I’m very reluctant to join the blogosphere. Completely and utterly. So cliché. I can imagine myself at a dinner party in the not too distant future:
Accomplished Lawyer Mom: “So, what have you been up to?”
Me: “Well, I started a (right hand moves across mouth) gldbg.”
Lawyer Mom: “A what?”
Me: “I started writing a (strategic cough) lggg.”
Lawyer: “Oh, a blog.”
I remember when I first heard of the concept a decade ago, I could think of nothing more laughable. Maybe it was just the way the word sounded. Blog. Could there be a more unattractive word? And a more self-indulgent endeavor?
Fast forward ten years, I read and follow several of them, from the most benign cooking blog to the more intellectually stimulating. They are a part of my day, read with coffee before the morning news. They are enriching, endearing. Good for a laugh or a thought. There’s really little funny about the blogging concept anymore, other than the fact that so many people have one. For the most part, they have come a long way from self-indulgence. I think there is a fine line between self-indulgence and self-revelation. The latter is scary. Anyone brave enough to put oneself on display might have something to offer others. At the very least we should give each other a chance.
So, before I go any further, these are my reasons for blogging. They are likely not too different from the reasons anyone else does, but they bear repeating.
1. I blog out of obedience: The parable of the talents has been haunting me lately. This is the one Jesus talked about to remind others to be responsible for the things God has given them. I know God has given me a gift of communication, a love for writing, and a few free hours every now and then on my hands. Of course, God is not into my performance, but I nevertheless must steward my gifts well. Why else do I have them?
2. I blog for my children: A while back, I thought of writing a series of letters to my kids, just in case the unthinkable should ever happen to me. Morbid I know, but they are the ones to whom I want to impart any wisdom I’ve gained in my short time here. I want them to know what moves me, what matters most. I figure if I enter the blogosphere, there will always be a record of what matters to me, the way I see the world.
3. I blog for my own self-indulgence: My dream writing job was always to be an editorial columnist in the newspaper. The one who got to philosophize about anything on her mind. Blogging is essentially that. It is also lovely because there are no hard and fast deadlines, assignments or bosses.
4. I blog for you: You, the nameless, faceless reader. The one or the twenty. I blog because I want to stoke a fire in you, or an interest at the very least. An interest in higher things, the things of God. I want the words to inspire, not because of me but because of Him (I call Him a Him). There have been people I have been around in my lifetime who have made me feel that He is more real, more alive and more present. These people encourage me in my journey. This is the chief end. This is my life ethos, the thing that drives me most. I have a prophetic gift, not in the future-telling way, but the “forth telling” way. God’s alive. That’s what the prophets did throughout the Old Testament. That’s what I do now.
Wiki-pedia defines a first-person narrative as “a mode whereby a story is narrated by one character at a time, speaking for and about themselves.” My words are not intended to belittle anyone who doesn’t share my Christian experience. I write about my own journey for the sake of uplifting and encouraging. This is not a theology blog. Nor is it meant to be a place for debate. There are plenty of places on the net where those things can be hashed out. This is my experience of God in first person.
p.s. I likely will never tell fun stories about riding a bike through the aisles of Target. For that, read this blog. And I am much too reserved to have memorable shenanigans on airplanes. For that, you can count on Tricia. I’m generally neither funny nor snarky. Apologies ahead of time. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.