pregnant with the embryo of a novel
I’ve spent time in suspicions about online community, loathing Facebook, dubbing my screen a beast. I think it took peeling those away to understood more about Christ’s kingship over all. Then blogging and social media, too, were able to come back into proper perspective. I value our local community as the central expression of the church. But I’m ready to admit that these relatively new formats of creative expression and even community are building us up into temples, too. (So what if it took me five years to figure that out?)
Kimberlee had a true email conversation with me about mentorship! We chatted to God about each other. So you can’t tell me online community is a farce. I guess I won’t die on that altar.
(So, I praise for the web, I praise for virtual friendships, I praise for the steady journalism of bloggers! I even praise for Facebook, which I severed from my life over a year ago, and which, upon reentering, has tied my heart close with a suffering friend’s. God’s totally got a handle on all things technological, says the hippie idealist. There is grace for modernity and complexity.)
This blog is beginning to feel more like a love letter to you all. I don’t feel like squeezing out my love letters to you on a daily, or even weekly basis, keeping one eye to the stats record. But when I need to update you on how my mind is wrestling with big God-questions, or if I can’t stop explaining why my mouth is drop-jawed at some new discovery, you can expect to find me here.
But in the in between times, when I’m not with my boys or my lover, you will find me at Radina’s. I’ll be writing a novel. Maybe, like Annie Dillard, I’ll be facing a wall instead of a window, so that in blandness and ugliness, I can write the beauty that begs to be unveiled. But it’s going to be a long, slow beauty. I’m going to give myself years. And though I want it more than ever, I will stake no claims on my book’s success.
I’m just saying, I’m catching wind of where this ship needs to be headed. And I’ll send postcards!
Have you read this viral post by Sarah Bessey? The one where she blesses you and me?
This is the part I’m talking about right now:
Your ministry, your work, begins now, and it began long ago, in your world. Turn around, and face your life. Look it in the eye. This is it.
If you are surrounded by jelly-faced toddlers or thousands of longing hungry souls, or if you lift your head to find yourself in a hospital or a back alley or a church or an orphanage or your own suburban kitchen, if you are given a voice for dozens or only one other soul, you are a minister, feel it, say the words, roll them against your teeth: you have been commissioned for the work of the Gospel, in Christ Jesus, you have.
She and my parents, my husband and motherhood, our adoption, our displacement in Texas — all of these (and more!) have brought me to this work of writing. It’s gospel-driving life, and as with gospel force in general, it’s irresistible.