If you’ve followed my blog for any period of time, I am truly humbled. It’s mind boggling that anyone would care enough about my thoughts to commit even a few minutes to reading them. For those of you, like David Patterson, who have been following since the beginning, I apologize for those early posts (which in retrospect are more like mini term papers).
I started this blog right after grad school when I had a million thoughts swirling around my head and could write 5,000-word essays in my sleep. I guess after reading hundreds of books in two short years I tricked myself into thinking I was smart and interesting.
Initially, I decided to write about “Christ, Culture, Community and Church” (the tagline that still appears at the top of my homepage). At that time, I was thinking about getting a PhD in Cultural Anthropology. Fortunately, my wife threatened me with physical violence (not really; but she wasn’t very keen on the idea of 3 more years of single parenting). Then a college President that I greatly respect talked some sense into me. His actual words were: “There’s a reason why they call it a ‘terminal degree’: it will kill you. So unless you want to teach at a university, I don’t know why you would do that to yourself.”
So… no PhD for me.
Since then I’ve realized that most of my brilliant thoughts were inspired by other people (who actually are smart and interesting) — not me. I like to think there are at least a few traces of my Intellectual DNA in there somewhere (but I doubt there’s enough for a conviction).
The ironic thing is, when I write about Christ, Culture, Community or Church – nobody really cares. But when I write about things that seem silly or off-the-cuff (like Rubbernecking, roMANce or the End of the World in 2012) my blog stats skyrocket.
WTFiddle?? I don’t get it.
In recent months, you may have noticed that the frequency of my posts has dwindled to a near standstill; more likely, they’ve simply been “out of sight and out of mind.”
I didn’t read a single book in 2011. I wanted to clear my head and re-discover my own voice.
Me to Myself: ”Hello? Kraig? Are you still in there?”
Myself to Me: ”….”
Truth is, behind the scenes I’ve been in a wrestling match with God (if you can imagine a gnat wrestling an elephant).
Me to God: ”Hello? God? Are you still up there?”
God to Me: ”….”
I’m pretty sure God is still up there, but for the first time in my adult life I’ve entered a new year without any measurable goals. I don’t have an agenda. I don’t have a strategic plan. I don’t even know what I’m going to do for dinner tonight. I certainly don’t know what I’m going to blog about.
I feel like I’m floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean with no paddle, no wind, and no sail. Fortunately, there aren’t any waves, either. Or sharks. Yet.
I think I’ll buy a volleyball.
And name it Wilson.
Until then, let me leave you with the words of someone else, who stole my thoughts for his book (is “psychic plagiarism” illegal?).
Since the day I committed my life to following Christ, I have struggled to understand what God expects of me. To the best of my ability, though, I have endeavored to live out my faith, both privately—through prayer, Scripture study, and worship—and publicly, by demonstrating God’s love to others through my actions and words, not just within my small circle of relationships but in the broader community as well. I have tried to appreciate the mystery of the good news we Christians call the “gospel” and its power to change the world by changing the human heart. I have stumbled many times on this journey and do not claim to have it all figured out….
I, too, have had a lifelong battle trying to “walk the talk.” I am certainly no saint or hero, and I never set out to “save the world”—I didn’t have that kind of courage or imagination. I was a most reluctant recruit to this cause—in many ways a coward. But as you read a little more about my story, my hope is that you’ll learn from my mistakes and laugh a little at my failures. That God still chooses to use flawed human beings like me is both astonishing and encouraging. And if He can use me, He can use you.”
Richard Stearns, The Hole in Our Gospel (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2009), p.4.
