Billy Thomas on Faith, Fireballs, and Family: A Spontaneous Conversation

I recently decided to record a completely unplanned podcast episode by calling up whoever in my contact list would pick up first. By some miracle, my older brother Billy answered—and was actually up for it. Billy describes himself as “the oldest and best of the three brothers,” though he’s also set countless examples of how not to handle power tools, open flames, and bows and arrows. In this spontaneous chat, we dug deep into his knack for blowing up garages, his journey into discovering faith, and how he’s managed to climb the corporate ladder (without a bachelor’s degree) in record time. It was a far cry from a formal interview, but sometimes, improvisation brings out the most revealing stories. (Only occasionally do you risk getting shot in the face by a homemade arrow.)

Faith Without Defensiveness

One of the biggest revelations I walked away with is Billy’s refreshing take on faith. According to him, he doesn’t need to “defend God” because, quite frankly, God’s big enough to handle Himself. For Billy, this perspective replaces the typical defensiveness or judgment you might expect from someone who’s dedicated to church leadership. Where others try to strong-arm nonbelievers into certain viewpoints, Billy just shrugs. Why hold someone accountable to a commitment they never made in the first place? By accepting his own flaws—“I’m jacked up,” as he puts it—he’s able to focus more on his personal relationship with God instead of policing everyone else’s morality. (Yes, it’s basically the spiritual version of “live and let live,” but with fewer tie-dye shirts and more Scripture.)

The (Alleged) Arrow and the Fireball

I can’t talk about Billy without mentioning two of his more infamous claims to near-Darwin-award fame. First, the arrow: rumor has it (or so I say) that he shot me in the face when I was a kid. Billy insists our neighbor let the arrow loose, but I’m sticking to my story—and my cheek scar—for life. Second, the garage explosion: he once managed to create a fireball while fiddling with the starter switch on a Waverunner in his garage. The result? Singed eyebrows, a brief living arrangement in a hotel, and a permanent story to scare small children into never letting him handle flammable objects. Sure, some siblings bond over shared hobbies; ours might just bond over shared hospital visits.

Rapid Rise at Work

When Billy isn’t narrowly avoiding a Darwin Award, he works as a project manager in a Fortune 500 logistics company. You’d never guess he doesn’t have a bachelor’s degree, particularly given his frequent promotions—he’s never gone more than 18 months without one. Billy sees obstacles as challenges, not deterrents, and he applies a “cat wrangler” approach to rallying teams and solving problems. There’s no magic formula, no fancy academic credentials, just an eagerness to learn, a willingness to apply for the next role, and a faith that says anyone can rise if they’re open to new opportunities. (If only we could apply the same unstoppable spirit to his short game in golf.)

Baseball, Blown Hammies, and the Call of Jiu-Jitsu

Long before becoming a logistics guru, Billy practically lived, breathed, and ate baseball. He even had his pop-to-pop time clock dangerously close to that of Pudge Rodriguez. Ultimately, though, faith rerouted Billy from pursuing the pro leagues. Now, his competitive streak mostly shows up in church league softball—where he has a habit of pulling both hamstrings in the same game—and likely in golf next. But we’re also talking jiu-jitsu these days, since Billy’s son recently joined a gym. I’ve been nudging him to try it too. Let’s just say if he can survive a flaming Waverunner, he can survive rolling on the mats. Though I’ve warned him that at our age, “Just do it” might come with a side of “Just stretch first.”

Living the Message Instead of Preaching It 

What struck me most in our conversation is how Billy embodies what he believes, rather than rattling off sermons at every turn. He credits this to remembering that he's no better than anyone else, and that Christianity is pointless if it's all about condemnation. He accepts that other people have their own moral codes and personal journeys. This means fewer soapbox moments and more authentic connections—like building genuine relationships with foster kids during his time as a youth pastor in Texas. He's found that an honest, quietly strong example can resonate better than any loud moral lectures.

Conclusion: Faith, Family, and a Little Chaos

Walking away from this off-the-cuff interview, I realized Billy's life is an odd balance of comedic disasters, unwavering faith, and surprising successes. He might be the only person I know who has effectively leveraged a "blow up the garage" fiasco into poignant lessons about gratitude and God. He's also living proof that you can rocket up the corporate ranks without a shiny four-year degree—provided you're stubborn enough (and have a decent prayer life). More importantly, Billy reminds me that faith needn't be pushy to be powerful, and that sincerity goes a lot further than self-righteousness. Even if we'll never agree on who shot that arrow.

So, if you're considering your own adventure—be it a new job, a new faith outlook, or the questionable act of rewiring a Waverunner—Billy's story might just remind you to show up, stay humble, and trust something bigger than yourself. Preferably while keeping your eyebrows intact and arrow-related accidents to a minimum.