They're inherently defined, small, and cozy.
Sometimes they're dusty, war torn, and full of last week's hash browns.
I've struggled with this blog corner for some time now (allowing the last post date to be the screaming confessor of this). I've struggled because it doesn't feel big enough or viral enough to keep writing. If I could just come up with some ultimate "Let it Go" parody that would go viral...again. Or if I could write something witty about how moms need to stop worrying about perfection, but start worrying about eating GMOs, then someone somewhere would say I'm awesome.
And if I'm honest, I spend many wasted minutes of my day trying to figure out how to get others to think I'm awesome.
Or at least interesting.
Or even just ridiculous.
I've been craving adjectives.
These last few months I've spent looking to my left and to my right. Really looking into my people and I've come to see that I've bought into the lie that I NEED to be noticed by the masses in order to have value. Andy Crouch at Christianity Today is spot on when he says that in the West we have evolved into a 'fame culture.' A culture where ministry success is weighted according to high attendance and large Twitter followings. We've created a place where name dropping and conference hoarding have become the litmus test for whether or not we are accepted into certain communities.
This is a shame.
A shame because there are shy, introverted, non-social media people who are crushing it for Jesus. But somehow it doesn't seem like enough unless you document it along the way. No longer is getting honor from the Lord enough. We need a collective pat on the back in order to feel validated in our ministries and lives.
This makes the philosophical part of me panic. Once we as a Christian culture start taking our cues on success from numbers and popularity, we begin making hasty decisions. When we feel like we've gotta hurry up or get left behind, there becomes very little room for long-suffering and endurance. Anonymity and service look like traits belonging to the outed kid on the dodgeball team. But over and over again, this is what Jesus was doing.
He was picking up the towel to scrap the junk off the disciples' feet.
He was turning his head and healing unpopular, outcasted women.
He picked a rag tag group of men to call friends.
And yet here we are as a culture.
I don't know what this will mean for writing here. For me, I'm turning off the comments and the followers tab. It's a self-imposed fence to keep out my ego.
We've each been given a corner. Big people, little people, angry people, flighty people, hurting people, dying people. People who need my adjective to be: humble, fierce person of prayer, gracious, loyal, full of faith.
I am to be faithful to my little corner. You are to be faithful to yours.
Let's let that be enough for today.
