In full disclosure I am an interested party. As a partner at Beyond Capital, an investment firm in Dallas, Texas, and we have backed Longbow. Over this past year I have got to know its founders, Daniel Davey and Mark Tapscott, and I am now helping the company think about its future in America. So I am not a neutral observer. The reason this car has stayed with me has less to do with business than it does with some of my Ragamuffin thoughts I have been noodling.

Modern vehicles have become heavy in a way my grandparents would find absurd. Bigger bodies, bigger batteries, more screens, more motors, more of everything: plenty of electric cars now weigh well over two tonnes. Longbow's founders came out of Tesla and Lucid and asked the opposite question…not what a car could gain, but what it could lose. The Speedster weighs 895 kg; the Roadster, 995 kg. Both come in under a tonne. “Weight is the enemy of everything,” Tapscott says. “It hurts efficiency, agility, braking, fun, and even sustainability.” It is an old British idea, really. Colin Chapman, the founder of Lotus, built a legend on it: “Simplify, then add lightness.” Shelby shocked the racing world with Ford.

Hebrews writes of the Christian life as a race: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith” (Heb. 12:1–2, NRSV). Notice the distinction there is the sin that clings and then there is…the weight. I have never really noticed that before. Not everything that slows a runner is wicked. Some of it is simply heavy: possessions we maintain more than we use, commitments we took on in a different season, calendars with no margin, churches running programs nobody would choose again but nobody dares to stop. Our consumer culture trains us to solve every problem by addition. Scripture, and a small car company in Warwickshire, suggest the opposite discipline: subtraction.

I write this as a man who knows something about carrying weight he was never meant to carry, and about the long, unglamorous work of setting it down. Lightness, in my experience, is never an accident. Nobody drifts into it. It is chosen, repeatedly, against the pull of more.

There is a second lesson in how Longbow works. The first people were put in a garden “to till it and keep it” (Gen. 2:15, NRSV) to cultivate, and to guard. Stewardship is exactly that pairing: make something fruitful, and refuse to waste what you have been given. By the company's account, Longbow took its car from renderings to a driving prototype in under six months, for less than £10 million, a small fraction of what the big manufacturers typically spend over years, building in Britain with a largely British supply chain and creating skilled jobs in the West Midlands. A lighter car uses fewer materials and less energy every mile it travels. Doing more with less is not cheapness. Done well, it is craftsmanship; and craftsmanship is a spiritual category. “Whatever your task, put yourselves into it, as done for the Lord and not for your masters” (Col. 3:23, NRSV). Work done as for the Lord may show in the details, in what is made, and in what is deliberately left off.

A word of honesty, though, because Christians should be the first to insist on it. A sports car costing the best part of £65,000 will not save the world, and we should be wary, I include myself in this of baptizing the things we happen to make, sell or own. Longbow cars are beautiful, unnecessary things, and there is a place in a good creation for beautiful, unnecessary things; the Lord who made peacocks and sunsets is not a bare utilitarian. But the gospel is not a marketing strategy, and I am not asking you to buy a car. The claim I am making is smaller and, I hope, sturdier: that the manner of our work and the weight of our lives are spiritual questions, and that a culture of endless more….more weight, more speed, more stuff is quietly at odds with a faith that speaks of enough.

So here is the question Longbow's car has left me with, and I offer it to readers of en for what it is worth. What is the weight you are carrying that is not sin, exactly, but is slowing the race? For a church, it might be a building, a budget or a calendar that now serves itself. For a family, it might be a standard of living that costs the very people it was meant to bless. For a business, it might be growth pursued because growth is what businesses do. The writer to the Hebrews does not tell us to run faster. He tells us to run lighter…eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. Less, held faithfully, can be more. It usually is.

About the author: W. Scott Wilson is a General Partner at Beyond Capital and Senior Vice President of Strategy & Growth at ChurchillTerry, in Dallas, Texas. He writes Ragamuffin Musings, on faith, sobriety and impact investing, at wscottwilson.com. He is a husband and father, and, by grace, a ragamuffin.

I landed in New York just before 1:00 AM today. That wasn’t the plan that is what the weather dictated.

Less than twenty-four hours later….back on a plane headed home.

Just enough time to soak in some of the energy of a city that never seems to sleep.

The airports were packed. The streets were buzzing. The World Cup excitement was everywhere. People from every corner of the globe gathering around a shared passion for sport, competition, and community. There is something special about New York during moments like this….it truly feels like the center of the world.

As Alicia Keys said:

“Concrete jungle where dreams are made of There’s nothing you can’t do Now you’re in New York…”

There is no denying the magic. The ambition. The history. The feeling that anything is possible.

But as much as I appreciate New York, there is still no place like home.

And in today’s world, opportunity is no longer concentrated in a single city. The world’s capital of innovation, investment, entrepreneurship, and talent isn’t captive to New York or to any one place.

Social media has showed us the best parts of being human during the 2026 World Cup….

the Tartan Army taking over Boston and MLB ballparks in Boston and Florida

the Orange Legion and their famous “De beroemde Oranjebus" making its way across Texas from Houston to Dallas and showcasing Buc-ee’s,

the community of Lawrence Kansas embracing the Algerian football team, or

the Vikings teaching the world the thrill of the Vikings Row and seeing TIme Sqaure packed and rowing in unison

And it goes on..but just as cultures from all over the world have cheerfully and wonderfully taken America by storm…..it demonstrates that location is not limited by geographic location in today’s world.

And to that end Dallas is writing its own story.

Companies are relocating. Capital is flowing. Entrepreneurs are building. Families are putting down roots. Leaders are choosing a city that combines opportunity, affordability, faith, community, and a vision for the future.

New York will always be iconic.

But Dallas isn’t trying to be New York.

Dallas is carving out its own piece of the pie and doing it in a uniquely Texas way.

After a whirlwind 24 hours, it was good to experience the energy of New York.

It was even better coming home.

#NewYork #Dallas #WorldCup #Leadership #Entrepreneurship #PrivateEquity #VentureCapital #HomeSweetHome

Standing beneath the stained glass windows of the Duomo in Florence, I was struck by a simple truth.

Each masterpiece is made from hundreds of individual pieces of glass. On their own, the fragments seem insignificant. Some are jagged. Some are dark. Some appear flawed. Yet when they are assembled by the hands of a master craftsman and illuminated by light, they tell a story far greater than the sum of their parts.

It made me think about our own lives.

Most of us spend years trying to hide the broken pieces.

The failures.
The disappointments.
The betrayals.
The grief.
The addictions.
The doubts.
The seasons when life did not unfold according to plan.

We often view these experiences as interruptions to our purpose when, in reality, they are often the very path to discovering it. I’ve come to believe that purpose is rarely found in our strengths alone. More often, purpose emerges from our wounds.

The entrepreneur who struggles through failure learns resilience and wisdom that no textbook can teach.

The partner who fights through hardship discovers a deeper capacity for love and grace.

The person who walks through loss gains empathy that becomes a gift to others.

The recovering alcoholic learns that vulnerability can become a source of strength rather than shame.

Our pain is not always the obstacle, it is the invitation.

This truth is reflected throughout Scripture. Moses carried the burden of self-doubt. David endured failure and brokenness. Peter experienced public failure. Paul lived with a thorn he never fully escaped. Thomas was full of doubt. The woman at the well full of shame.

Yet God consistently used the places of struggle to reveal purpose.

Not despite the pain, instead through the pain to transformation to purpose.

The same principle applies in business.

The leaders who create meaningful cultures are rarely those who have experienced uninterrupted success. They are the ones who have navigated setbacks, disappointments, and moments when they questioned themselves. Their scars become wisdom. Their struggles become perspective. Their failures become leadership lessons.

The same principle applies in relationships.

The strongest relationships are not those that avoid conflict. They are the ones that learn how to move through conflict with honesty, humility, forgiveness, and grace.

And perhaps nowhere is this message more important today than in how we define strength.

For years, many of us were taught that being strong meant being silent.

Don’t complain.
Don’t show weakness.
Don’t ask for help.
Carry the burden alone.

But strength and silence are not the same thing, and thanks to Solomon Thomas I was reminded of that a couple of weeks ago, at an unexpected moment of time when I needed to hear it and be reminded of it….again.

The Defensive Line (www.thedefensiveline.org) has helped bring this message to the forefront through a simple but powerful truth: Strong does not equal silent.

Real strength is

• found in authenticity

• admitting when you’re struggling

• reaching out before the darkness becomes overwhelming

• allowing others to walk alongside you

Silence isolates.

Connection heals.

The stained glass of the Duomo reminds us that light shines through broken places.

The message of faith reminds us that God often works through our struggles rather than around them.

The message of healthy relationships reminds us that vulnerability creates intimacy.

The message of great leadership reminds us that transparency builds trust.

And the message of The Defensive Line reminds us that strength is not the absence of struggle,,,,,it is the courage to speak honestly about it.

Your scars are not evidence that you are disqualified.

They may be evidence of where your purpose is waiting to be found.

Like stained glass, the broken pieces of your story may be exactly what allows the light to shine through, for someone who is looking for hope….and just maybe you are their stained glass window.

We are living through one of the most significant technological revolutions in human history. Artificial Intelligence is changing how we work, learn, communicate, and make decisions. AI can analyze millions of data points in seconds, draft business strategies, predict outcomes, and automate tasks that once required teams of people.

Yet the more time I spend around AI, the more convinced I become that the most important things in life remain stubbornly and beautifully……human.

This world thought was reinforced today through three seemingly unrelated moments.

The first was at a college baseball recruiting event.

Dozens of young athletes stood on a field under a summer sky, surrounded by coaches, scouts, parents, and trainers. Every player hoping to be noticed. Every coach was evaluating talent. Metrics…..well they were everywhere…..exit velocity, pitching speed, launch angle, sprint times, ball rotations. Technology can measure almost everything about a player’s performance today.

But standing there, what struck me wasn’t the dat…..it was the conversations.

A coach pulling aside a player to offer encouragement. A father watching from a distance with quiet pride. Nervous moms watching their boys on a field of dreams.

Potential future teammates, or competitors, laughing together between drills.

Relationships being built alongside resumes.

Trust being formed long before scholarship offers would ever be made.

The future of those young men’s careers may involve analytics, AI-powered scouting reports, and performance algorithms. Yet their opportunities will ultimately emerge through human connection…..someone believing in them, mentoring them, advocating for them, and investing in their future.

AI can identify talent.

People develop it.

Later in the day, I noticed something much smaller.

A baby bunny sat quietly in the grass.

No bigger than the palm of my hand….days old, it appeared almost frozen, relying on instinct and stillness for protection. It would have been easy to walk right past it without noticing…..I watched as over a dozen folks did just that….three I had to stop from stepping on him (or her).

In a world filled with screens, notifications, and endless streams of information, moments like this have become surprisingly rare. We are constantly being directed toward what is urgent rather than what is meaningful.

AI excels at helping us find answers.

But it cannot teach us…..wonder.

Wonder happens when we pause long enough to notice something we weren’t looking for.

A sunset.

A child’s laugh.

A song that transports us back twenty years.

Or a tiny rabbit hidden in the grass.

Technology can help us process the world. It cannot replace our experience of it.

Then I found the nest….two feet away.

Tucked carefully into the ground was a small den lined with fur and grass. Inside were at least three more baby rabbits, nestled together in complete dependence upon something larger than themselves.

The scene was simple.

Yet it felt profound.

No algorithm designed that nest.

No machine instructed the mother rabbit how to care for her young.

No data model orchestrated the delicate balance of life unfolding beneath the grass.

There was an order there.

A design.

A beauty.

Something deeper than code…..or AI.

As business leaders, we often talk about AI in terms of productivity, efficiency, and competitive advantage. Those things matter. Companies that ignore innovation will eventually find themselves at a disadvantage….just ask Blockbuster.

But perhaps the greater question is not what AI can do.

Perhaps the greater question is what AI should never, and cannot, replace.

It should never replace mentorship.

It should never replace friendship.

It should never replace faith.

It should never replace the conversations between a coach and an athlete, a father and a son, a mother and a daughter, a husband and a wife, or a grandparent and a grandchild.

It should never replace our ability to notice the small miracles surrounding us every day.

The irony of AI…..as machines become more capable, the uniquely human qualities become more valuable.

Empathy.

Character.

Wisdom.

Curiosity.

Love.

Forgiveness.

These are not bugs waiting to be optimized…..instead they are the very things that make us human.

The future will undoubtedly contain more AI than we can currently imagine.

But standing at a baseball field, watching relationships form.

Kneeling in the grass beside a tiny rabbit.

Looking into a nest filled with new life.

I was reminded that technology, no matter how powerful, remains a tool.

The real story has always been about people.

About connection.

About purpose.

And about the quiet reminders all around us that there is something greater at work than the technology we create.

AI may help us understand the world.

But relationships, and the small wonders that surround us, help us understand why the world matters in the first place.

Wonder is solely human. Wonder drives innovation.

Wonder.

“Where the sacred rivers meet
Beneath the shadow of the Keeper of the plains
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name” - Rich Mullins, Calling Out Your Name

Ella is not forgotten. Her life continues to speak through the work her family is doing — helping young people, families, coaches, teachers, and communities understand that mental health is not something to hide from. It is something to protect, strengthen, and prioritize.

We talk about physical health.
We talk about financial health.
We talk about professional performance.

But mental health is just as real, without it none of the other is sustainable.

And when we do not care for it, the consequences can be devastating. Suicide is one of the leading causes of death for young people in America. In 2023, more than 6,400 young people ages 10–24 died by suicide…..roughly 120+ lives every week. That is about three-quarters of a commercial airplane full of young lives lost every single week. If planes were falling from the sky at that rate, we would stop everything and respond.

We need to respond here, too.

This photo is a small snapshot of some of the things on my desk that help me stay grounded:

Coffee — a reminder to slow down, be still, pray, meditate, and create quiet space with God.

A gratitude stone — something I can hold in my hand when life feels heavy, reminding me that in almost any circumstance, there is still something to be grateful for.

Stress putty — a simple tool to redirect anxious energy and refocus when the noise gets loud.

20-minute candle — to unplug, pray, think & renew is wonderful, possible, and important.

A yellow sunflower — a reminder of Ella, of the Thomas family, and of the beautiful, courageous work they are doing. It reminds me to pray for them, to honor Ella’s memory, and to support those who are making a difference in spaces where the work is deeply personal.

Bowie — the image from my business card and the artwork that hangs in my office. Music is oxygen for me. And in the noise of life, Bowie reminds me that sometimes strength looks like being still.

We need to redefine strength.

Strength is not pretending everything is fine.
Strength is not curating a highlight reel while quietly falling apart.
Strength is telling the truth.
Strength is asking for help.
Strength is caring for your soul, your mind, your body, and your spirit.
Strength is walking through the lows, not around them.

Strength is also learning to sit in the discomfort of someone close to you of their journey and being a safe place for them to be vulnerable to listen.

Life is not lived only in the highs. Life is lived in the full journey — the joy, the grief, the uncertainty, the laughter, the valleys, the healing, and the grace that meets us along the way.

And there is beauty in all of it.

I am grateful for the Thomas family, for The Defensive Line, and for the way they are championing life, hope, prevention, and honest conversations around mental health.

May we all do our part to make mental health a priority — for ourselves, for our families, for our teams, and for the young people watching us.

Ella will never be forgotten.

Appreciate your consideration in partnering with a great family and organization that is changing lives daily…..saving lives, supporting families impacted by suicide, and reminding people there is beauty in living…all parts of life.

The Defensive Line - Donate

#MentalHealth #SuicidePrevention #TheDefensiveLine #Faith #Gratitude #Leadership #ServantLeadership #CelebrateLif

e

Learned from a mentor a long time ago…it is always three things. So I will start there.

1. The Bowie image.

It hangs in my office at home and around it are four natural wood vinyl album holders each holding about 20 albums. The view from my desk changes as the albums in each change. It is also on my business card.

If you look close it is the image of Bowie overlayed on a dictionary page. The image resonates today……with so much noise in world with world events, social media, toxic politics in the US, rapid pace of AI, on and on…..to remind me to be still. Be quiet. Meditate.

1. The name, Ragamuffin.

Comes from a favorite writer, Brennan Manning, who wrote “The Ragamuffin Gospel: Good News the Bedraggled, Beat-Up, and Burnt Out”. That was me over a decade ago lost in my anxiety, fears and a bottomless bottle of Jack Daniels. Today I am happy, joyous and free. That doesn’t imply that life is always great and easy….far from it. Life is messy, but….I can now face it on its terms and and be at peace. I can find joy in the ups and downs of life and know that there is someone who is walking along side of me.

1. My musings.

What are they…..just that my musings.

Sometimes they are about my faith journey. Sometimes they are about my sobriety journey. Sometimes they are about my life journey. Sometimes they are about my passion for impact investing and venture capital. There is a world in which one can See both VC type of returns in financial outcomes (Return on Investment) and can also see the good from innovative disruptors on the world around us (Return on Impact).

So…..I will periodically check in with my musings. For now….if you have been still for a while….try it out.

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