Writing has long been a large part of my life. Putting words down in ink or RGB data is very much the way in which I process the world. This is the case for me whether I’m writing outline-form lists to collect thoughts briefly, or if I’m doing a deep dive on a subject and writing comically long blog posts that few people read.
Two and a half years ago, I started to be much more intentional about writing blog posts. This was to encourage growth as a writer and thinker. That came in the form of And the Rest of It. Interestingly, I wrote mostly about my theology, which was slowly becoming more confessionally reformed.
That blog wasn’t really for everyone else, as though I’m some super clever theologian who has everything right (spoiler: I’m not). It was for me. It was a learning tool, a thinking tool. It forced me to work systematically through topics, gave me accountability to be doing that continuously, and provided a catalyst for a lot of good conversations online and offline.
At the beginning of 2017, I made a conscious shift away from blogging and started my Instagram #everyday project. My intention was to write a little less and spend more time working in visual mediums. What I’ve found over this last year is that I do not value my own thoughts on theology enough to post them. I still certainly use writing privately as a tool for learning, but the more that I have read the work of skilled theologians, the more I realized that the value of my public writing trends downward the more I do it.
I don’t mean this in a self-deprecating way; I’m not throwing a pity party, and I don’t even like parties. I simply would rather spend my time, and the time of anyone who wishes to hear me, saying unique — or at least more unique — things. That’s why I’m still podcasting about Christians in creative fields, because I think that not many thinkers have taken time to speak to those issues, and creative pursuits are a larger part of our society when compared with even 200 years ago.
Much of what I wrote about on my blog was just simplified, condensed versions of what could be learned by studying the reformed confessions and catechisms, or reading a good reformed systematic theology (I’m not referring to Grudem here) — often accompanied with a more than generous helping of puns.
But here’s the thing. There are hundreds, thousands — probably hundreds of thousands — of books that try to simplify orthodox (or even reformed) theology into a 200 page paperback, with clever stories and examples to keep people interested. That’s not even counting the blog posts.
Imagine, if you will, going to a grocery store and discovering hundreds of aisles of baby food. This nutrition, if we ignore quality of life and what I’ll delicately call intestinal consequences, might be able to sustain an adult. This glut of baby food stretches on for miles, but much of it is packaged and advertised as adult food. Steak dinners and turkey sandwiches seem to abound, but it’s all just blended mush with natural and artificial flavors. People recommend dishes to you like the prime rib, but you try it and find that it tastes largely the same as the lemon meringue pie, but with A1 steak sauce. And the texture is identical.
This is the world of a Christian publishing and Christian blogs. To mix my metaphors, you do sometimes find a golden needle in the haystack. That’s the variable reward that keeps you coming back to the grocery-store-haystack.
I don’t want to make more cleverly packaged baby food. I don’t deny that baby food is helpful to babies, and I certainly don’t deny that it should exist. I just think that there should be significantly less of it, that it should be more honest about what it is, and that I’m not called to produce more of it.
All of that was in order to say that I’ve acknowledged that I blog less and I don’t intend to change that. This means I don’t need a big fancy blogging website, nor the upkeep that comes with having a WordPress install. That’s why I’ve decided to undertake a small change in Medium.