Yesterday, my neighbor Andrea stopped me as I was walking toward my front door. “Gosh it’s good to see you; I’ve been worried about you guys.”

Somehow Jessica and I had failed to tell her that we would be in the Dominican Republic for the week. Andrea continued to talk.

“It’s been a hard week here,” she said, referring to the flood damage in Nashville. She shook her head. “One of my friends is missing. Well, he’s not exactly a friend; I know him because he takes spin class with me over at the gym.”

Andrea pointed at the gym adjacent to our condo development where she and I work out.

“It’s so sad, Matthew. He’s a thirty-nine-year-old guy who is just the sweetest thing in the world. I feel so bad for his family.”

“That’s awful, Andrea. What’s his name?”

“Danny. Danny Tomlinson.”

“WHAT? Danny is missing?! The guy with the Jesus tattoo on his back? He’s missing?” Knowing what her answer was going to be, I dropped the two bags of groceries onto the sidewalk and started wiping tears out of my eyes.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“Oh, God, I had no idea.”

“I didn’t realize that you knew him. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s a pretty good friend,” I said.

Everybody at the gym knows Danny. Even if you aren’t his friend, you can’t help but know and love the guy with “Jesus tattooed on his back.” That’s how a lot of people refer to him, the “Jesus tattoo” guy. People constantly ask Danny to lift up his shirt so they can see his ink. The above picture doesn’t do “Jesus” justice. The tat’s detail is quite remarkable.

Over the last eight years, Danny and I have talked a lot. One of our first conversations was about his tattoo. And interestingly enough, the last conversation we had, four days before I left for the DR, was about his tattoo. A week or so prior to us talking, Danny had competed in an ultimate fighting match. He lost the fight, and in some ways he lost on purpose. A few minutes into the first round, Danny had his 25-year-old competitor in a hold, a hold that he thinks could have secured the win.

“I could have broken the boy’s arm, but I didn’t want to win that bad. I didn’t need to win that fight.”

I laughed. “Danny, have you ever thought that you might be too nice to be an ultimate fighter?”

“Or too old,” he said.

“Maybe. But I think you’re too kind. You can’t be a winning ultimate fighter and care about your competitor’s arm.”

“Yeah, I reckon you’re right.”

“Danny, you have Jesus inked on your back. People with 21-inch Jesuses on their back don’t purposefully break people’s arms unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Danny grinned. “Crazy thing about it, I wasn’t even a Christian when I got that tattoo. I would have easily broken that kid’s arm back then. I got the tattoo because I thought it was badass. Which is also the reason I got these.” Danny pointed to the tattoos of two bolts of lightening coming out of the crotch of his pants. “These were definitely badass when I got them.”

Both of us laughed.

The truth is, Danny is pretty badass. He’s one of the strongest people I know. But Danny also has a very gentle spirit about him. He and I talk often about faith and hope. Danny’s theology is a simple one, one that he often quotes, “I reckon the Good Lord will take care of me. He always has.”

Wherever Danny is, I hope the Good Lord is taking care of him.

The following video is CNN’s coverage about the search for Danny. Thank you, Anderson Cooper for reporting about Nashville’s flood.