04/30/2026
We’re Not Just Electing a Mayor — We’re Being Given a Man Like Mark McBrayer
There’s something important I want to say about Mark McBrayer—and it’s not political.
In fact, if you’re looking for a policy breakdown, I’m not your guy. Mark and I have disagreed on policy before. We’ve had real conversations, sometimes long ones, where we didn’t land in the same place. That matters. It should matter.
But here’s what also matters: Lubbock didn’t elect me. I don’t carry the weight of governing a city. I have a voice, yes—but not a constituency. And that distinction is exactly why what I’m about to say carries weight.
Because what I know about Mark isn’t just what he does in office.
It’s who he is when nobody’s watching.
I’ve known Mark for somewhere between 15 and 20 years. Long before he was mayor. Long before politics was even part of the conversation.
I met him when I was young, passionate, and—if I’m being honest—often a bull in a china shop. I had big ideas, not much structure, and I was trying to build something meaningful from nothing. That’s when Mark stepped in.
He didn’t have to.
He joined the board of my very first attempt at a ministry. And he didn’t just put his name on it—he invested in it. Financially, yes. But more than that, he invested his time, his energy, and his belief in me.
Week after week, if I asked, he’d sit with me in his library. We’d talk theology. We’d talk about what it means to be a man. We’d talk about responsibility, leadership, and restraint. And where I was rough around the edges, Mark had a way of covering that—not by controlling me, but by refining the moment with a kind of quiet elegance.
That’s who he is.
Not loud. Not combative. But firm. Thoughtful. Grounded.
There are moments that stick with you in life—not because they were big public events, but because they revealed someone’s character in a way you don’t forget.
I remember one Christmas Eve. Finances were tight. Ministry life doesn’t always come with stability. The doorbell rings after dark. You don’t expect anyone.
And there’s Mark and Cindy—arms full of presents for my kids. Smiling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. No announcement. No recognition. Just showing up.
That’s not politics. That’s character.
I remember a time when I had a big meeting coming up. I needed to look the part, and I didn’t have the means. Mark brought me into his home, opened his closet, and handed me custom suits. No hesitation. Just, “Here, take what you need.”
I remember receiving an award once. As a foster kid, I didn’t have a father or family to show up for moments like that.
But Mark was there.
Not because I asked. Because he decided to be.
Standing there, quietly, like a father would.
You don’t forget that.
And here’s what people need to understand: none of those moments benefited him. There was no strategic advantage. No political gain. In fact, there were times when supporting me probably wasn’t convenient—or even wise—from a public perception standpoint.
And he did it anyway.
That tells you something.
Now let me be equally clear about something else.
I haven’t sat down and interviewed every candidate in this race. I’ve watched what’s out there. I’ve listened. And I’ll say this honestly—we have a strong field. There are capable people stepping forward, and that matters for a city like Lubbock.
But my perspective is not neutral.
It can’t be.
It’s shaped by nearly two decades of watching one man consistently choose integrity, generosity, and conviction—even when it cost him something.
So yes, my view is biased. Deeply.
But it’s also informed in a way most opinions aren’t.
Now let’s be clear—Mark is not me politically. I’m more aggressive in certain areas. More hardline. He’s not built that way.
He’s steady.
He doesn’t react based on pressure or noise. He takes the time to understand an issue fully, to read, to think, and to make a decision based on what he believes is right—not just what’s popular.
And I’ll be honest—that doesn’t always line up with me. There are things I’d shut down immediately that he’ll take the time to evaluate.
But that’s exactly what real leadership looks like.
Not reflex. Not slogans. Not blanket answers.
Judgment.
Discipline.
The willingness to do the work before making the call.
That’s rare.
Especially now.
We live in a time where loud gets mistaken for strong. Where chaos gets mistaken for leadership. Where conviction often comes wrapped in ego instead of discipline.
Mark is the opposite of that.
He’s measured. He’s consistent. And he does what he says he’s going to do.
That matters more than people realize.
And here’s the part that I think Lubbock needs to hear:
This isn’t just about re-electing a mayor.
This is about recognizing what we’ve been given.
Because men like Mark McBrayer don’t just show up on a ballot. They’re built over decades. Through business, through faith, through family, through community. He understands small business because he lived it. He understands people because he’s invested in them. He understands Lubbock because he is Lubbock.
You don’t manufacture that.
You either have it—or you don’t.
And right now, in this moment in time, we have it.
We have a man leading this city who is mentally steady, deeply grounded, and capable of carrying the weight of leadership without needing to make it about himself.
We are the fortunate ones.
You can disagree with him. I have. You can push him. I have. That’s part of a healthy city.
But don’t overlook what’s sitting right in front of you.
Because I’ve had nearly two decades to watch this man up close—not on a stage, not behind a podium, but in living rooms, in hard conversations, in quiet acts of generosity that never made headlines.
And I can tell you this without hesitation:
Mark McBrayer isn’t just a good mayor.
He’s one of the finest men I’ve known in my lifetime.
And Lubbock is better for having him.
-L.L.
