Why You Should Read My Blog
So, first things first: why blog? And, then, an even more important, and difficult, question: why should you follow my blog?
After all, isn’t blogging mainly an exercise in narcissism? A spewing forth of mental vomit? A forum for broadcasting to the world our most ignoble thoughts and self-absorbed anxieties- the kind we wrote down in a fit of self-pitying, juvenile angst- the sorts of sentiments which we now, as dignified and reasonable human beings, now look back on with laughter, or an occasional shudder?
Perhaps.
Or, then again, even if blogging isn’t always as emotionally indulgent as a teenage Gothic assembly of Twilight aficionados, doesn’t it often amount to silliness at best- and downright drivel at worst? Isn’t it akin to putting a megaphone into the hands of those throwaway thoughts which your brain flushes down the toilet each night as your mind floats aimlessly, like a ghost with no one to haunt? Blogging is AMR- amplified mental residue (not to be confused with the illustrious American Medical Response company of paramedic lore J).
Point taken.
And then, of course, the parade of theology and opinion blogs swells. And here we are sometimes met with a fiend which can be just as insidious and ugly than the base emotional self-pleasuring of middle-schooldom; that is the noxious tendency to regard my opinion as the final word on any subject- the need to weigh in on every issue- and, most repugnant of all, the secret pleasure in every form of conflict, argumentation, disputation, over-qualifying, nit-picking, gnat-straining and verbal violence. In other words: pride.
I remember recently reading a Facebook post, which went something like this: “I don’t know which is worse for the church: complacency or blogging.” Obviously the mere fact that this post inaugurates a new blog (a blog which, I reckon, shall be laced with theological musings- all in good time, my dear Watson!) belies my rejection of such an irresponsible and snobbish blanket-statement. I would not deign to swat the fly of jejune and juvenile blogging with the iron gauntlet of such a sweeping condemnation. However, let me quickly concede that I sympathize with the itch to heap scorn on every form of writing which masquerades as prophetic, but in reality, is self-important, smug, thoughtless, and pretentious. (Then again, perhaps you, gentle reader, find me pretentious. Touche).
But, alas, we have still left untouched the most damning of all blog-charges: superfluity! Ah, what condemnation resides in such a pretty word! Come on. Do we really need another blog? Aren’t there already thousands of other blogs out there, and, more importantly, millions of books (a medium which excels the blog in so many ways, that the blog seems almost a deformed second-cousin by comparison?).
Against this litany of charges which I’ve amassed against myself, I fear that I have little defense. Indeed, I’m tempted either to say that I have no answer or to bloviate about a Theology of blogging (no offense to those of you who have given a solid Biblical justification and/or apologetic for blogging, a la John Piper- whom I consider the saintliest man I know of (not that I’ve met him in person) You hero-worshipper with your Christian celebrities! Yes, I am guilty as charged.)
It’s not that I doubt the creational goodness, theoretical usefulness, redemptive possibilities, evangelistic potential, or social capital of blogging itself, as an ideal Platonic form floating about in space. No my concern is with the concrete: given the lackluster reputation of blogging, why should I contribute to the mess and confusion?
Perhaps I am being too hard on myself, and thus, ironically, am engaging in self-fulfilling prophecy. Or perhaps this whole line of thought is wholly uninteresting to you, gentle reader.
But let me briefly set before you 1) why I want to blog and 2) why I like to read other people’s blogs.
1) My Dad told me to. Yes, it’s true, and, No, it’s really not much more complicated than that. I proposed starting a grass-cutting business to earn some extra money and instead he told me to start a blog. If you are scratching you’re head right now, well, so was I when he said it, but maybe he’s right. He said it would be a good way to practice my writing and maybe even earn some money. One of the things I always appreciated about my dad is that he can make things seem so simple. It’s always nice to ask advice from the people who make your problems seem simpler, as opposed to those tortured minds who could make a labyrinth out of a mousetrap. Even if Dad’s advice is sometimes wrong (which I doubt), at least you don’t walk away from that conversation wondering how your initial question “Hey Dad, what should I do for a career?” degenerated into a kaleidoscope of discombobulated self-examination and hypothetical questions “What if I had taken that honors course in 4th grade? Maybe then I wouldn’t be so darn people-pleasing.” Thanks Dad!
2) As far as I can discern, more than anything else, I read other people’s blogs because I want to get the flavor of that person, to catch a bit of his spirit, to have him rub off on me a little. Blogs by necessity lack the elaborate architecture and detailed execution of a tome. A blog will always lack the thoroughness of a book, or else it will be insufferable. And yet, I have found that a blog can stave off the hunger pangs until I can manage to get my hands on a heartier sustenance. Even more than that, a truly great blog post, (perhaps this an oxymoron) can have all the allure of an improvised jazz solo: a simple thought, spontaneously developed in the hands of an artist. True, it lacks the all-encompassing majesty of a fully-orchestrated symphony, but, it gives you a unique glimpse into the mind of the artist. Here are his first thoughts and impressions- raw, unedited, unmediated. It is pure playfulness.
So, now that I have virtually elevated the blogpost to an artform, I ought to quit before I set standards that will discourage me from approaching the keyboard again. All I can hope is that, here, at this blog, you might catch a whiff of something arresting, exciting, stimulating. Perhaps Imagination will reach his fingers through these feeble lines and gesture towards the misty mountain which I have seen, but will inevitably fail to paint in my wimpy words. If I can attain so much, it will be more than enough.
