I have a list somewhere of posts waiting to be written, but my list has been sorely neglected in recent times.
In part, this is due to the glorious fact that life is very full right now.
Not overly busy or hectic, but full.
My productivity in the everyday world of work and family has left little margin for musings in the digital realm.
The other part of this writer’s block, though, is due to grief.
There’s been some stuff to grieve on our end.
Personal stuff like grandpa and transitions and the hard work of letting go.
But there’s also been a lot to grieve on a larger scale as well.
Shootings and division in the church (globally) and all sorts of variations of darkness.
I don’t often know how to respond to many of these things in my own daily life, let alone in this space.
So, I’ve sabbaticaled from blogging and really from engaging on-line in anything other than the Warriors and our family adventures. Like Job I felt the need to “proceed no further.”
Which has been quite refreshing actually.
I think the great, evil, seduction of the digital age, and of blogging in particular, is you craft something and you put it out there and there’s an implicit hope/desire/belief in an immediate response.
Whether examining my own life, and my own failings, or lamenting the unceasing darkness pervading our world, I am easily seduced by this immediacy. By action and results.
Things should change. Now!
The Jesuit philosopher, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin said: “Above all, trust in the slow work of God.”
To do this, I think, means being connected
(not in the online sense, but in the everyday sense),
to actual work in the real world.
I feel the pressure and the pull, especially as a church leader, to do or say something incredible.
Chardin reminds me that incredible things happen when I eat dinner with my family.
And discipline my kids.
And read the Scriptures on a daily basis.
And listen to and pray with and for hurting people.
And slog through the difficult work of creating a different kind of community.
In the last week or two I’ve seen some pretty amazing glimpses of light,
cracking through these dark times,
and it’s those beautiful,
flickering beams of light that help me keep trusting in the slow work.