Welcome

To live by faith like a child is, I believe, one of the most beautiful ways to experience the world. That simple idea lies at the heart of Sacred and Wild.

My name is Carter Reese, and I have spent much of my life discovering that God's presence is often found in places we might otherwise overlook. Not only in mountaintops or breathtaking landscapes, but in front porches, family dinners, quiet prayers, and the golden light that spills across an ordinary afternoon. When our hearts are attentive to the Holy Spirit, we begin to realize that the ordinary has always been extraordinary. Creation is continually declaring the goodness of its Creator, and life itself is a miracle.

I grew up in Old Hickory, Tennessee, just outside of Nashville. During the summers of my childhood, I carried my fishing pole to the banks of Old Hickory Lake and spent hours casting from docks while the evening sun settled over the water. I watched the last boats of the day send gentle waves against the shoreline, listening as they lapped against the rocks at my feet. At the time, I wasn't thinking about worship. I was simply enjoying the world around me—noticing the beautiful blue stripes on a bluegill and the golden belly of a sunfish.

Now, years later, moments like those make my soul sing praises.

I see that those quiet evenings were gifts from the Lord all along—small invitations to know Him more deeply. The golden sky, the movement of the water, the warmth of the summer air—all of it quietly proclaimed His glory before I ever had words for it.

As the years have passed, I have found that some of my richest moments with God have come through silence and the quieting of my mind. I don't often find myself hiking through towering mountain ranges or wandering untouched wilderness. Instead, I treasure the places He has given me today. The morning light through the trees, birds singing above my roof, a walk beneath open skies, or a few quiet minutes on my front porch have become sacred spaces where my soul remembers to slow down and listen.

One place that has remained with me is the backcountry of Nicaragua. While serving as a missionary, I spent time in the mountains around Las Mesas, camping beneath open skies, sharing meals with local families, and playing baseball on dusty fields where livestock wandered through the outfield. It was simple, rugged, and beautiful. There I learned that beauty is not found in perfection but in the presence of God among us.

Today, my greatest wonder is found at home.

My wife, Carly, and I are raising our three daughters—Ruth, Hazel, and Faith—and every day they remind me what childlike faith looks like. They laugh without reservation, make me laugh until I can't help but join them, notice tiny flowers, dance in the living room, and delight in simply being. They have taught me to slow down, to pay attention, and to receive each day as a gift.

Some evenings, after the house grows quiet, I sit on our front porch, often by candlelight, and pray. Those moments remind me that we were never meant to hurry through life. We need stillness. We need silence. We need communion with our Creator.

One verse has become an anchor for my heart: "His steadfast love endures forever." I have found it to be all that I need. His love is enough. His presence is more than enough; my cup overflows. The invitation has always been the same: "Be still, and know that I am God." When I truly take notice, something wonderful happens within me.

I have come to know that the gospel is beautifully simple and endlessly profound. No matter how long we follow Jesus, we are only beginning to discover the riches of His grace. I have found the treasure hidden in the field, and I only wish more people knew what they were missing.

My prayer is that Sacred and Wild would become more than a journal. I hope it becomes a quiet place of rest—a place where stories, poems, prayers, artwork, and reflections awaken wonder, cultivate childlike faith, and gently remind us that God is nearer than we often realize. I pray these pages bear witness to His beauty and help others rediscover the wonder they knew as children.

May these pages help you slow down.

May they help you notice.

May they help you worship.

And may you discover, again and again, that the sacred is often found in the wild, ordinary places where the Holy Spirit teaches our hearts to rest in His presence.