or political identification and are now openly declaring their positions. In the past, that might have damaged a career; today, it can rally support just as easily. You see similar dynamics at work in corporations and cultural debates. These conversations are becoming more heated, and the ability to disagree politely is diminishing. I hope things cool down enough for people to come back to the table and talk without conflict, but realistically, division may deepen before it improves.

Jacobsen: I once knew someone connected to the World War II–era healing revival movement. Figures like William Branham made prophecies, reframed errors as failed predictions, and maintained large followings despite apparent contradictions. Those communities still exist, with millions of adherents. In Canada, where I lived for a time, I knew someone whose father would appear infrequently and spend his visits rebuking everyone around him. It created resentment and distance, even without overt hostility.

Using that as an analogy, there are pastors who engage with other denominations primarily through rebuke, without tact or care. How do you approach interdenominational dialogue within Christianity—especially around political messaging—without becoming the proverbial parent who shows up only to criticize everyone?

McLane: I am currently working on a book titled Christianity from the Outside. In it, interdenominational disagreements have been exaggerated far beyond their actual importance. Doctrinal disputes—such as Calvinism versus Arminianism—have been held onto so tightly that they have become identity markers. There is a joke that always makes me laugh: someone asks, "Are you a Christian?" and the response is, "No, thank God, I'm a Baptist."

Jacobsen: That mirrors a very Irish mentality. In Ireland, especially in the 1990s, you would hear stories of people being cornered and asked whether they were Protestant or Catholic, not out of theological curiosity but to decide whether they were an enemy. If someone said they were an atheist, the follow-up question would be, "A Catholic atheist or a Protestant atheist?"

McLane: Unfortunately, these kinds of doctrinal arguments have distracted us from addressing much larger issues. We argue endlessly over questions like free will versus the sovereignty of God—Calvinism versus Arminianism—and divide ourselves into camps and denominations. Because of that, when pastors encounter teachings that undermine core Christian doctrines, they struggle to challenge them effectively.

For example, there are pastors promoting versions of universal salvation or claiming that sin no longer exists. I have seen sermons from pastors in liturgical traditions—Lutheran, Episcopalian, Anglican—who argue that we should ignore large portions of Scripture, including much of Paul's writing, and focus only on selective passages from the Gospels. When pastors object to this, the response is often to dismiss the criticism as just another denominational disagreement, similar to Calvinism versus Arminianism.

I do not see those issues as comparable. Whether one emphasizes free will or divine sovereignty, the core message of salvation remains intact. What I am describing directly contradicts foundational Christian teachings on salvation and repentance. In some cases, Scripture is rejected because it is considered offensive. I recently watched a video in which a pastor criticized John the Baptist for using harsh language when rebuking the Pharisees, comparing him unfavorably to modern political figures. What that pastor ignored is that Jesus later rebukes the Pharisees in nearly identical terms. By reframing Scripture this way, people end up reshaping Christianity to fit their own preferences.

When those reinterpretations are accepted, people begin rejecting the teachings of Jesus himself. Yet these issues are often treated as minor disagreements, on par with debates over personal style or church culture. I have encountered many such disputes. I once suggested in a sermon that introversion could conflict with the Great Commission, which calls believers to evangelize and make disciples. Some people strongly objected. These disagreements can spiral quickly.

To refocus on essentials, we began reciting the Nicene Creed every Sunday. It outlines the foundational beliefs of Christianity. The problem is that Christians have spent so much time arguing over secondary issues that they end up excluding others, threatening damnation over personal interpretations, and elevating opinion to doctrine. That makes it harder to hold people accountable on truly central issues of faith, because endless arguments consume energy over minor points.

Jacobsen: Where do you see the most significant political friction for believers now—particularly within their own internal conversations about faith and public life?

McLane: I think the most significant areas of division are still abortion, LGBTQ issues, and education. Education has increasingly been framed as a divide between homeschooling, often associated with Christianity, and public schooling, viewed as secular. Those are the three most enormous rifts. Abortion is usually treated as a binary issue. From a Christian perspective, I understand why it is viewed that way, because it is seen as the taking of a life. On LGBTQ issues, I believe much of the damage has come from judgmental language. Instead of telling people they are going to hell, the focus should be on explaining beliefs more carefully and compassionately. Eventually, Christian doctrine does assert moral boundaries, but how that message is delivered matters. This issue has become even more complicated because divisions now exist within churches themselves, including congregations that openly affirm LGBTQ identities. That creates confusion about boundaries and beliefs.

Education has also become a growing point of division. When my children were young, homeschooling was not widely accepted, and there was a stereotype that homeschooled children were undereducated. Today, homeschooling resources are extensive, including co-ops, online programs, and curricula, many of which come from Christian sources. Despite common jokes that Christians rely on outdated ideas, religious institutions historically played a central role in education. Churches founded many universities and originally included religious instruction. Jewish communities emphasized literacy so Scripture could be read, and Christianity continued that tradition. The development of books was closely tied to making Scripture accessible.

Today, education debates are increasingly polarized, and funding plays a significant role. Public schools, especially in inner cities, often rely on enrollment-based financing, so when families choose homeschooling, public schools lose resources, further disadvantaging remaining students. I understand why families want the best education possible for their children, regardless of the format. What's more, these often become adversarial instead of focusing on shared goals and structural solutions. Whether broader institutions like the Department of Education should be reformed or eliminated is a separate discussion, but education has clearly become a major political flashpoint.

Jacobsen: Is there anything else you would like to promote or mention?

McLane: We discussed my book earlier. The book will be accompanied by a complete workshop, both of which are available through my website. The book introduces the idea of developing a personal relationship with God, and the workshop expands on those ideas in more depth. The workshop is structured into twelve chapters, each about an hour long, allowing participants to work through it over an extended period. A workbook will also be included. I am available to speak at conferences and churches, and my focus is on helping people cultivate a personal relationship with God. Church attendance and fellowship are essential, but faith and salvation are personal. Families need to return to shared practices like prayer, gratitude, and mutual support. Many of these traditions have faded, and I see value in restoring them.

Jacobsen: Justin, thank you.

McLane: Thank you very much, Scott.

Jacobsen: Have a great day, enjoy East Tennessee, and Merry Christmas!.

McLane: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Scott Douglas Jacobsen is the publisher of In-Sight Publishing (ISBN: 978-1-0692343) and Editor-in-Chief of In-Sight: Interviews (ISSN: 2369-6885). He writes for The Good Men Project, International Policy Digest (ISSN: 2332–9416), The Humanist (Print: ISSN 0018-7399; Online: ISSN 2163-3576), Basic Income Earth Network (UK Registered Charity 1177066), A Further Inquiry, and other media. He is a member in good standing of numerous media organizations.