I've been thinking more about words. Specifically, about words in the Christian blogosphere (/twitterscape). I've come to this:
If my words don't inspire you to seek The Word--then they are poor words. Empty words. They've got nothing for you. If my words don't turn you to Christ, they're dead words.
Obviously, there are a great many words and many great ideas that turn us to Christ, and what spins you might leave me standing still. So...how do we decide which words to speak, and which to leave?
I'm not sure.
I do think this issue is tied into holiness. A person who writes, or speaks of God is one who does something a little dangerous. If what you say, or write, doesn't come from wisdom, from prayer, or truth--you're opening yourself to some pretty heavy stuff. Because words are not idle. The words of a believer especially. There's plenty in the Bible to commend the practice of watching one's tongue. God cares about what we say, and now, what we blog, what we tweet.
Because His work is "to believe in the one he sent." And in believing, we understand. And in understanding, we love. In loving, we share. We share words. But what are the words if they don't start and end in belief?
So back to the start. If my words don't inspire you to seek The Word--they are in fact poor words, dead words.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
words about words.
I don't feel like writing much anymore, because sometimes, I don't think that the world needs another voice. It doesn't need another opinion. Another somebody's re-framing of some or other nominally biblical concept.
So I've been keeping mostly to myself on issues of faith. I'm not saying that's the right thing to do. It's just what I've been doing.
Lately, things that people said to me early on in my time at James River, are starting to make sense. I didn't understand at the time. Now, I do.
Tonight, I've been thinking about this conversation I had with a pastor's wife at the Newcomer's Dinner I went to back in September of 2009. She told me that thinking or reading too much about different ideas in faith can "muddy the waters." At the time, I thought that was about the most anti-intellectual piece of junk I had ever heard. I even wrote a blog post about it. Now, I think I get it.
I've been writing less in part because I've been reading more scripture, and spending more time in prayer. As I do, all of the opinions and books and articles that come out of the complex of Christianity start to seem not like tools, but like distractions. So many voices. So much well-intentioned advice. So much to read, and look at, and think about, that steals time from what will save you--the Gospel; from what will grow you--His word. I've been writing less because I don't want to be another voice, another distraction.
What the pastor's wife meant was not what I heard at the time--that reading and thinking outside of scripture will prevent the sure indoctrination of evangelical dogma. She meant that though sometimes useful, and often entertaining, all of the thought and literature outside of scripture is not saving, not ultimately an actual supernatural source for life and growth. It muddies the waters of life.
Some people see it as their calling to write about God. To put out new ideas, and to challenge old ones. I did. I was sure that I was a voice of change. Now, I wonder whether we oughtn't be so much more careful with our voices, our words. Not because words are particularly powerful in creating change, but because often, they're not.
Charles Fox Parham, an early figure in Pentecostal history, wrote that we shouldn't go around knocking down other peoples' houses. Rather, we should come alongside their houses, build better ones, and invite them over.
Words can be a shell. They get out there, and then...that's it. They're out there. That's all. The house is still old, it's falling down.
God knows this. There are no shortages of references to wordlessness in the Bible, in the face of great joy, or great sorrow. That's the great thing about tongues--prayer that circumvents our ability to talk about God, to say clever things to or about Him.
When in the Presence, we stand without words. I wonder sometimes if we shouldn't stand that same way in the presence of one another.
So I've been keeping mostly to myself on issues of faith. I'm not saying that's the right thing to do. It's just what I've been doing.
Lately, things that people said to me early on in my time at James River, are starting to make sense. I didn't understand at the time. Now, I do.
Tonight, I've been thinking about this conversation I had with a pastor's wife at the Newcomer's Dinner I went to back in September of 2009. She told me that thinking or reading too much about different ideas in faith can "muddy the waters." At the time, I thought that was about the most anti-intellectual piece of junk I had ever heard. I even wrote a blog post about it. Now, I think I get it.
I've been writing less in part because I've been reading more scripture, and spending more time in prayer. As I do, all of the opinions and books and articles that come out of the complex of Christianity start to seem not like tools, but like distractions. So many voices. So much well-intentioned advice. So much to read, and look at, and think about, that steals time from what will save you--the Gospel; from what will grow you--His word. I've been writing less because I don't want to be another voice, another distraction.
What the pastor's wife meant was not what I heard at the time--that reading and thinking outside of scripture will prevent the sure indoctrination of evangelical dogma. She meant that though sometimes useful, and often entertaining, all of the thought and literature outside of scripture is not saving, not ultimately an actual supernatural source for life and growth. It muddies the waters of life.
Some people see it as their calling to write about God. To put out new ideas, and to challenge old ones. I did. I was sure that I was a voice of change. Now, I wonder whether we oughtn't be so much more careful with our voices, our words. Not because words are particularly powerful in creating change, but because often, they're not.
Charles Fox Parham, an early figure in Pentecostal history, wrote that we shouldn't go around knocking down other peoples' houses. Rather, we should come alongside their houses, build better ones, and invite them over.
Words can be a shell. They get out there, and then...that's it. They're out there. That's all. The house is still old, it's falling down.
God knows this. There are no shortages of references to wordlessness in the Bible, in the face of great joy, or great sorrow. That's the great thing about tongues--prayer that circumvents our ability to talk about God, to say clever things to or about Him.
When in the Presence, we stand without words. I wonder sometimes if we shouldn't stand that same way in the presence of one another.
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