The irony of writing this blog is that I don’t necessarily propose you read it. Here are three reasons why: 1. Your time might be better spent elsewhere.
Allow me for a moment to state the obvious: reading blogs takes time. And when did you last you read one blog post and quit? When didn’t your intended five minutes turn into a wasted half-hour? And more importantly, when did you last use the, “I have no time” excuse for defending why you neglecting the good you’re leaving undone, that hard and diligent work to which God is patiently calling you? Sure, we’d all read our Bibles, exercise, keep our house clean, serve at church, and play board games with our kids if only we had more time.
(Meanwhile, .75 minutes of your life has been wasted on this dull paragraph.)
2. A blog is no substitute for the Bible, even Ann Voskamp’s blog.
The one blog I used to religiously read was A Holy Experience. During our brief homeschooling stint, Ann’s words were companions, and in many ways, she mentored me through her blog. I learned to love my children better and embrace the holiness of my ordinary days because Ann, through words and pictures, modeled those prayerful intentions for me. And though the woman is quite nearly a saint, even Ann’s blog, which is indeed a holy experience, cannot substitute for the living words of Scripture.
If there is one reason I love and trust the Scriptures (beyond the historical defense of their credibility), it’s the empirical experience of sitting under their holy and beautiful weight. They live, breath, become animate in me, unraveling my doubts and struggles, echoing my joys and celebrations, teaching me to be myself, and instructing me in the way of God. I do not waste time to heed those words: I gain life, even eternity itself.
3. Bloggers have a limited bag of tricks.
A friend and I recently talked about the shelf life of a blog. Initially, when you discover a new blog and fall in love with the content, you’re an instant fan, greedily reading everything you can. But as the weeks, months go on, you begin to realize this (blog) dog has no new tricks. If you’re a writer and read blogs for their written content, you begin to realize the limited idiomatic and thematic scope of every writer. If you’re a photographer and follow blogs for their visual content, you soon realize that every picture begins to resemble the next. Once you realize that your blogger isn’t as inventive as you once thought, your enthusiasm wanes. You move on.
This is why I am under no illusion: You will get bored of me. I fully expect it and release you from reader loyalty. And neither will I waste my life chasing down the next big trick, trying to endlessly re-invent this dog-and-pony show. I will be myself, embrace the finitude of my words and wisdom, and let new readers come and stay for the season, which has been intended for them.