Those questions belong at The Redemption Project. So do the records, public decisions, and unanswered questions that deserve careful reporting.

I also want a clearly identified place to share my own perspective. That is why I created The Brandon Burley Perspective, a separate Substack. Here is how the two fit together.

What The Redemption Project is here to do

I think of The Redemption Project as my ministry of information. It brings together people who have been incarcerated, faith in God, civic understanding, and good work in our communities.

We listen to people describe the lives they lived, the turning points they experienced, and the work of rebuilding. We hear from the ministries, organizations, and neighbors helping make that work possible. We examine the systems and public decisions that shape their lives and ours.

Investigative journalism remains part of that mission. We are still getting to the bottom of things: examining documents, asking follow-up questions, tracing decisions, and distinguishing what the evidence establishes from what remains unresolved. A commitment to redemption does not remove the need for accountability. Faith does not replace the work of reporting.

What you will find at The Brandon Burley Perspective

At The Brandon Burley Perspective, you will hear more directly from me. It is the home for my reflections on faith, public life, books, the classroom, accountability, and redemption—and for ordinary life beyond the headlines.

The emphasis shifts from giving someone else room to tell their story to sharing what I think, what I am reading, and the questions I am working through. When I offer an interpretation, it should be recognizable as my interpretation. The obligation to get the facts right remains.

You can begin with my welcome essay, my review of J. I. Packer’s Knowing God, or my reflection on what a second chance actually requires:

The Brandon Burley Perspective

Welcome to The Brandon Burley Perspective

I’m a Christian first and an American who deeply loves his country. That’s where this starts…

Read more

12 days ago

The Brandon Burley Perspective

Knowing God — J. I. Packer | Book Review

Knowing about God should change how we live before God…

Read more

2 days ago · 1 like

The Brandon Burley Perspective

What Does a Second Chance Actually Require?

Everybody likes the idea of a second chance until somebody asks what it requires. Then the easy agreement disappears. One person hears permission to escape consequences. Another hears a promise that the past can never be mentioned again. Neither is what I mean by redemption…

Read more

8 days ago · The Redemption Project

An invitation to join me there

If you value The Redemption Project and would also like to read my personal essays and book reviews, please subscribe to The Brandon Burley Perspective. The publications have separate subscriptions, so joining one does not automatically add you to the other.

Read and subscribe here:

https://thebrandonburleyperspective.substack.com/subscribe

The Perspective’s content is currently free, and I intend to keep it that way. Optional support helps keep that work going; reading it is free.

Thank you for making room for both the people whose stories deserve to be heard and the careful conversations those stories can begin.

—Brandon

Brandon L. Burley, MPA, is the founder of The Redemption Project, a ministry of information connecting faith in God, people rebuilding after incarceration, civic understanding, and good work in our communities. A retired detective, criminal justice and government educator, and journalist based in Tennessee, he brings human dignity and accountability into the same conversation. TRP shares redemption stories, examines how public systems work, and pursues independent investigative journalism by following evidence and asking difficult questions.

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Aaron Kinzel joins Brandon Burley for a conversation that holds responsibility and rehabilitation together. Kinzel recounts serious harm in his past, the years he spent incarcerated, and the education and relationships that helped him build a different life. He does not present that history as something a degree erases.

Instead, the conversation asks what communities gain when people leaving prison have the preparation, support, and accountability to become good neighbors.

Taking responsibility without giving up on change

Kinzel describes growing up around violence and incarceration across generations of his family. Those experiences are part of his explanation of how he understood the world as a young person. They are not a claim that the harm he caused did not matter.

Brandon and Aaron return repeatedly to that distinction. Understanding how someone arrived at a destructive decision can help us think about prevention. It does not require denying the people who were put at risk.

The people who saw another possibility

Education gave Kinzel a direction to pursue. Mentorship helped turn that direction into something he could act on. He speaks about people inside the prison system—including correctional staff—who challenged him, took him seriously, and helped him imagine a future beyond the identity attached to his record.

Those relationships also complicated a simple “us versus them” view of the justice system. He describes continuing conversations with people in law enforcement, corrections, and public administration, and learning from people whose backgrounds differed sharply from his own.

A public-safety question

One of Brandon’s central questions is why someone who primarily cares about victims and public safety should care about education in prison. Kinzel answers by asking listeners to think about who eventually comes home—and what that person has had an opportunity to learn before returning.

The conversation extends beyond one person. Family relationships, employment, community participation, and the example set for children all enter the discussion. Kinzel’s own account connects the opportunity he received with an obligation to contribute.

Where they agree—and where they differ

This is not a conversation in which every question lands on a tidy consensus. Aaron and Brandon discuss forgiveness, responsibility, repeated chances, and the limits of what anyone can do for a person who is not ready to change. Their exchange leaves room for disagreement while continuing to ask what makes a community safer.

In this episode

• Aaron’s account of incarceration, responsibility, and change.

• Education and mentorship inside prison.

• Building relationships across the justice system.

• Connecting reentry opportunities with public safety.

• Why a record should not be the whole story of a life.

Recorded September 28, 2026. Content note: Includes descriptions of violence, incarceration, and adult language. Personal recollections and opinions are presented as the speakers’ accounts.

What would you want a person returning to your neighborhood to have learned—and what opportunity would you be willing to help create?

I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets.

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Those distinctions sit at the heart of this week’s recommendation: Laura on Reentry: Support Beyond the Gate. In our conversation, Laura and I explore the distance between a plan on paper and support a person can actually reach after incarceration.

Housing, transportation, continuity of care, paperwork, and relationships do not exist in separate boxes in someone’s day. One missing piece can make the next step much harder.

Try the first-step test

Here is a small exercise for this week. Take one plan you are helping put into practice—at work, in a volunteer role, or in your own life—and walk through its first step.

1. Name the action. Replace “get connected” with something observable: call a particular office, find the form, or confirm an appointment.

2. Check what that action requires. A working phone? Transportation? Identification? Time away from work? Ask rather than assume.

3. Identify the fallback. If the call is unanswered or the form is confusing, what happens next—and who can help clarify it?

This is not a test of someone’s motivation. It is a test of whether the plan accounts for the day they actually have.

Laura’s conversation also considers privacy, shame, family relationships, and the value of having someone help navigate a difficult conversation. It gives us a useful question to carry into our own work: Have we offered a resource, or helped make it reachable?

Listen to Laura on Reentry: Support Beyond the Gate →

The episode is about 14 minutes. Its examples reflect the conversation and particular experiences; programs and access requirements vary by place and time.

From our own shelves and shop

Owned-product advertising: the book, apparel, and course below are part of Brandon Burley’s businesses. They are separate from the guest interview; no guest endorsement is implied.

A weekly structure for reading Scripture

Walking Through the Word: One Story. One Savior. One Faithful God. follows the Bible from Genesis to Revelation over 52 weeks. Focused readings, historical and biblical context, application, and discussion questions give each week a starting point.

The Kindle edition is available to preorder for November 18, 2026. This is an upcoming release, not an ebook available to read today.

As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

View the Kindle preorder on Amazon (paid link)

Every Story Matters

The Every Story Matters unisex hoodie pairs a small TRP front graphic with a bold back statement. It is a reminder of a principle behind this project: a person is more than a label or a difficult chapter.

Made to order. Check the size guide before buying; shipping is charged at checkout.

See the hoodie, fit details, and size guide

Practice the next justified step

Evidence Before Conclusions is an online course built around the Northbridge Procurement Review case. Its learning outcomes include tracing claims to root sources, identifying what a record does and does not support, and documenting the next justified action.

That last skill matters: a careful conclusion should help you explain what you can responsibly do next.

Explore the course and its learning outcomes

If you only have time for one thing this week, listen to Laura. Then take one plan you care about and ask what its first step really requires.

— Brandon

Then her papaw arrived.

She had not known he was coming. She also knew she had hurt him, just as she had hurt other people who loved her. He came anyway.

He offered her a place to recover. There would be meals, prayer and someone who wanted her to live. There would also be rules.

“He showed up for me with open arms, with rules,” she said.

That is where Scarlett places a turning point in her story. What followed took months of care and years of work.

Before the crisis

Scarlett describes herself as a quiet student who played sports and earned good grades. She married young, became a mother and bought a home. Addiction was not the future she imagined.

After her second daughter was born, she developed persistent stomach problems. She says a long search for answers eventually led to a Crohn’s disease diagnosis and, late in 2017, a referral to a pain clinic.

At the same time, her marriage was struggling and she was grieving a family death. She began misusing prescribed pain medication, then sought pills elsewhere. Her account describes a progression to heroin and five years in active addiction.

The consequences reached her children. She signed emergency custody over to her mother. The home was sold. Relationships deteriorated. She made several attempts at rehabilitation, but recovery did not hold.

Scarlett does not leave those losses out of her testimony. Rebuilding the relationships would eventually require facing what had happened to them.

Surviving did not settle everything

By the summer of 2022, Scarlett says she was severely underweight and had lost the ability to walk. Her account includes bowel blockages, hospital stays, malnutrition and being told she might die.

Her thoughts turned to her daughters. She wanted them to know she loved them. She also wanted them to understand that her addiction was not their fault.

Even after that health crisis, she returned to heroin and overdosed. She describes emergency treatment and another hospital discharge before the moment her grandfather came to get her.

The danger had been real. So had the difficulty of changing. Her story does not become understandable by assuming that one frightening experience should have made everything easy afterward.

A home with boundaries

At her papaw’s house, care became practical.

He cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner. He prayed for her. Phone access was limited. There were expectations about staying at the house and following its routines. She had to make her bed.

Scarlett says she was angry about the restrictions at first. Looking back, she describes his help as the best thing that happened to her.

Faith also became personal in a different way. She had grown up in church, but remembers kneeling beside the bed when her stomach problems returned and praying:

“Lord, I’m gonna do it your way, ’cause my way’s killing me.”

This time, she called her father for help. He took her to the hospital. She says she was admitted and underwent surgery for a bowel blockage. Her mother and other relatives came to see her.

Afterward, she returned to her grandfather’s home to recover. She began walking better and noticing ordinary changes in herself: wanting to wash dishes, pick up after herself and participate in daily life.

Her account holds faith and practical care together. It includes medical treatment, a stable place to recover and therapy she began while living with her papaw. She continued therapy for roughly two and a half years.

Learning to be present again

After about four months, Scarlett wanted to move back into her mother’s home, where her children were living.

“I’m ready to be a mom again,” she remembers saying.

Being under the same roof brought joy. It also exposed how much she had missed. She did not know the everyday details of her daughters’ lives, including their favorite foods.

Being home was a beginning. It did not automatically restore trust.

“Trust isn’t, it’s not built back overnight,” she said.

That part of the story matters. A family can welcome someone back and still need time. A parent can be committed to recovery and still have relationships to repair. Scarlett describes trying, continuing therapy and learning how to be present.

Four years later

Scarlett celebrated four years sober in July 2026. She says she now has full custody of her children and works full time for an employer she had worked for before addiction.

She is also sharing her experience in jails, recovery settings and schools. Returning to Clinton High School, where she graduated, was especially meaningful. She has spoken at Susannah’s House in Knoxville, where the presence of mothers and their children connected closely with her own experience.

Her life is still being built. She talks about wanting a place of her own and the cost of getting there. Four years sober does not mean every difficulty has disappeared.

It means the story continued.

When her grandfather arrived outside that hospital, he could offer a home and his presence. Scarlett would still have to take part in the work that followed. Today, she can tell other people what that work made possible: being a mother again, returning to employment and finding a purpose in sharing her experience.

The woman who once stood outside with nowhere to go is now standing in front of other people, telling them there can be a way forward.

Hear Scarlett’s full conversation

Scarlett’s full conversation is now available as Season 2, Episode 30 of The Redemption Project Podcast. Watch or listen on this page, or listen on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/redemption-story-of-the-week-scarlett-her-papaw/id1864236260?i=1000798977149

Subscribe to The Redemption Project Newsroom on Substack for automatic updates when new stories and episodes are published.

This story is based on Scarlett’s account in her interview with Brandon Burley. Her medical history and recovery experiences are presented as she described them.

The Redemption Project Newsroom is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets.

Subscribe now

Scarlett was outside the hospital with nowhere to go.

She had survived an overdose. She was still weak after a severe health crisis. In our conversation, she described leaning against the hospital building, uncertain what would happen next.

Then her papaw arrived.

She had not known he was coming. She also knew she had hurt him, just as she had hurt other people who loved her. He came anyway.

He offered her a place to recover. There would be meals, prayer and someone who wanted her to live. There would also be rules.

“He showed up for me with open arms, with rules,” she said.

That is where Scarlett places a turning point in her story. What followed took months of care and years of work.

Before the crisis

Scarlett describes herself as a quiet student who played sports and earned good grades. She married young, became a mother and bought a home. Addiction was not the future she imagined.

After her second daughter was born, she developed persistent stomach problems. She says a long search for answers eventually led to a Crohn’s disease diagnosis and, late in 2017, a referral to a pain clinic.

At the same time, her marriage was struggling and she was grieving a family death. She began misusing prescribed pain medication, then sought pills elsewhere. Her account describes a progression to heroin and five years in active addiction.

The consequences reached her children. She signed emergency custody over to her mother. The home was sold. Relationships deteriorated. She made several attempts at rehabilitation, but recovery did not hold.

Scarlett does not leave those losses out of her testimony. Rebuilding the relationships would eventually require facing what had happened to them.

Surviving did not settle everything

By the summer of 2022, Scarlett says she was severely underweight and had lost the ability to walk. Her account includes bowel blockages, hospital stays, malnutrition and being told she might die.

Her thoughts turned to her daughters. She wanted them to know she loved them. She also wanted them to understand that her addiction was not their fault.

Even after that health crisis, she returned to heroin and overdosed. She describes emergency treatment and another hospital discharge before the moment her grandfather came to get her.

The danger had been real. So had the difficulty of changing. Her story does not become understandable by assuming that one frightening experience should have made everything easy afterward.

A home with boundaries

At her papaw’s house, care became practical.

He cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner. He prayed for her. Phone access was limited. There were expectations about staying at the house and following its routines. She had to make her bed.

Scarlett says she was angry about the restrictions at first. Looking back, she describes his help as the best thing that happened to her.

Faith also became personal in a different way. She had grown up in church, but remembers kneeling beside the bed when her stomach problems returned and praying:

“Lord, I’m gonna do it your way, ’cause my way’s killing me.”

This time, she called her father for help. He took her to the hospital. She says she was admitted and underwent surgery for a bowel blockage. Her mother and other relatives came to see her.

Afterward, she returned to her grandfather’s home to recover. She began walking better and noticing ordinary changes in herself: wanting to wash dishes, pick up after herself and participate in daily life.

Her account holds faith and practical care together. It includes medical treatment, a stable place to recover and therapy she began while living with her papaw. She continued therapy for roughly two and a half years.

Learning to be present again

After about four months, Scarlett wanted to move back into her mother’s home, where her children were living.

“I’m ready to be a mom again,” she remembers saying.

Being under the same roof brought joy. It also exposed how much she had missed. She did not know the everyday details of her daughters’ lives, including their favorite foods.

Being home was a beginning. It did not automatically restore trust.

“Trust isn’t, it’s not built back overnight,” she said.

That part of the story matters. A family can welcome someone back and still need time. A parent can be committed to recovery and still have relationships to repair. Scarlett describes trying, continuing therapy and learning how to be present.

Four years later

Scarlett celebrated four years sober in July 2026. She says she now has full custody of her children and works full time for an employer she had worked for before addiction.

She is also sharing her experience in jails, recovery settings and schools. Returning to Clinton High School, where she graduated, was especially meaningful. She has spoken at Susannah’s House in Knoxville, where the presence of mothers and their children connected closely with her own experience.

Her life is still being built. She talks about wanting a place of her own and the cost of getting there. Four years sober does not mean every difficulty has disappeared.

It means the story continued.

When her grandfather arrived outside that hospital, he could offer a home and his presence. Scarlett would still have to take part in the work that followed. Today, she can tell other people what that work made possible: being a mother again, returning to employment and finding a purpose in sharing her experience.

The woman who once stood outside with nowhere to go is now standing in front of other people, telling them there can be a way forward.

Hear Scarlett’s full conversation

Scarlett’s episode of The Redemption Project Podcast releases Friday, October 30, 2026, at 5 p.m. Eastern on YouTube, Spotify, Apple Podcasts and the TRP website.

Subscribe to The Redemption Project Newsroom on Substack for automatic updates when new stories and episodes are published.

This story is based on Scarlett’s account in her interview with Brandon Burley. Her medical history and recovery experiences are presented as she described them.

An appointment can be arranged on paper. Getting someone there is a different problem.

Laura and Brandon Burley discuss the practical gaps people may face when leaving incarceration: housing, continuity of care, transportation, relationships, and the confidence to ask for help. The conversation brings lived experience and community outreach into the same discussion as rehabilitation.

What happens when the door opens?

Laura describes trying to connect people with support while they are still preparing for release. Brandon asks how appointments and plans translate into something a person can actually use. A destination means little if transportation, paperwork, or access falls through.

Their examples focus on coordination. These are questions about support systems, not instructions for a listener’s treatment.

More than a checklist

The discussion also considers privacy, shame, family relationships, and the different social expectations people encounter after release. Laura talks about the role of an advocate who can help someone navigate a difficult conversation or try again after a discouraging response.

Brandon explains his interest in bringing research, professional practice, and lived experience into a shared body of information. Their conversation closes with the possibility of working together.

Context for this archived conversation

Statements about particular facilities, voting figures, program results, medication provision, and appointment rules reflect the speakers’ recollections and have not all been independently verified. They may vary by location or have changed. The conversation is not individual medical or legal advice; treatment decisions belong with qualified clinicians.

Where do you see the biggest gap between a plan for release and the support available afterward?

I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets.

Subscribe now

This week, I want to offer a smaller question: What is still yours to do today?

Listen: how Baba describes the waiting

In the latest Redemption Story conversation, Baba describes reading Scripture, joining a fellowship and eventually taking on responsibility for other people while he was in detention. He talks about wanting to go home while learning to serve where he was.

This is his account of faith and personal change. The episode’s accompanying article distinguishes his testimony from legal claims that have not been independently established. Finding meaning in suffering does not make the suffering right, or guarantee a satisfying ending.

Listen to Baba’s full conversation

If you open one link this week, start there. Content note: the conversation discusses detention, fear and difficult conditions in custody.

A small practice for an uncertain week

Take a sheet of paper and make two columns: What I can act on and What I cannot resolve today. Put one specific, modest action in the first column—a phone call, a page of reading, a question for the right person. Let the second column stay unresolved for now.

This is a reflection exercise, not a promise that effort will fix everything. It is a way to choose a useful next step without pretending to control the outcome.

Advertisement · Books, learning and apparel from our businesses

The following are paid products from Brandon Burley, Project Forge Books and The Redemption Project. Purchases support our businesses. These selections are separate from Baba’s interview; no guest endorsement is implied.

Preview: a steadier way through Scripture

Walking Through the Word: One Story. One Savior. One Faithful God. by Brandon Burley offers 52 weekly steps through Scripture’s connected story. For readers who know individual Bible stories but want to see how they fit together, it is designed to support a sustained reading practice.

The Kindle edition is available for preorder, with a November 18, 2026 release date. This is a preorder, not immediate ebook access.

Preorder the Kindle edition on Amazon (paid link). As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.

Learn: say only what the evidence supports

Evidence Before Conclusions is our online course on separating records, claims and inference. One practical learning outcome is tracing a claim to its root source and stating a conclusion in proportion to the evidence. That matters when uncertainty makes a confident explanation especially tempting.

See the course and learning outcomes.

Wear: Known by Love

The Known by Love | TRP Original Tee pairs black typography with a light cotton tee, inspired by John 13:35. It has a unisex fit and is made to order through Printful. Check the selected color, available size and size chart before buying; shipping is additional and calculated at checkout.

See Known by Love, sizing and delivery details.

What is one useful thing you can do while another question remains unanswered? You are welcome to reply without sharing anyone else’s private circumstances. Thank you for being part of The Redemption Project.

Baba had no idea that renting an apartment for a few days would change the direction of his life.

In 2021, he needed to conduct business in another part of Lagos, Nigeria. Rather than travel back and forth across the city, he arranged a short stay in an Airbnb-style apartment.

It was an ordinary decision.

He completed his stay and left.

According to Baba, a murder occurred in the neighboring apartment a day or two later. He says he did not know the victim, had never met him and had no connection to the crime.

But the victim was reportedly the owner of a media company, and the killing attracted significant attention.

Within weeks, Baba found himself at the center of a criminal investigation he says he had nothing to do with.

What followed would leave him fearing for his life, confronting his understanding of faith and eventually writing a book with a title that captures how he came to interpret the experience:

How God Arrested Me.

When I spoke with Baba on The Redemption Project Podcast, I expected to hear the story of a man who said he had been falsely accused of murder.

That is part of his story.

But he was far more interested in telling me what happened inside him while he waited for freedom.

An Arrest Without Answers

Baba grew up in a relatively comfortable Nigerian family. He received much of his education in the United Kingdom, attending school in Scotland and studying at universities in Hull and Edinburgh.

He had opportunities, education and family connections.

He was accustomed to navigating the world with some measure of security.

Then, one evening in Lagos, that security disappeared.

About two or three weeks after the murder, Baba says he stepped outside his home in a gated residential estate to take a walk and use his phone.

Two men approached him.

They had a photograph.

They appeared to recognize his face, although Baba says they initially had the wrong first name.

Before he could understand what was happening, he was forced to the ground and handcuffed.

Residents and security personnel challenged the men. According to Baba, weapons were produced, and the crowd backed away.

In the confusion, he managed to pass his phone to a resident, who contacted his girlfriend and father.

That may have been one of the most important things he did that evening.

At least someone knew he had been taken.

Baba says the men did not initially tell him why he was being arrested. They placed him inside a vehicle with darkened windows and drove away.

He feared he was being kidnapped.

Nigeria has experienced serious problems involving kidnapping and ransom demands, and Baba says he had no immediate way to distinguish what was happening to him from the stories he had heard.

He began pleading for his life.

He even offered money.

Only after arriving at a police station did he learn that the authorities were questioning him about a murder.

Investigators showed him a news clipping concerning the killing.

The location was familiar.

It was the apartment building where he had stayed.

Suddenly, an ordinary lodging decision had become the apparent connection between Baba and a homicide investigation.

He asked for a lawyer and resisted pressure, as he describes it, to provide a written statement without legal counsel.

Then he was locked up.

The First Night

Baba’s description of his first night in detention was difficult to hear.

He recalled entering a crowded room where people were sleeping on top of one another.

There was little space.

Rats moved through the area.

The smell of urine and human waste filled the room.

He said he spent much of that first night standing against a wall, unable to sleep, trying to understand how his life had reached this point.

This was not the life he recognized.

He had grown up with advantages.

He had studied abroad.

He had family members working to secure his release.

Now he was in a cell with people accused of serious crimes, uncertain about what would happen next.

He was also frightened by what he had heard about the treatment of detainees at the facility. In our conversation, Baba alleged that people could disappear from custody, particularly when no one outside knew where they were.

Those claims were part of his account and have not been independently established for this article.

But whether the danger he feared would actually materialize or not, his terror was real.

He did not know when he would leave.

He did not know what authorities would do.

And he did not know whether his family’s resources could protect him.

Then he began reading a Bible.

When Every Connection Seems Powerless

Baba had been a Christian long before his arrest.

He told me he committed his life to Christ when he was about 10 years old and had maintained some level of prayer and belief throughout his life.

But he made an important distinction.

He had known about God.

He had not always surrendered the direction of his life to God.

Inside the cell, those two realities began to collide.

He started reading the Psalms.

He reflected on the people he knew, the opportunities he had enjoyed and the influence his family might be able to exercise.

Yet he increasingly felt that none of those connections could determine when he would be released.

He described sensing a message in his heart: His release would happen in God’s time, not simply because he knew the right people.

He also believed he had a purpose inside the detention facility.

That was not the answer he wanted.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted the accusation resolved.

He wanted to return to the life he understood.

Instead, he began confronting something far more personal.

His pride.

His dependence on circumstances he thought he could control.

And his reluctance to surrender when the outcome was uncertain.

I have heard many stories of people encountering God during incarceration. Some were serving sentences for crimes they acknowledged committing. Others were struggling with circumstances they believed were unjust.

What interested me about Baba’s experience was that he did not describe his faith merely as a way of getting through the confinement.

He believed God was asking him to do something while he was there.

Worshipping Beside Men He Had Already Judged

At some point during his detention, Baba says he was moved from the severely overcrowded general holding area to a smaller section.

There, he encountered a Christian fellowship.

He described a system in which detainees’ names, numbers and alleged offenses were called aloud.

It meant he had some idea of what the men around him had been accused of doing.

One young man particularly disturbed him.

Baba recalled being told that the man had committed multiple killings.

Yet when Baba entered the fellowship, he saw that same man worshipping, praying and seeking God’s forgiveness.

He struggled with what he was witnessing.

How could someone accused of such terrible acts stand beside him and ask for the same mercy?

Was forgiveness really available to that man?

And if it was, what did that say about Baba’s own understanding of grace?

He began realizing that he was evaluating the people around him according to the crimes associated with their names.

He had placed himself in a different moral category.

He believed he was innocent of the charge against him, but he also recognized that innocence of a particular criminal accusation did not make him morally perfect.

The distinction changed his perspective.

Christianity teaches that human beings fall short of God’s standard and that grace is not earned through a comparison of who has committed the worst offense.

That does not eliminate accountability.

It does not erase the suffering of victims.

It does not make every act equally harmful.

But it does challenge the assumption that some people are beyond the reach of repentance and mercy.

Baba told me this encounter forced him to reconsider how he saw the men around him.

Rather than looking down on them, he began joining them in fellowship.

And soon, he would be asked to lead.

The Unexpected Prison Preacher

Baba had not entered detention intending to become a preacher.

He did not consider himself qualified.

But he began participating in the fellowship, reading Scripture and offering prayers.

The man leading the group eventually gave him more responsibility.

Then, according to Baba, that man was released.

Before leaving, he handed over his notes and told Baba to take over.

Suddenly, Baba was responsible for leading the very fellowship he had initially approached with uncertainty.

He remembered turning to 1 Corinthians 13, the biblical passage about love.

It was an appropriate place to begin.

The chapter describes love as patient and kind, rejecting pride, resentment and self-interest.

Those are challenging instructions under ordinary circumstances.

Inside a detention cell, surrounded by people with vastly different histories and facing his own uncertain future, the teaching carried a different weight.

Baba began preaching and leading conversations about Scripture.

He also described friendships with Muslim detainees, including an imam, and conversations about prayer and faith across religious differences.

He believed the experience was transforming his understanding of compassion.

He was no longer simply waiting for someone outside to solve his problem.

He was being asked to serve people inside the same difficult circumstances.

The Hardest Part Was Waiting

One of Baba’s observations stayed with me.

The hardest part of confinement, he said, was the waiting.

A person awaiting trial waits for answers.

A person serving a sentence waits for release.

A person facing an uncertain accusation waits without knowing which outcome is coming.

Time becomes something different when you have no control over what happens next.

Baba described lawyers and family members visiting him and offering encouraging updates.

He was told progress was being made.

He was given expectations about when he might leave.

Yet he remained in custody.

He wrestled with the frustration of believing that God had a purpose for him while desperately wanting that purpose to end.

That struggle is familiar far beyond a jail cell.

People wait for medical results.

They wait for reconciliation.

They wait for employment.

They wait for a child to come home.

They wait for an answer to a prayer they have repeated so often that the words themselves begin to feel worn down.

Waiting does not always produce clarity.

Sometimes it exposes how much we want control.

For Baba, surrender became less about confidently predicting when he would be released and more about how he would live while he did not know.

He continued reading Scripture.

He continued leading fellowship.

He continued reflecting on what he believed God wanted him to learn.

And eventually, his legal situation changed.

Freedom, but Not a Simple Ending

The final portion of Baba’s account was difficult to reconstruct in places because of interruptions and audio problems during our recorded conversation.

He described significant confusion surrounding his case, including disagreements about legal representation and events surrounding a court appearance.

He ultimately said he was not convicted and was released.

However, the interview did not provide complete court records, the precise legal disposition of the murder allegation or a sufficiently clear procedural timeline to independently establish how the matter was resolved.

That distinction is important.

Baba maintains that he did not know the murder victim and had no involvement in the killing.

His account deserves to be presented accurately as his account, without turning unverified allegations concerning the victim, investigators or other individuals into established findings.

What can be said from the conversation is that Baba emerged from detention with an understanding of his life that had changed considerably.

He described continuing to experience fear and uncertainty after his release.

He also began trying to write about what had happened.

Initially, he struggled to find the right approach.

He drafted several versions of the story.

Something did not feel right.

Then, he said, he began writing less about the external machinery of the criminal case and more about the internal transformation he had experienced.

The waiting.

The surrender.

The pride.

The lessons about faith and love.

The people he had met.

And the spiritual struggle between wanting control and accepting uncertainty.

That became the foundation of his book.

How God Arrested Me

The title of Baba’s book is deliberately provocative.

How God Arrested Me.

Police officers had physically taken him into custody.

But Baba believes God used that confinement to confront parts of his life he had not willingly surrendered.

The book, he explained, is not primarily intended to provide a detailed legal reconstruction of the murder investigation.

It is about what was happening inside him.

It is about the thoughts he wrestled with, the Scripture he studied, and the spiritual lessons he believes emerged from an experience he would never have chosen.

That is an important distinction.

He did not describe his detention as pleasant or just.

He did not suggest that wrongful incarceration should be celebrated because someone might discover a spiritual benefit.

Instead, he described finding purpose during circumstances he considered terrifying and undeserved.

As Christians, we should be careful not to confuse those ideas.

God can work through suffering without making the suffering itself righteous.

A person can grow spiritually during injustice without the injustice becoming acceptable.

And redemption does not require us to dismiss the harm that happened along the way.

Baba’s testimony is not proof that every painful circumstance will end with freedom or a satisfying resolution.

It is his account of how he encountered God while facing a future he could not control.

What Redemption Looks Like When the Accused Says He Was Innocent

Many of the guests on The Redemption Project have stories involving addiction, incarceration, violence or decisions that caused profound harm.

Their journeys often involve accepting responsibility for what they did.

Baba’s testimony is different.

He says he was innocent of the murder allegation.

So the central question is not whether he repented of that crime.

It is what happened to his faith, his assumptions and his understanding of other people while he was imprisoned.

That difference matters.

Redemption is not limited to people who have committed crimes.

Sometimes it is about a person whose confidence collapses under circumstances beyond his control.

Sometimes it is about learning that your social standing cannot guarantee security.

Sometimes it is about discovering compassion for people you previously would have judged.

And sometimes it is about finding a way to serve others when you are desperately waiting for someone to help you.

Baba entered detention wanting answers.

He left believing he had received something he had not expected.

Not simply freedom, but a different understanding of surrender.

The God Who Meets Us in Unwanted Places

I have spent much of my professional life around the criminal justice system.

I know that incarceration is not romantic.

Cells are not abstractions.

Accusations have consequences.

And decisions made by investigators, prosecutors, judges and attorneys can alter lives permanently.

That is one reason I believe stories like Baba’s require both compassion and care.

We can listen to his testimony without pretending to know every fact of the criminal investigation.

We can take his spiritual experience seriously without claiming independent knowledge of divine intervention.

We can also recognize something deeply human in his account.

He was afraid.

He wanted his family.

He wanted answers.

He wanted to go home.

But while he waited, he began seeing the people around him differently.

He began reading Scripture with greater attention.

He began participating in a fellowship he never imagined joining.

He was asked to lead when he did not believe himself ready.

And he came away convinced that faith was not simply something he possessed.

It was something he needed to live.

That is the distinction I keep returning to.

There is a difference between knowing the language of faith and depending upon it when everything familiar has been stripped away.

Baba says his experience forced him to confront that difference.

His story does not suggest that every question has been answered or every injustice resolved.

It suggests something more modest, and perhaps more meaningful.

Even in places we never wanted to enter, our lives are not necessarily without purpose.

For Baba, the authorities made an arrest.

He believes God used the experience to reach his heart.

And when he finally returned home, the story he most wanted to tell was not simply how he got out.

It was what changed before he did.

Listen to the Full Conversation

This article is adapted from The Redemption Project Podcast, Season 2, Episode 29, featuring Baba, author of How God Arrested Me.

In the episode, we discuss his arrest in Lagos, his detention experience, the Christian fellowship he joined, the role of Scripture and prayer, his eventual release and how he came to write his book.

Book: How God Arrested Me — the guest stated during the interview that the book was available on Amazon.

The Redemption Project explores redemption, accountability, faith and the people whose stories remind us that life’s most difficult chapters do not always have the final word.

I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets.

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Sources

1. The Redemption Project Podcast, Season 2, Episode 29 — interview transcript provided for this article.

2. How God Arrested Me — book discussed by the guest during the interview; publication details and product link require confirmation.

By Brandon Burley · Friday Book Review

Nathan Walton begins with an observation that is difficult to dismiss.

A church can be racially diverse for ninety minutes on Sunday and function almost entirely within segregated social worlds for the rest of the week.

People can sing together without sharing life. They can talk about reconciliation without knowing one another. They can advocate publicly for people whose homes, tables, neighborhoods and ordinary relationships remain entirely outside their own.

Embodying God’s Multiethnic Kingdom is Walton’s attempt to move the Christian conversation about race from institutional appearance to daily discipleship.

That is a worthy project. It is also one that requires careful theological distinctions.

Beyond diverse photographs

Walton is not satisfied with demographic diversity. That is one of the book’s strengths.

He explicitly argues that numerical diversity can conceal assimilation, shallow relationships or unchanged structures of power. A church cannot simply count faces, publish a photograph and declare reconciliation accomplished.

Instead, Walton asks Christians to examine four ordinary areas of life:

Residence.
Recreation.
Resources.
Religion.

Where do we live? With whom do we spend our discretionary time? Where do our money, opportunities and relationships flow? How does Christian faith shape our willingness to cross ethnic and cultural boundaries?

His central argument is simple: if Christians claim that ethnic reconciliation matters but that conviction never affects the ordinary architecture of life, something is missing.

There is truth here. Biblical love is not merely an attitude.

Hospitality requires a table. Generosity requires resources. Fellowship requires proximity.

The church’s confession that believers are one in Christ should eventually become visible somewhere in Christian life.

Sin does not stop at the individual

Walton is also correct to resist an understanding of sin so individualistic that institutions somehow become morally neutral.

Calvinists should have little difficulty admitting this.

Total depravity does not mean every individual is as wicked as possible. It means the fall reaches every dimension of human life.

Sinners build institutions. Sinners write laws. Sinners design markets. Sinners govern churches.

Sinners inherit arrangements they did not create and can continue arrangements without consciously intending every consequence those systems produce.

There is therefore nothing especially un-Reformed about asking whether patterns of injustice can become embedded in institutions.

The doctrine of sin is large enough to account for personal and structural evil.

Walton’s historical chapters are strongest when they force Christians to acknowledge that churches exist within actual histories rather than theological abstractions.

Residential segregation, denominational division, cultural preference and church-growth strategies did not materialize from nowhere.

Christians should be willing to investigate those histories honestly. Truth does not threaten the gospel.

But guilt requires greater precision

This is also where one of my most significant reservations emerges.

Walton appeals to Adam, original sin and Romans 5 in support of a broader principle of collective responsibility for historical sin.

A Reformed reader should slow down here.

Federal headship in Adam is not simply an illustration of the idea that individuals inherit the guilt of any community to which they belong.

Adam occupies a unique covenantal position as the representative head of humanity. Likewise, Christ’s representation of his people is unique.

Romans 5 is explaining the theological relationship between Adam and Christ, condemnation and justification.

It cannot simply be transferred into a general rule that people bear moral guilt for sins committed by members of their racial or national ancestry.

Scripture certainly contains corporate confession. It recognizes consequences extending across generations.

People can inherit unjust institutions, material advantages, cultural habits and obligations to repair wrongs they themselves did not originate. A church may also have genuine institutional continuity with sins committed by that same church or denomination.

But consequence, responsibility and guilt are not identical categories.

That distinction needs greater protection than Walton gives it.

A Calvinistic doctrine of sin should make us more willing to confess actual sin, not less careful about identifying whose sin is being confessed.

The gospel must not become a social program

A second concern appears in Walton’s treatment of the kingdom and gospel.

He is right that conversion does not produce Christians with no earthly obligations. The gospel creates a people.

Christians must love their neighbors, reject partiality, welcome strangers, practice mercy, pursue justice and treat believers of every ethnicity as brothers and sisters.

Ephesians 2 makes ethnic reconciliation within Christ’s church impossible to dismiss.

Revelation gives us the final picture of redeemed people from every nation, tribe, people and language worshiping the Lamb.

But some passages in Embodying God’s Multiethnic Kingdom move too quickly from those truths to language about Christians building God’s tangible kingdom on earth.

From a confessionally Reformed perspective, the order must remain clear.

The gospel is first the announcement of what Christ has accomplished.

The eternal Son became flesh. He obeyed where Adam failed. He bore the wrath due to sinners. He died. He rose. Sinners are justified through faith in him.

Those united to Christ are then transformed and gathered into his church.

Social reconciliation is a fruit of that gospel. It should not quietly become the definition of the gospel.

The church has enormous social consequences precisely because the church has been given a distinctive spiritual mission: make disciples, preach the Word, administer the sacraments and teach Christ’s people to obey everything he commanded.

Christians then carry that obedience into neighborhoods, businesses, politics, friendships and institutions.

When that order is reversed, gospel ministry can gradually become indistinguishable from social reform.

Walton does not abandon personal conversion, but the distinction occasionally becomes less clear than it should be.

Unity is commanded. Demographic engineering is not.

Walton himself wisely says that diversity alone is not the goal. That qualification is important.

The universal church is unquestionably multiethnic.

A local congregation’s demographic composition, however, is affected by geography, language, population, history and providence.

A faithful church in a nearly homogeneous rural community does not become disobedient simply because its Sunday attendance fails to resemble Revelation 7 statistically.

The biblical command is not to manufacture a particular demographic ratio.

The command is to show no partiality, welcome those whom Christ welcomes, preach the gospel without ethnic distinction, pursue genuine fellowship and refuse to erect sinful barriers between believers.

That distinction protects Walton’s best point.

A church should examine whether its homogeneity is merely geographic—or whether people have actually constructed barriers that keep certain neighbors out.

Those are very different situations.

The Four Rs are useful wisdom

Walton’s Residence, Recreation, Resources and Religion framework is most helpful when treated as a diagnostic tool.

It asks concrete questions.

Who are my neighbors? Who enters my home? Whose experiences shape my thinking? Where does my money go? Who receives my social capital? Do my friendships ever require me to cross cultural boundaries?

Those are good questions. They can expose hypocrisy. But they are not new commandments.

Christians possess legitimate liberty concerning where they live, which music they prefer, which books they read, where their children attend school and how particular vocational or family responsibilities shape their lives.

A believer may prayerfully move into a diverse neighborhood. Another may be called to remain near aging parents in a homogeneous rural county. One is not therefore necessarily a more obedient disciple.

This is where Walton’s final proposal for a multiethnic rule or rhythm of life needs to remain firmly in the category of wisdom rather than law.

The moment a useful spiritual practice becomes a universal test of faithfulness, Christian liberty begins to disappear.

The Reformed tradition has good reason to be cautious there. God alone is Lord of the conscience.

Where Walton is most persuasive

Walton is strongest when he returns to the ordinary demands of Christian love.

Know people rather than categories. Listen before assuming. Practice hospitality. Share resources. Reject partiality.

Do not require cultural assimilation as the price of Christian fellowship. Do not confuse numerical diversity with unity. Be willing to surrender comfort and power for the good of a brother or sister. Tell the truth about history.

Those principles need no fashionable ideology to sustain them.

They arise naturally from Christian anthropology, the doctrine of sin, the communion of saints and the command to love our neighbor.

Most importantly, Christians from different ethnic backgrounds do not achieve unity by discovering that they were secretly similar all along.

Their unity already exists in someone outside themselves. Christ. That is the foundation that cannot move.

Reconciliation starts deeper than demographics

Embodying God’s Multiethnic Kingdom asks an important question of churches that speak easily about reconciliation:

Does the fellowship we proclaim actually shape the lives we live?

Christians should not be afraid of that question.

Walton offers history worth considering, practical habits worth testing and challenges that comfortable congregations should not dismiss simply because the subject has become politically charged.

But Christians should test his prescriptions by Scripture just as carefully as they test the assumptions he critiques.

The church needs racial reconciliation. It needs justice. It needs hospitality across cultural boundaries. It needs Christians willing to sacrifice comfort for their neighbors.

What it needs most, however, is not a new moral program capable of producing sufficiently diverse lives.

It needs the old gospel.

Because the deepest division in humanity is not finally solved by proximity, redistribution, representation or cultural competence.

It is solved when sinners who were alienated from God are reconciled to him through the blood of Christ—and then discover that the same Christ has made strangers into family.

That does not make ethnic reconciliation less important. It tells us where its power comes from.

Recommendation: Worth reading and discussing, particularly for churches wrestling seriously with racial division, assimilation and shallow forms of diversity. Reformed readers will find significant pastoral wisdom but should carefully distinguish biblical commands from prudential applications, inherited consequences from inherited guilt, and the social fruit of the gospel from the gospel itself.

Disclosure: IVP provided a digital review copy. The opinions in this review are my own.

The book: Embodying God’s Multiethnic Kingdom: Live Out the Diversity of Heaven Every Day by Nathan Walton. InterVarsity Press.

Buy from IVP or choose a retailer.

Advertisement · From Brandon Burley / Project Forge Books

Continue the conversation about justice. My book Exploring Criminal Justice: The Basics of Ethics and Theory offers another starting point for readers interested in ethics and the criminal justice system.

Explore the Kindle edition on Amazon

A promotion for my own book, separate from this independent review. Check the retailer for current pricing and availability.

Why choose federal office—and what problems would you try to solve there?

Joshua Ashburn joins Brandon Burley for an archived Civic Conversations interview about his independent campaign for Tennessee’s 1st Congressional District. He introduces himself as a Bristol resident, a parent, and a full-time worker, then explains why he decided to enter the race.

Questions behind a candidacy

Brandon asks about Ashburn’s background and why he chose this office. The discussion moves into health coverage and Medicaid, with Ashburn drawing on his own experiences as he explains what he would like to change.

Where the conversation becomes a debate

The interview also addresses foreign aid, immigration and benefits, redistricting, and voter identification. Brandon raises counterarguments and practical questions. Listeners can consider both the candidate’s answer and the challenge that follows, rather than treating a short excerpt as his entire position.

From Project Forge Books · Our own book

For readers interested in examining justice beyond slogans, Exploring Criminal Justice: The Basics of Ethics and Theory is available from Brandon Burley. This is an advertisement for our own book, separate from the guest’s campaign.

Listen with the recording context in mind

This is an archived interview, not an endorsement. Candidate descriptions, election references, event announcements, figures, and policy claims reflect the conversation at the time. Statements by a speaker are their own and have not all been independently verified. Consult official election sources for current ballot and voting information.

Which question would you ask every candidate, regardless of party?

Listen: what does the first day feel like?

In Rhonda Paulsen: Changing the Way Foster Care Begins, the Isaiah 117 House founder describes the hours between removal and placement—…

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By Brandon Burley · Friday Book Review

A surprising amount of modern church discussion begins with the wrong person.

Do I like the music? Did the sermon hold my attention? Did I feel something? Was the service relevant? Would I invite someone back?

Adriel Sanchez begins somewhere else.

What has God called his church to do when it gathers before him?

That que…

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Martha Stewart went to federal prison at the height of her fame. She came out wearing a handmade poncho from another inmate and went back to work. Her story is not about erasing a conviction. It is about what can still be built after one.

By Brandon L. Burley
The Redemption Project | Redemption Story of the Week

When Martha Stewart walked out of federal pr…

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Signing up can take seconds. Leaving can take menus, retention offers, chats, phone calls and persistence. Federal cases show why that difference matters: every customer who stops trying can mean another recurring charge.

By Brandon L. Burley
Systems Explained

Amazon once had an internal name for the online process customers used to cancel Prime.

Iliad.

The …

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A child can be leaving an unsafe home and still be losing everything familiar. That is the tension Rhonda Paulsen asks us to understand before we talk about foster care.

Rhonda joined me on The Redemption Project to explain how Isaiah 117 House grew from her family’s experience as foster parents—and why the hours between removal and placement deserve more attention.

Safety does not cancel grief

Before entering the foster-care world, Rhonda says she thought removal meant a child would be safe, clean, and back in school. Learning to see that day through a child’s eyes changed her understanding. Parents, siblings, pets, possessions, teachers, and home can all disappear from everyday life at once.

A child may then wait in an office while adults search for a placement. Rhonda is careful not to blame caseworkers. Her argument is that they need practical support, too. The child’s distress and the worker’s effort can both be real.

A home that says, “We’ve been waiting for you”

Isaiah 117 House focuses on that transition. Rhonda describes a welcoming home with meals, showers, new clothes, and space to play while a placement is arranged. The goal is to give children choices and attention at a moment when much of their control has disappeared.

She describes the message this way: a child’s needs are not a burden. Sometimes that means finding a favorite meal. Sometimes it means letting a child choose clothes or spend time outside. These are ordinary acts of care placed inside an extraordinary day.

The work also reaches the foster family. Instead of sending a child into a household scrambling for beds, clothing, and supplies, the organization tries to provide what that family needs for the transition. When possible, foster parents meet the child at the house, joining an activity before leaving together.

From The Redemption Project · Our own course

Good intentions still need careful thinking. Explore Evidence Before Conclusions, Brandon Burley’s online course, and bring a more deliberate approach to the claims and conclusions you encounter.

Explore Evidence Before Conclusions →

This is a promotion for our own product, separate from Isaiah 117 House.

Caring for the people who care

We also discuss the emotional weight carried by volunteers, employees, and caseworkers. Rhonda describes counseling support for employees and opportunities for volunteers to process difficult experiences. Compassion does not make someone immune to secondary trauma.

That matters because a reliable welcome depends on people who can keep showing up. Supporting the adults is part of supporting the children.

You do not have to do everything to do something

Rhonda does not suggest that everyone should become a foster parent. She does ask listeners to consider a concrete next step: learn about fostering, support a foster family, bring a meal, explore appropriate volunteer opportunities, or help an organization serving children.

For listeners who want to learn about Isaiah 117 House, the organization’s website lists locations and ways to get involved. Local needs and volunteer requirements should be confirmed directly with the relevant team.

Learn about Isaiah 117 House and find a location →

Listen to the full conversation above. Then consider one practical question: what could you do to make a difficult transition less lonely for a child or family near you?

Content note: Discussion of family separation, foster care, and childhood trauma. Recorded September 11, 2026. Organizational details reflect the conversation at the time of recording.

I am a retired detective and criminal justice / government educator based in Tennessee. I founded The Redemption Project, as a place to focus on civics, rebuild non-partisan trust, and provide educational and emotional grace while learning about the news. I also have a column in Knox TN Today. My reporting and commentary have also appeared in other outlets including; Governing, The Arizona Capitol Times, South Florida Sun Sentinel, Police1, among other state and regional outlets.

Subscribe now

This week’s TRP update begins with a question worth carrying into any conversation about recovery or justice: what would make the next step possible? A hopeful answer should be specific enough to do something with.

Start with a conversation

In From Addiction a…

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Tennessee – Tennessee now knows its major-party nominees.

Republican Marsha Blackburn and Democrat Jerri Green won their Aug. 6 primaries. Thirteen independent candidates also qualified for the Nov. 3 ballot, including Lauren Pinkston, whose campaign this series has examined alongside Blackburn and Gree…

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By Brandon Burley · Friday Book Review

The easiest way to misunderstand Leadership and the Liberal Arts is to expect a book about leadership techniques.

It is not really that.

There are no ten habits of effective executives, no management formula, and relatively little advice about how to run a meeting, motivate a team, or build an organization.

The deeper …

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Tennessee – Tennesseans will not see Marsha Blackburn’s U.S. Senate seat on the Nov. 3 ballot.

They may still help d…

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