Austin Williams

Steel-toed, barb-tongued, Spirit-filled servant, trying to heal a city that likes being sick.

I thought Jesus Christ was a curse-word until I was four years old.

The incident where I learned what "Jesus Christ" meant is actually quite telling. I was in San Antonio, Texas in the area near the Riverwalk. My parents and I were heading back to the car after a day that had included a stop by the San Antonio Zoo and a trek through donwtown. I carelessly walked along with my parents - no, wait; I was very energetic, I was probably jumping along with them. Anyway, as we were leaving, I passed by a store that I now suppose was a Catholic bookstore. I saw in the window a white porcelain cross, and the image of a man hanging off of it. His face was bowed with sorrow, his hands and feet were nailed to the cross, he was stripped of all his clothes. Something grabbed me from that storefront window. Perhaps the solemn presentation of such a visceral subject tantalised my already violence-drawn eyes. It may have even been the cartoonish nature of the violent portrayal. Certainly the idea of nailing someone to two crossbeams as a form of torture had not entered my imagination beforehand, but being a product of my generation, I would have most undoubtedly enjoyed seeing this in Tom & Jerry, or perhaps He-Man or M.A.S.K.. Yet, maybe because this was not brought to my attention through a familiar medium, I found myself enthralled by the image.

I asked my mom, "What is that?" (Note - I didn't say "who", I said "what".)

"That's Jesus Christ," she explained.

"What!?" I blurted out in childish astonishment. "You mean the cussword?"

You see, in my house, if Mom or Dad said "Jesus Christ", it meant something bad had happened. When I repeated their unconscious blasphemies, I was treated to a swat across the face and a stern warning. But here my Mom was, saying it out in public, and not only that but associating it with a direct image that did not seem foul or inappropriate in the least. I was shocked. So that's Jesus Christ? I thought. That looks like it hurt.

I was not raised in a Christian household. I was not brought up to be a defender of old-world superstitions, pseudo-scientific realities, or mystical practises. Despite my parents best efforts, I became a believer in Jesus Christ - and I think I was the only kid in the Bible Belt who was punished by not being allowed to go to church.

I've come through a lot of things to be where I am today. I've done time as a metalhead, a hardcore kid, a punk, and a skinhead (non racist skin, by the way. Yes, they do exist. No, skinhead did not start out as a racialist movement. No, the 20/20 episode you saw is still wrong.) I've aspired to be a paleontologist, software developer, actor, director, pastor, and musician. I've lived in cozy suburbs, I've lived in the ghetto. I've been to all types of churches, fought many battles within and without, but have always found myself coming back to that one thing: Christ crucified.

As you see above, I once headed a group called Underground Church, NYC. It isn't around anymore, and here is not the place to delve into the whys behind that. I do live in New York City still. I am married to a wonderful woman named Brit. I am about to graduate with a B.A. in Biblical studies, and am on my way - God willing - to becoming a professor. I write a lot, and I think a lot, and that basically sums up my existence right now.

I'm Austin Williams. This is my website. I hope you enjoy.