{The Conundrums of Christian Writing and Blogging: A Series}
This quote appeared on my Pinterest feed a couple
of weeks ago and, like a chill breeze that steals in under the warped door
frame, it has descended down deep into my marrow. For you see, I have been
awash in brackish thoughts of late.
With a few exceptions, I have taken a step back
from my online presence the last six months. Five months ago, I gave birth to
my third son. Three months ago, my mother began another round of chemotherapy.
My withdrawal from the non-stop traffic of the internet was both a conscious
and inevitable choice. I do not regret my decision but I would be lying through
my teeth if I didn’t admit that, ever since, I have been at battle with doubt
and envy.
My biggest frustration with the world of writing
and platform building and influence is that what it requires seems so far
removed from a life that bears the fruit worth reading about—a life of depth
and stillness and meaning.
Writing, for me, has always felt like an intimate
dinner party, hemmed in by golden light and the clink of dishes, measured in
the crumbs stolen away on fingertips and the slow warmth from poured wine.
There are the moments of sure knowing just as there are the heavy silences that
come from the unknowing. But always, there is the table-- worn and steady, wide
and open.
But my attempts to translate that way of being to
the online world feel antiquated and stilted, at best.
It feels like sidling up to a busy counter with a
bustling lunch crowd. Bread is broken and laughter distilled, yes, but the din
of conversation is confusing to this ambivert who simultaneously wants to try
new dishes and run out the door, hands pressed over her ears.
I want to join in, truly I do, but sometimes it
seems that in order to he heard anymore you just have to keep talking. And if
you aren’t talking, others start walking.
That reality is the crack through which doubt and
envy seep in, staining fabric already worn a bit thin. It’s also the tender
spot struck silent by the quote above.
The last few months I have watched those whose
words I love and champion take wing and fly and it has been glorious for the
grand knowing of the gift that is to the world. But it has also been gut-wrenching.
For as genuinely as I have exalted in their successes, I have also stood silent
in the space that has opened up between us, tasting the char left in their
wake. It has been difficult not to feel left behind.
To admit this feels anathema to all that I
believe is good about the world of writing and blogging. I have become
connected to an online community of writers (here
and here
and here,
just to name a few) that, most assuredly, is a profound gift in my life. I have
been encouraged and uplifted, loved and cherished, prayed for and buoyed by
dozens of folks I’ve never met in real life. My identity as a writer, woman,
spiritual being and friend, has been shaped immeasurably by my connections
online. This is as true as the day is long.
So feeling jealous of others’ success--others who
have lavished me with love and support, again and again--is a tell tale sign
that something significant is amiss. I’ve lost my center, it seems, if it has
become more about me and less about revelation and glory.
Since reading that quote from Buddha I’ve been
meditating on the implications of what it would mean to fully embrace its
truth. And I’ve been asking myself some hard questions.
What if I decided, right here and right now, to let
go of the desires for applause and acclaim?
What if I decided, instead, to release my words
to the world in an effort to sow love in greater measure? What if I chose to
string together word upon word as a discipline in gentleness? And what if—what
if—I honed my craft for the sheer love of art and I let that, and that alone,
reveal the path meant for me?
I’m not sure how the answers to those questions
will fair in a parley with the platform and influence jockeys. They might not
even get an audience.
But I’m trying to be one that doesn’t care about
all of that. For, in the end, there’s no greater platform than love, gentleness
and grace.
Selah.
A classical piece {only the first piece in the video--the rest, you can listen to, if you enjoy doing so}, hand-picked by Holly, something she relates to--she says this is where her writer muse lives, in between the sad notes. What a beautiful soul she is.
Holly is a wife, very relaxed homeschooling mom of three boys, snapper of photos, coming of age writer and a soul drowning in grace. After years in Atlanta where she attended college, married the love of her life and lived in an intentional community, she found her way back to her home state of Missouri. She now lives in an antebellum stone house, raises chickens (sometimes) and pretends that she lives in the country. You can find more of her astoundingly gorgeous words here on her blog, A Lifetime of Days, or you can find her twittering here, and facebooking here.
**This is a series on writing--Let's all gather around the table in the comments and discuss! And I hope you'll be back next week, for more delving into this. At the end of the series, Kelli Woodford and I are hosting a link-up here for you to share your own stories of your writing and blogging journey. Kelli and I will choose one *amazing* story from the link-up to feature on both of our blogs sometime around the end of March. (nailed-down dates to come). So, what are the issues we face and deal with as writers? Please keep this theme in mind, and think of how you'd like to share your own story or journey of blogging/writing with us! **{Requirements for link-up: Please no maligning/no mention in a negative manner of other blogs/authors/writers/brothers & sisters in Christ. Hurt does happen in community, and if we write about that, one option is to change the name/situation/dates, so that the people involved remain anonymous and are protected. "Whoever would foster love covers over an offense, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends." Proverbs 17:9}
--Here are the other posts in this series:
In Which I Invite Us All to the Table --Nacole Simmons
A Hand In Your Own -- a guest post from Kelli Woodford
A Divided Loyalty and the Stinging Truth --a guest post from Michelle DeRusha
Rooted In A Tangible Grace -- Kelli Woodford
On Prostitution: Cheap Grace and One Word: Enough --Nacole Simmons
A classical piece {only the first piece in the video--the rest, you can listen to, if you enjoy doing so}, hand-picked by Holly, something she relates to--she says this is where her writer muse lives, in between the sad notes. What a beautiful soul she is.
Holly is a wife, very relaxed homeschooling mom of three boys, snapper of photos, coming of age writer and a soul drowning in grace. After years in Atlanta where she attended college, married the love of her life and lived in an intentional community, she found her way back to her home state of Missouri. She now lives in an antebellum stone house, raises chickens (sometimes) and pretends that she lives in the country. You can find more of her astoundingly gorgeous words here on her blog, A Lifetime of Days, or you can find her twittering here, and facebooking here.
**This is a series on writing--Let's all gather around the table in the comments and discuss! And I hope you'll be back next week, for more delving into this. At the end of the series, Kelli Woodford and I are hosting a link-up here for you to share your own stories of your writing and blogging journey. Kelli and I will choose one *amazing* story from the link-up to feature on both of our blogs sometime around the end of March. (nailed-down dates to come). So, what are the issues we face and deal with as writers? Please keep this theme in mind, and think of how you'd like to share your own story or journey of blogging/writing with us! **{Requirements for link-up: Please no maligning/no mention in a negative manner of other blogs/authors/writers/brothers & sisters in Christ. Hurt does happen in community, and if we write about that, one option is to change the name/situation/dates, so that the people involved remain anonymous and are protected. "Whoever would foster love covers over an offense, but whoever repeats the matter separates close friends." Proverbs 17:9}
--Here are the other posts in this series:
In Which I Invite Us All to the Table --Nacole Simmons
A Hand In Your Own -- a guest post from Kelli Woodford
A Divided Loyalty and the Stinging Truth --a guest post from Michelle DeRusha
Rooted In A Tangible Grace -- Kelli Woodford
On Prostitution: Cheap Grace and One Word: Enough --Nacole Simmons
