On one hand, I love the opportunity it affords me to clear my head, to think things through and bring them to some order instead of the snarl of tangled thoughts that tend to live between my ears.
On the other hand, this blog terrifies me, and I hate it. I hate it with a passion.
I take my most precious thoughts, the things that I've mulled over for days, wrestled with, prayed over, the ideas I actually care about, and I put them "out there". I don't do it because I think that what I have to say is so special or wonderful; I'm always blown away that anyone would read what I write. No, I do it because the words won't let me go until I have written them down.
I could write in private and call it a journal, and there are many days I'm tempted to do so. I'm tempted to lock this blog down, make it for my eyes only, or force any potential readers to ask for my permission to see what I've written. Every time I sit down to write, there is a dread in the pit of my stomach, the horrible nagging thought, "What if this thing goes viral on me?" Occasionally, someone has shared something I've written, and I've seen the reader-number spike, and my heart nearly stops.
Once in a while, I think, So what if it goes viral? You'd be famous! You'd be like all those other cool bloggers out there that everyone talks about.
Like Ann Voskamp -- the panentheistic pagan new ager who is all about feeling and can't think a rational thought.
Like John Piper -- the legalistic, mysogenistic Calvinist who weirdly talks about Christian hedonism.
Like Mark Driscoll -- the insensitive caveman who thinks being a real man involves farting and burping.
Like Billy Graham -- the Arminian preacher who sings Just as I Am and says everyone can be saved even though Christ died only for the elect.
Like Rachel Held Evans -- the feministic homophile who doesn't believe in the Bible.
Like Rob Bell -- who's going to hell because he doesn't think it exists.
Like John McArthur -- the divisive heresy-hunter who is trapped under the law and without the Spirit of God.
Like Beth Moore -- the floozy blonde who misinterprets Scripture and who thinks God actually talks to her. Pfft!
And that's when my heart freezes.
Because Christians are cruel.
My ideas are important to me. I take my ideas, my most precious thoughts, and I put them out there for others to read, and I know that one day, I am going to say something you disagree with, and Christians are cruel.
My ideas are important to me. I take my ideas, my most precious thoughts, and I put them out there for others to read, and I know that one day, I am going to say something you disagree with, and Christians are cruel.
Because I'm not a "good" Christian: the most theologically balanced, right-living, perfectly sensitive-without-being-overly-sensitive, rational, thoughtful, deeply caring, grace-filled individual walking the planet. I don't think and act in all ways just like you. I'm going to come to different conclusions, or live out my faith in different ways. I'm going to offend you, unintentionally, simply by being me. And Christians are cruel.
I'm not saying that theology isn't important, and that we should just turn a blind eye to differences. I care deeply about sound theology, and I work hard to live out my faith faithfully. I'm willing to think hard and consider seriously. But it seems inevitable that when Christians start talking about those differences, at some point in the conversation, we start throwing out words like "heretic" and "hypocrite". We start accusing each other of not taking the Word of God seriously because we've studied the same passage and come to different conclusions. We accuse each other of hypocrisy because I have chosen to live out my faith in Jesus in different ways than you have. We dismiss each other not because of our ideas, but because of who we are. Well, you know, she grew up Reformed. Well, you know, she's gone baptist. We get angry. We get to thinking that our way is the only right way, and if you don't agree, you must be either patently stupid or deliberately obtuse, or a heretic or a hypocrite, or part of the false church. We attack each other, and the ideas never get discussed. We become ugly, vicious, and cruel. We disown each other. We condemn our brothers and sisters to hell and we do it in the name of Christ.
So I don't want to go viral. I don't want to be cool. I don't want to put my ideas out there. I don't want to write this blog. But I do, because every once in a while, someone says to me, "That helped me. That ministered to me." I think, If I can help one person catch a fresh glimpse of God through something I wrote, is that not a good thing? Chances are high it won't go viral. I have no illusions. It's probably the only reason I've dared to continue. "What if it goes viral . . . NAH! Like who cares what I write!! Hah!" In that imagined safety, I hit "publish". But I know it's a risk, even a small risk. Someday, someone will disagree with me. Someone will hate me. Someone will condemn me. And that person will probably be a brother or sister in Christ.
Is it worth the risk? I don't know. I need to think about that. I need to pray about it. I have to weigh it carefully. After some of the things I've seen and read on the Internet this past week, I'm just not sure anymore. So I'm going to take a break and regroup. I'll admit it: I'm a little scared. So it's time to stop and pray.
Perhaps, in the meantime, I'll take to writing about the meatballs I had for dinner last night and what I wore to work today.
"For it is not an enemy who taunts me—
then I could bear it;
it is not an adversary who deals insolently with me—
then I could hide from him.
But it is you, a man, my equal,
my companion, my familiar friend.
We used to take sweet counsel together;
within God's house we walked in the throng" (Psalm 55:12-14).
1 comment:
You are so very gifted with your words Marianne
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