Why I Write The Tolton Path
Walking a path of faith, truth and freedom in a world that quietly asks for your surrender
I did not set out to name this space after Augustus Tolton. Seven years ago, I learned of him while doing research for my first novel, The Marrying Man. As the first publicly recognized Black Catholic priest in the United States, I was drawn to his story. I didn’t yet understand why.
Like many things that matter, it revealed itself over time. He did not fit any labels I’ve been told applied to a Black man in the 19th century. I learned more about the plight of our fellow Black American citizens whose families have been here since the beginning of our country (or earlier). That’s when I realized what drew me to him—he had found something no person had granted him: freedom.
Born into slavery in 1854, he attended Catholic school in Illinois, laying the foundation for a deep, unshakable freedom rooted in truth: God. Even when rejected by seminaries in his own country and forced to travel across the world to pursue his calling, he returned not with resentment—but with determined faith. With it, he built, he served and he endured. Not because it was easy or popular. But because he lived in truth.
Tolton did not change the world through force. He changed it by refusing to abandon what he knew to be right, ignoring the mob, following God’s calling and recognizing truth—even when every human structure made it more difficult.
Venerable Augustus Tolton made the choice to walk this path, denying human nature’s call for revenge and choosing instead to serve. His path to sainthood continues.
We are born into a world with many paths set before us. The choice of Adam and Eve is our original sin. This is our tendency to gaze at the materials of this world and stray, perhaps just for a bit, not realizing that we are lost without truth.
We live in a time where systems—technological, cultural and institutional—steps in to guide us, promising to make life easier while quietly asking us to hand over our agency and compass. We may be more efficient. Our day may be more predictable. Our lives more comfortable. But these systems also shape how we think, how we decide, how we live and ultimately, what we believe.
This labyrinth of systems connects to us, bending us into its plans. Without us, it cannot function. From monetary gains to more dangerous ones—even acts of violence—we can become its cogs. With the third assassination attempt of the US President in two years, we are reminded of the power of this system.
The Tolton Path is a counter to that system. It is not loud. It is not performative. It is not political. And it rarely follows the direction of the crowd. Rather, it provides crumbs of truth to the way back. I may not have the reach to change the world, but perhaps I can help one other person.
Walking as Tolton did does not mean rejecting the world around us. It means engaging with it thoughtfully. Lovingly. With truth as our guide. Asking what is being gained within us—and what may be lost.
While systems and technology prescribe our image, they should never define us—nor should the ever expanding labels assigned to us. They do not live out our lives. Our lives are made up of choices—daily, quietly—that shape who we become. Unplug from the system and plug into God. Be present for your decisions.
That is the path.
On it, we are not perfect. Walking it, is not easy. But in it, is the truth.
This space is my attempt—through words and stories—to be a candle in the systemic darkness that isolates. An attempt to help myself and others live in truth instead of deceit. Even when it is uncomfortable. To hold onto faith, even when it is inconvenient.
We are all on a journey. What path did we choose? What path will we choose?
I suggest that of Venerable Augustus Tolton—a path to sainthood—that leads to what no system can provide:
Truth.
Faith.
Freedom.
Peace.
P.S. The New Earth series will continue soon. Catch up here.