Focus on the Raisin, Grasshopper [Guest Post from Jennifer Luitwieler]

Thanks for stopping by. All the articles in this series can be found by clicking the #4Bloggers tab above. Don’t miss new contribution by a host of talented people all of March and April…get the RSS feed or feedburner email delivery. (The icons are over yonder to the right.)

I’m so happy that Jennifer Luitwieler (a.k.a. JLu <JAY-loo>) is a part of this series. Enjoy her contribution, ’cause it has shiny, raisiny goodness!

Focus on the Raisin, Grasshopper

I can’t be the only blogger who busies her little, under-used brain with the large readership of other, far cooler, infinitely more talented blog-keepers out there. On any given day, I’m like a newborn baby, at the mercy of unsophisticated muscles, clicking link after distracting link. Every flash in my periphery forces a jerky turn of my head: Oooh! Shiny!

Just last week, I dragged another writer down my little rabbit hole, concerning myself with a third writer’s blog, a huge machine of success. I dashed off emails of indignation. I fretted about my voice and my readership. I was all in a huff about so-and-so; the volume of comments, the internet buzz about the writing, the name-dropping. My value, in my eyes, dropped lower and lower and lower.

Then, I remembered the raisin.

As young, dumb parents, we lived according the prophets as written in What To Expect Your Baby’s First Year. They promised that our delightful child prodigy would be able to focus on a raisin. Our child, genius that she was—and is— did not disappoint. She focused the heck out of that raisin. I mean that kid held the shriveled fruit in her bright, blue-eyed gaze with laser focus. She saw that raisin and she knew that raisin.

A newborn baby, sweet little mewling blob, cannot control her eyes or arms. She is at the mercy of her reflexes, guided by little more than hunger and comfort. But as she grows, she develops. Synapses fire, allowing her to do new things, like focus on a raisin. Make no mistake, it is hard to focus on a raisin, yo.

When I dragged my friend into my blogger drama, I lacked laser-raisin-ninja focus. Let’s face it: Raisins are kinda “meh” in the midst of so many LOLcats. Instead of concentrating on developing the readership we DO have, the voice we CAN use, we fiddle around with a sort of blogger’s performance continuum.

It starts with hits and includes such esoteric measurables as readership, click-throughs, and shares. We count subscribers with the fervor of a money lender. We click REFRESH like an addict until our fingers bleed, craving the warm buzz of recognition. The knowledge that we are being read (or not) can provide either an overblown sense of self importance or a slightly pleasurable self-loathing. We bow to the arbitrary curve of the almighty Googlestats bell.

Truth is, my faith life is not much different. I am easily distracted by things that don’t matter, drawn into endless (pointless) debates, fretting over my importance in the larger Kingdom. I begin my prayer time anticipating a relational communique; before too long, I’m thinking, “I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer.” Instead of proudly using the gifts He’s given me, I worry about how others are using theirs.

Fortunately, my Master has a ton of patience and a generous sense of humor. Besides, he put a developing brain in my thick skull, and a softening heart in my core. Paying attention to the raisin, the seemingly boring things like discipline, grace, and faith pays dividends in my faith, in my writing, and in my relationships. It’s not sexy. It’s not always fun, but the raisin is power, baby. The raisin is power. •

Jennifer Luitwieler wrangles The Dog, a cat and 3 perfect angels who adore her and find her to be the best homeschool teacher ever in the universe. When she is not filling their spongelike brains with limitless knowledge, she wrangles ideas into sentences with an imaginary golden lasso. (Of course it’s imaginary. No one has a real golden lasso.) She writes on crafts and sports in monthly columns. Her first book, “Run With Me: An Accidental Runner and the Power of the Poo,” was released in 2011. You can find her at http://jenniferluitwieler.com, on twitter @jenluit and Facebook.com/jenluitwieler

5 Ways Blogging is Like a Mistress (for a writer)


 

(click for photo attribution)

 

WARNING: The following contains dark humor.

I know something about mistresses. My dad had one.

As a writer, a blog can be just like a mistress for me. Here’s why:

1. Stroking. The instant gratification that comes from being heard with such ease (blogging) is the simple sticky honey trap for a person of words, like me.

2. Quick fix over Commitment? Sure, baby. Pounding out 80,000 words grows wearisome. Why not just pop out 800, for a quick fix? Sometimes, I ditch the old ball & chain writing project for a bit of Miss Right Now (blogging). Sometimes my dreams suffer for it.

3. On-the-fly modification. Meeting up with a mistress (my blog) can be exciting because not only can I be impetuous, but I can modify a lot to my liking whenever I please. I switch things up for added interest, or improvement.  But, ink on paper…I’m married to it.

4. Familiarity breeds contempt. There’s nothing like living with your words to make them frustrating and lack-luster. Months on end of book project writing can just kill the romance, and lead to self-loathing at my own impotence. However, a short, hot rendezvous (a few hours) is the most I spend on any post. Hey, blog, don’t let me catch you leaving your toothbrush here, or it’s sayonara.

5. Adventure! Weekend trysts to exotic spots? Yes, please! I don’t have to be an expert when blogging. I can cover exciting, far-flung topics with just a few hours of pesky research.

My dad married his mistress, eventually. He still fought with wife #1 (my mom) all the time–but with the new wife, it was a new life of eggshell walking and apologizing. He probably didn’t anticipate this at the mistress stage.

I don’t think I want the same thing in terms of my writing. I have to keep blogging in check. The words, “Get back, you vile temptress!” comes to mind, until I realize that this would make it sound like it wasn’t my fault. But, it is.

Has your blog ever been like a “mistress” for you? In what ways?

And please share your insights.
What helps you stay on track with longer writing projects?

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Blogging as Spiritual Journal

click for photo attribution

Today’s post comes from Doug Jackson. Professor Jackson is a bona fide man of letters and a teacher of spiritual formation. He also blogs. He’s not the kind of expert that touts his CV. Rather, he’s a man acquainted with his humanity in a way the endears you to him right off, and a wisdom that can change you.

Blogging as Spiritual Journal
Doug Jackson

“For I am the sort of man,” Augustine once declared, “who writes because he has made progress, and who makes progress – by writing.”

Christian bloggers should rework Jane Austen’s dictum, “Write what you know,” and state it as follows: Write until you know. If we understand blogging as a process of self-discovery and even of self-formation, we may tread this track with greater gratitude and greater care.

Gratitude and care: Keeping an internal diary has long been seen as a spiritual discipline, from Augustine’s Confessions to Wesley’s journals to Mother Teresa’s recently published papers. The Internet tweaks this ancient practice by offering the perilous privilege of publication.

I say privilege because blogging encourages journaling by offering the incitement of instant readership. Journaling has never been one of my own spiritual practices because I am too much of a writer (or perhaps too little of a Christian) to stand the sound of one keyboard clattering. Writers write to be read, and while perhaps saints do not, most writers are at best saints-in-process. Tradition tells us that Abba John the Dwarf, at Abba Pambo’s direction, watered a stick every day for three years until it burst forth in fruit. I, however, simply will not chase the dead stick of writing if there is not a carrot of being read dangling somewhere on the end of it. George Bernanos’ country priest begins his Diary with the promise that after twelve months he will use it for kindling; by the end of the first chapter he amends it to “I’ll stuff it all away in a drawer to re-read it later with a clear mind.”

So blogging offers an incredible privilege: Writers who in the very recent past would have no outlet for their work can now find instant publication – and instant motivation. Anne Lamott notes the value of this kind of work:

I just try to warn people who hope to get published that publication is not all it is cracked up to be. But writing is. Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises. That thing you had to force yourself to do – the act of writing – turns out to be the best part. It’s like discovering that while you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony. The act of writing turns out to be its own reward.

 

But the privilege comes laced with peril: the deadly sin of wrath.

Blogs are self-edited and self-published. I can say whatever I want. Blogs are also released to cyber-space: I can’t unsay anything, even if I want to. This makes a blog a great place to get angry, but a poor place to repent. When I played football we often drilled using foam shields known as “air bags.” I noticed that guys who avoided physical contact at all costs suddenly went Jack Lambert on us during these sessions. We dubbed such selective warriors “Air Bag All Americans.” A blog can be a playground for Air Bag Martyrs who speak boldly from the behind the bunker of their firewalls.

But wrath is a deadly sin for a reason. Jesus equated insults with murder. People often ask me, “Does that mean calling someone a jerk is just as bad as killing him?” My standard reply is, “Not to him.”

Which is largely the point and takes us back to blogging as self-discovery: My anger may or may not harm my targets (with a readership like mine, probably not), but it tells me something about me. “The pleasure of anger,” explains C. S. Lewis, “the gnawing attraction which makes one return again and again to its theme — lies, I believe, in the fact that one feels entirely righteous oneself only when one is angry.

Then the other person is pure black, and you are pure white.” Ranting blogs probably reveal very little about my airbag victims, but they should tell me something about the state of my own soul.

And then there’s the temptation of attention: Wrath translates to readership because everyone loves the vicarious thrill of an Internet takedown. If we write to be read, we must take care lest we automatically write what people like to read. Donald Kaul once closed a review of Robert James Waller’s chick-lit romance “The Bridges of Madison County” by admitting, “I still don’t know what Waller has, but if I thought it was contagious, I’d kiss him.” If cyber-sneering and digital drive-by’s mean viral results, we’re too quick to kiss – well, whatever needs kissing.

Harry Farra’s “Little Monk” begins keeping a journal early in his vows, and later finds it to be “a valuable record of a soul tamed by God.” Toward the close of the book, he abandons the volume to the care of a young woman. She shares it with her wayward son who finds that it changes his heart. Perhaps that should be the goal of the believing blogger: the charism of being overheard. An old joke says, “Live in such a way that you would not be afraid to sell your parrot to the town gossip.” I would amend it to: Blog in such a way that you would not fear to have your words read by a seeking soul in danger, one whom you may never meet.

I write these words as one more unknown note in the mighty symphony (or cacophony) of the blogosphere. My URL does not appear on big-time blog rolls. No one has contacted me to offer a book deal. Christian universities do not invite me to speak. But I don’t think I need the caffeine of fame (though, quite honestly, I’ll take it if it comes); what I need is the liturgy of writing. And who knows – maybe that is what someone who reads my blog needs as well.•

•

After twenty-five years as a pastor, Doug Jackson finally made it to Tarshish as an assistant professor in the Logsdon Seminary program of the South Texas School of Christian Studies in Corpus Christi, where he teaches spiritual formation, pastoral ministry, and Greek. In addition to his teaching, Doug writes “Sermoneutics,” a weekly devotional and sermon-starter blog based on the Revised Common Lectionary: http://sermoneutics2.blogspot.com/.

Reflections on God [or what happened with the Jesuits, part II]

Natural Sponge (click for image attribution)

For a short bit of background you can read Part I.

Background in one sentence: On March 6th I went to my first all-day, silent, guided prayer retreat held at the Jesuit Center in Wernersville, Pa.
Simply put: I’m hooked, probably for life.
I’m not sure what can rival what happens when I finally unplug, quiet down, and let God be God. This was that sort of time.

In the morning, our group gathered for a brief preparation to guide our personal prayer time. Sr. Maria McCoy shared some thoughts and gave 2 rather simple but profound analogies for God and God’s presence. As we entered an extended time of silence and prayer, these (theological, and ontological) ideas about God were to pervade our experience. And did they ever!

Spiritual Guidance Tip: To get a snatch of the experience yourself, try this: Block off 20 minutes, or more if you can, for prayer. Then, read the following 2 analogies and take them with your into your time. Talk with God about them. See what happens.

She kicked it off like this, “There was once a baby fish…”

I thought, “I don’t care who you are lady, but anybody who starts a pensive day of prayer like that is a kindred spirit!”

The rest went something like this:

There was once a baby fish, who went to his mother and said, “What is water and where is it? I’m so very thirsty, and I think if I don’t find some water soon, I will die.” Her mother said, “Water is all around you. Sometimes you can’t even notice it, because it’s so close and so real.”

God is like water and we are his fish. God is real and ever-present. There is nowhere where God is not. As we swim about, we may not be able to feel God’s presence or see the boundaries of God. We cannot see these boundaries, because God has no boundaries. God continues. God is.

And then another one something like this…

Think of an ocean sponge. Think of an ocean sponge where it is supposed to be…deep in an ocean. The sponge is surrounded by water. But, the sponge is full. Full of that same water too. The water is in, and through, and all around the sponge. You are that sponge, and God is the water. Realize that God, who is your Creator, and everywhere present, is present at the core of who you are. God is the center. God is indeed in, and through, and all around you.

So when sticking to Christian theology, God is omni-benevolent (throughly good) and omnipresent (everywhere present) I pray differently. Sometimes I act more like a dried out sponge, and I forget this basic stuff about God. I forget how this Truth* plays out.

Another amazing gift is that before I went to the retreat, I used the language of water to describe my reason for going (see that part here). I mentioned how physical and spiritual dehydration can, after a while, turn into a kind of lack of thirst–the very opposite of what is most needed. I think refreshing and retreat go together.

When was the last time you noticed your spiritual thirst?

Verses of reflection:

Eph 3:16-19 I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Psalm 139:5-8 You hem me in—behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths {hell}, a you are there.

*Truth capitalized to denote Truth as a Person (God). Found or experienced in relationship more clearly or fully than through propositional statements or systematics.

Top Ten Signs that You Need Renewal

Hi there! If you are new here, please subscribe by email or RSS feed to get new posts (there’s a Connect bar here on the right with cute buttons for that). I post 3 or 4 times per week. That adds up to loads of goodness per fortnight. By the way, I’m so glad you stopped by.

TOMORROW’S POST:
Reflections on God [or what happened with the Jesuits, part II] Click here for Part I.
(click for photo attribution)

Top Ten Signs that You Need Renewal 

1. Observable deficits in enacted Fruit of the Spirit. (i.e. less qualities of love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, and self-control)

2. You find yourself perceiving things others say as personally offensive, or as direct attacks.

3. You are “venting” more online. 

4. You feel unloved.

5. Posting on your blog or being active in social media, or online makes you feel significant. (Accordingly, not getting that sort of instant gratification creates feelings of emptiness or frustration.)

6. You’re writing about your stuff rather than really working through it.

7. Increased tension in your face-to-face relationships, while giving greater significance to internet-based relationships.

8. You struggle with at least one of the “seven deadly sins”: wrath, greed, sloth, pride, lust, envy, and gluttony.

9. You feel spread thin like too little butter pulled across toast. Or you feel toasted, or similar to toast, in any respect.

10. You’re in a creative slump.

If some of these ring true, spiritual refocusing and guidance will create more creative (and general) energy and renewal in your life.

What is your tip off that you need renewal?

Thankfully, some help is near. Guidance is at hand, and it works for non bloggers too! Search the category “blogging” for some helpful articles. Visit again soon, too. More resources are coming.

For personal spiritual guidance (for the courageous), use the contact button to get started (lower right), or to find a retreat center click here.

Beyond this blogging series…is an alliance of committed bloggers to keep Christian blogging a ministry of integrity. Integrity is a word I love, because its literal meaning is wholeness. When we are emotionally and spiritually healthy, we are whole as message-bearers. As people. We lack for nothing.

So, if you enjoy reading or writing blogs, I hope you’ll join in with the interactive community at Facebook.

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