I think every blogger goes through some sort of identity crisis, and some more than others. I'm no different from anyone else. I've been agonizing over the direction I would take The Gad(d)about now that I've established I can write regular entries without much labor.
As I said elsewhere, this blog is self-serving. I write it for my own satisfaction. I write it to seek fellowship with agreeable people. I don't have any grand designs on ministry through blogging, although I support those people who do. I don't have any delusions of grandeur this will become the great American outpost of evangelism, although I encourage others who have that vision. I am not fit to criticize, preach, teach, exegete, or otherwise serve the illusion that I am on par with the other clear-minded Christian preachers, teachers, thinkers, and writers I link to.
What I am is a Christian journalist who lives in California with my wife and my Mac laptop (which we refer to as our baby), loves college football and pro basketball, and has a penchant for attempting to crowbar a salty sense of humor into places you would not think it would fit. By design, that is what I intend for this blog to be. Nothing more, nothing less.
My blog does not define me. I define my blog.
I've received e-mail recently that takes aim at what I do here. Why do I write about "Stupid People?" Why do I write so glibly in an era that requires sobriety? Why don't I blog more about my personal spiritual journey that drew some readers in the first place? If I have to write about "worldy" stuff, why don't I start another blog to "separate the wheat from the chaff?"
First, I'm not a farmer. That whole wheat/chaff analogy wears thin when you consider Jesus wept, but he also must've laughed, although the Bible is relatively silent on the subject. The Bible says Jesus was a carpenter who hung out with fishermen. Let's set this straight in lay speak: Jesus was a construction worker who hung out with sailors, hookers, and Roman accountants. He drank wine -- not grape juice -- and was known to attend parties. Clearly, as Jesus knew he was going to die a horribly painful (but necessary) death, he still understood the benefits of real fellowship. It can make a burden easier to bear.
I do not mean to paint Jesus in worldly light. He did not party like the American sense of the word. He wasn't careless or provocative, and he certainly was not a fool. We're talking about true sinless perfection, complete with abundant grace from heaven. He's still the same man who twisted the religious hypocrites into the ground with his wisdom, healed, loved, and defended the poor and sick, lashed through the vendors in the temple courtyard, spent 40 days in the desert in pursuit of God, and the Man who went willingly to the cross to become the curse so that we might be free of the curse. His model of action and zealous pursuit of the Father's will surely does require a serious mind and a humble heart. What I'm saying is if Jesus could approach his friends and those He ministered to with a general ease of spirit without betraying the cause to end all causes, that's the model I'm shooting for. I want to drawn a line in the sand between the righteous, red-hot anger of God and the false outrage that comes with man-created religiosity. There are occasions where I believe God wants to speak through me with force, but without that inspiration, I'm going to continue to interact with this world in the way that communicates love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, genteleness, and self-control. As hard as it is for some to believe, sometimes that occurs as I'm writing about college football or drums, always through the filter of my faith in God and obedience to the word of God.
This is all relevant to my thoughts this week as I ponder whether I should break the Gad(d)about up into pieces or topics. That may still happen down the road if the traffic continues to increase, but for now, this will remain the "blog with many branches," recording the thoughts and musings of a Christian who -- contrary to popular opinions -- still lives in this world.