I Probably Got It From Tim Keller (Or, A Ramble on Plagiarism)

I'm going to re-preach whatever he's saying right now.

I’m going to re-preach whatever he’s saying right now.

My old pastor Mike Erre used to say, “I’ve never had an original idea in my life. I thought I had one once, but then, unsurprisingly I found it in C.S. Lewis.” He was always declaiming the originality of anything he was saying all the while preaching some of the most helpful, creative, biblical sermons I’d ever heard. At first I thought he was just being modest. But as I grew older, read a bit more, and finally had the responsibility of teaching myself, I began to see what he was saying. When it comes to preaching and teaching the Bible or theology, almost everything has been said once before by somebody. I mean, just the other day I was re-reading an old grad-school paper and realized I’d been arguing for something like Calvin’s double-gift theology before I’d ever read a lick of Calvin.

I bring this up simply because I’ve been thinking a bit about the issue of plagiarism lately. Most of us in the internet blogosphere have. In light of the big plagiarism scandal with several of Mark Driscoll’s works either not attributing clearly-demonstrated dependency on the work of others, or just straight lifting passages, the thing was ugly. What’s more, recent reports seem to indicate that the plagiarization of sermons is on the rise. Pastors are just finding sermons online and rereading them, or simply parroting their favorite podcasts, effectively doing the same thing.

Now, in the ramble that follows, I’d simply like to ask some questions and raise some points for consideration when it comes to the issue of “plagiarism” in blogging, writing, and preaching.

First of all, on the alleged rise in plagiarism, in general, I’m not so sure. I mean, the internet has made it easier to access tons of material and do that sort of thing, but when people talk about the recent rise in it, I’m wondering if certain things aren’t being forgotten.

For one thing, we’re more aware of that issue and people are probably paying greater attention now to it. It’s also probably easier to track now than in was before as well. Still, there were plenty of audio tape ministries that probably fed a lot of smaller church pastors with sermons back in the 80s too. Also, we should consider that because of the internet, Evangelical book/celebrity culture, and so forth, more people are hearing, listening, reading, digesting, and regurgitating the same voices. If that’s the case, it’s not unusual that you’re going to hear the same themes repeated in various sermons in various contexts.

Which raises the issue more formally: what counts as plagiarism in various contexts? Let’s be clear that direct quotes from other people that I lift, copy, and then claim credit for seems to be straight-forward plagiarism. Still, there seem to be some gray areas of confusion.

Take the matter of citing your sources in preaching. Now, I’ll admit, I tend to like quoting people in sermons because I want my kids to get a desire to read books, it gives some weight, and it’s force of habit from grad school. Still, do I have to mention Tim Keller every time I talk about a “Christ-centered” reading of the texts even though l learned it from him and Edmund Clowney? Or what if I mention the anti-imperial thrust of a certain Pauline text without citing the N.T. Wright commentary I got it from? That doesn’t sound quite right.

Maybe that’s just a function of the preaching context. When you’re preaching, you may not want to go citing a bunch of names and sources because it seems too cluttered. A sermon is not a lecture is not a seminary paper. It may also be show-offy to the point of distraction. Your point, in any case, is to preach the text, not Wright’s insight into the text. Or again, in the heat of a sermon, you might make a point about a text and forget who said it so you just preach it. What if you have in the general course of study preparation,  write it down, and completely forget that you originally heard that in a sermon by a popular preacher last year? Is that plagiarism, stumbling on the same insight, or a simple memory failure?

Of course, a single sermon point might be one thing, but what about a whole sermon structure? For instance, I’ve found myself in situations where I hear a preacher exposit a text in a manner that I find compelling and I think, “That right there is something I’m going to preach to my students.” It almost seems wrong to preach it any other way because the outline works so well. In the few times I have found that I’m following someone else’ basic outline, I think at that point it’s appropriate to say something along the lines of “Joe So-and-So gave me the premise of the sermon I’m preaching this to you today”, or something even more clear. Now, to be honest, I don’t think this should happen very much because it could become a habit you don’t want to fall into. Generally speaking, even when you’re using others’ insights into the texts, you need to be prayerfully working on applying them to your own context anyways. Joe doesn’t know your people and wasn’t called to your church, you were.

More briefly, how do those considerations play out in writing? It seems that a number of those points above would call for some sort of explicit reference. But what about general, widespread concepts, or biblical truths? I’m thinking, for instance, of C.S. Lewis’ analogies in Mere Christianity and his explication of the difference between begetting and making in his section on the Trinity. Lewis got most of that from Athanasius and the other Fathers, but he doesn’t do much crediting at all. Is it plagiarism to use the same analogy without referencing them, or just prudence in not wanting to get bogged down even in the writing format? At that point I’m not so sure. Maybe there’s a point when an explanation, or articulation of a text has become the common inheritance of the Christian tradition such that specifying its origin becomes pointless, especially when that’s not necessarily where you first heard the point.

At this point it seems prudent to end my ramblings. I suppose it makes sense at this point to issue my own version of my pastor’s disclaimer: if you find me saying anything of intelligence, worth, truth, or edification that I don’t cite outright, just assume I got it from Tim Keller. Beyond that, for other pastors, the best concrete advice I have is do your best to be honest. If you’re worried about a certain instance, err on the side of caution and cite it.

If you have any insights to offer on the subject, please chime in below. This was as much a comment as an invitation to further discussion.

Soli Deo Gloria 

Two Reformedish Writers to Keep An Eye On

Like most other bloggers, I read some bloggers on a regular basis, and, of course, being Reformedish, have a predilection for reading other Reformedish bloggers. Many of them are the well-known guys like Kevin DeYoung or Justin Taylor at The Gospel Coalition, or Matthew Lee Anderson and the crew at Mere Orthodoxy. Their names are familiar and merits well-attested. I wanted to take a moment to point out a couple of other writers that, while they’re better known than I am (for good reason), you may not have heard of: Andrew Wilson and Alastair Roberts.

I ran across their work both in the last couple of months and they’ve quickly become must-read writers for me. I’ll be straight to the point and say I think they should be for you as well.

andrew wilsonAndrew Wilson: Wilson is a preacher, author, and Ph.D. student out in the UK. He’s written a fabulous little apologetic book entitled “If God, Then What?” that someone has described as Tim Keller content with Donald Miller style. I’d happily hand this out to any of my skeptical or questioning friends and students. While I’d love for you to go pick up the book, you can read his stuff for free over at thinktheology.co.uk. It’s a writing collective with other, very good, authors, but I make sure to read his posts every time they come up. Wilson’s got a marvelous way of making very complicated issues seem quite simple, all the while engaging in very difficult discussions. Coming from a ‘Reformedish’ perspective, he’s comfortable discussing biblical studies, theology, or cultural observation.  He’s also got a knack for irenic polemics, winsomely engaging those whom he criticizes with integrity and grace. I’d encourage you to check out these sample pieces:

Why I Don’t Hate the Word ‘Inerrancy

‘Hunger Games and Dystopia

Also, bonus treat, you can watch Andrew Wilson disussing the issue of homosexuality with Rob Bell HERE.

robertsAlastair Roberts: Also out of the UK, Roberts is a Ph.D. student at Durham and is easily one of the most prolific writers I know of. In fact, prolific isn’t quite the word for him. It’s too short. In any case, Roberts is absolutely brilliant. He writes some of the most complete and penetrating pieces of cultural and theological analysis on the web today. While his posts can be quite lengthy, you also know they’ll be exhaustive, considering issues from every angle, asking questions that often go over-looked, and getting to the theological heart of the issue. Like Wilson, he’s comfortable with biblical studies, theology, and cultural criticism. Again, whenever he posts, I make it a point of setting aside time to work through his arguments. While you might find his work at The Calvinist International and elsewhere, you can find him at his own site Alastair’s Adversaria.

I’d encourage you to check out these sample posts:

Rob Bell and Don Draper

Online Discourse, Leadership, Progressive Evangelicalism, and the Value of Critics

Questions and Answers on Homosexuality

Well, that’s about it.

Soli Deo Gloria

My Blog Is Holier Than I Am

arrivalI don’t think I’m an intensely autobiographical writer on this blog. I write with a personal element, of course, but I don’t engage in a lot of existential, self-reflection on here, where I arrive at some personal insight leading to enlightenment that I can share with others. I’ve realized that because of this, I might come off in digital print as a better person than I actually am.

I started thinking about this because I’ve been listening to Paul David Tripp’s book Dangerous Calling, on pastoral ministry, lately and it’s been good. Well, more like “hurts so good” kind of good. At one point, Tripp goes into the problem of pastors feeling like they’ve spiritually-arrived because of various factors like theological knowledge, ministry experience, technical efficiency, or the praise of others. It’s very easy for a pastor who is experiencing some ministry success or getting the praise and thanks of parishioners who only see their public ministry persona, to start believing their own press. People don’t always see the petty thoughts, the fires of pride just stoked by their well-meaning comments (which you shouldn’t necessarily stop, because plenty of pastors do need it), the dozens of shady words uttered away from hearing ears. In any case, it’s pretty easy for a pastor to be blind to their spiritual condition.

Of course, when I started to think about it, this easily applies to bloggers too. It takes little effort to convince yourself that because you can write well, communicate gospel truths effectively, and happen to have gotten a few breaks as a writer, that you’ve arrived. As the positive comments, shares, or tweets start up, you can quickly start thinking “Yeah, that really was a good post. Man, I really did help people. I do deserve this attention. How nice is it that people are noticing the great work I’m doing?” You might not even think this consciously, but that sense of pride and accomplishment creeps in and starts to rob your sense of gratitude toward the God of grace who called you and gave you whatever gifts and accomplishments you have.

I know that I’ve had to catch myself recently in this. I’ve caught a couple of breaks here and there (big for me, but still, it’s not like I’m a big deal), little bits of God’s grace towards me, and it’s amazing how quickly that can start turning into the sense of having arrived. Write a few posts paraphrasing Calvin and other smart people, get some nice feedback, and you start to feel like you earned it–like those insights are signs of deep wisdom and spiritual maturity. I can fool myself into thinking that because I know what to say about growing in sanctification, or engaging graceful polemics, I’m actually good at those things.

The funny thing is that this kind of pride is so wily, it can even apply to those bloggers who make a regular habit of ‘vulnerability’ and honesty about their weaknesses and foibles. Kinda reminds my of this mewithoutyou song, “WOLF AM I! (AND SHADOW)” where Aaron Weiss sings:

Oh, there I go showing off again.
Self-impressed by how well I can put myself down…
and there I go again, to the next further removed
level of that same exact feigned humility, and this
for me goes on and on to the point of nausea.

Even ‘humble’ self-confession can become a substitute for actual brokenness and repentance over sin.  Being ‘confessional’ in a setting like this can easily become an opportunity of self-aggrandizement and a way of reinforcing your false sense of spiritual maturity. I won’t even try to say that there isn’t a level at which that’s at work in this post itself. I wouldn’t put that past me.

That said, I figured it was worth the risk of sharing this little reflection in digital-print as a caution to a few people:

  1. Readers – If you’ve got particular writers you look up to for their spiritual depth, insight, and knowledge, don’t forget they’re just as sinful and in need of grace as anybody else. Even if they’re particularly gifted in talking about holiness and grace.
  2. Other Bloggers – Don’t be suckered into believing your own press. You might have tons of great readers, have writing successes, gotten pretty good at your craft, and actually are blessing people through your work. Don’t for a minute forget that you’re only used because God is gracious, not because you are entitled to it, or have somehow ‘nailed’ it. Constantly bring your work before Jesus and ask him to keep you honest and humble, even in the face of your writing successes.
  3. Me – I mean, I’m the one writing this, but it’s just too easy and too important to forget. As spiritual as my blog might read at times, it’s probably holier than I am.

Well, that’s it for now.

Soli Deo Gloria

One Year of Writing: A Few Reflections

yearAbout a year ago, I returned home from summer retreat with my students to find out that my wife had started a blog. “Hmm” thought I. Coming after a few months of mulling over whether to start one myself, I took it as the sign I was looking for. And so my little Reformedish blog started. Roughly 220 posts later, I’ve realized I don’t quite think I knew what I was getting myself into. I could not have predicted the joy, the stress, surprises, and blessings that have come with setting my hand back to the plough. When my little WordPress anniversary notification popped up, I figured it’s as good a time as any to review and reflect on some things I’m grateful for and lessons I’ve begun to learn through the writing experience.

Writing Can Be Addictive – Early on I had difficulty thinking of things to write. I would sit, ponder, mull over the various ideas I’d had bouncing around in my head during all of the silent years leading up to the blog, but it was still a struggle to crank out a post. Over time, though, the more I wrote, the more I realized I wanted to write about everything. Nowadays I find myself writing maybe a third of the ideas that come into my head, or commenting on a fraction of the passages I find worth interacting with. I’ll tell myself I’ll take it easy one week, only to find myself writing a couple of extra surprise articles I didn’t think I had in me. I don’t know that this is always a positive thing, but still, it’s something I’m learning.

Editors Are Great –  One of the great blessings of the last year has been coming on staff over at Christ and Pop Culture. They introduced me to the world of writing with an editor. A good editor will save you from yourself at your worst moments as a writer and encourage your best. I’ve been sharpened by their input, corrections, and averted a couple of train-wrecks. Actually, it’s not just editors, but a writing community in general helps if you can get it. That’s one of the reasons I’ve loved writing with the crew over at CaPC–it’s really a collaborative effort. Also, the two or three guest pieces I’ve had over at Mere Orthodoxy have been some of the most helpful I’ve had as a writer. Matthew Lee Anderson is a brutal, savage man who will rip apart your work in the best way possible.

Projects Are Good – I started my Calvin Comments project a couple of months ago and it’s been a beneficial discipline for me. Setting a long-term writing project helps you develop your attention-span as a writer, strengthening your ability to focus in a a subject or thinker in order to penetrate deeper than the easy, initial observations.

Popularity Is Unpredictable – There are occasionally times when I’ve had a sense that a piece would do well and I’ve been right. For the most part, I’ve been totally surprised by the reactions/non-reactions I’ve seen to various pieces. The ones I work hardest on, love dearest, and pour the most of myself into, might get a yawn, while the quickie-post is my biggest day of the week. Go figure.

Write Clearly and Expect to Be Misread – I’ve had a few experiences online that have taught me you need to write clearly on the internet. You should write clearly in general, but people’s reading habits online can be kind of sloppy. We skim, read bold sections, italics, and the title and cobble together a general idea of the argument. Because of that, it’s best to set out your arguments, if you’re making an argument, as cleanly and unmistakably as possible. You also should expect some people to still not understand what you’re saying. It’s just a thing. I’m realizing that if you can’t take that, you’ll never survive.

This Too Shall Pass – In a few days, everything will be forgotten. This applies both to the praise and the controversy. By the grace of God, I’ve had a few pieces do surprisingly well. That’s cool for a day or two. Don’t get too elated, though. It’ll be forgotten quickly, as the internet rolls on. On the other hand, I’ve managed to get plunged into a couple of full-blown, this-is-a-real-thing, interwebs brouhahas. These were fairly unpleasant. One in particular landed me at the center of some uncomfortable attention, misunderstandings, and a whole lot of stress. But, as I found out, this too passed and was forgotten in short order. It’s very important to mind every word you write, for you will give an account one day to the Lord, but still, if you don’t make it a habit of being dip, it’ll be okay. Hopefully.

Idolatry Is Still Stupid – Getting your sense of identity and self from writing is, like every other form of idolatry, very stupid. It’s also very easy to fall into. Time and time again I’ve had to remind myself that good page-views or bad page-views do not determine my worth or standing as a child of God. If I live for the affirmation of good comments and shares, it inevitably won’t be enough, or the negative criticisms I receive will be devastating. No, before I’m a writer, I must reckon myself a child of God. Any other approach is spiritual folly.

God is Unpredictably Kind (Again) – I’ve always known God is unreasonably kind, but in the last year, he has surprised me with a number blessings I don’t deserve through the writing process. In the last few months he gave me the opportunity to: go to a couple of conferences I never would have gone to; meet some very kind people I never would have met otherwise; have the privilege of writing for websites I never would have imagined ever being noticed by; and rediscover a passion I’d let lie dormant for a number of years. I don’t know what the next year of writing holds, but I am so grateful for the year he’s given me so far. Here’s hoping the next one’s just as fun.

Finally, not that I’ve accomplished some big thing, but to all those who’ve played a part in this, whether reading, praying, commenting, or just generally supporting me: Thank you. For what it’s worth, It’s been big for me, so thanks for being a part of it.

Of course, as always, any and all glory ultimately is God’s alone.

Soli Deo Gloria

C.S. Lewis and Pascal on the Problem of “Being Original”

One of my favorite Frenchmen.

One of my favorite Frenchmen.

I’ll admit, I suffer from creative constipation from time to time. You know what I’m talking about: feeling like you want to write, you have to write, but you simply can’t. I had a severe bout of it for a few years between my last blog, back in the Myspace days, and starting this one. I had a lot of fun with my old blog until I started reading good writers and deep thinkers. At that point I realized most of what I had to say had already been said by someone smarter, funnier, wiser, and generally in every way better than I ever could. (90% of the time it was C.S. Lewis.) With that, I kind of lost my will to write. It’s not so much that I didn’t like writing, but that I had trouble seeing the point–I didn’t feel like I had anything to say. I’d be surprised if I’m the only one who’s been troubled by that thought.

Two of my intellectual and literary heroes have some wisdom for those of us struggling with the problem of “being original”:

Let no one say I have said nothing new; the arrangement of the material is new. In playing tennis both players play the same ball, but one plays it better. –Blaise Pascal, Pensees

Even in social life, you will never make a good impression on other people until you stop thinking about what sort of impression you are making. Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it. –C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity (IV, 11)

Pascal was writing an apologetic for the Christian faith. He readily acknowledged that the content, the point, the truth of what he was speaking was nothing new. In fact, that was the point–he was trying to convince his skeptical, intellectual friends to re-engage, to accept the very old truth of Christianity. At the same time his apologetic method, his style, the questions he asked, were different, and “original” in that sense. He had produced a new “arrangement” of the material.

Lewis makes the same point with even less of an emphasis on being consciously original. He simply advises that we ought to “try and tell the truth” as best we know how and the odds are, given our unique wiring and design, it will end up being original. In fact, that’s one of the interesting things I’ve come to see about Lewis himself.

The first time I read Mere Christianity I thought it was amazing simply because it was so new–Lewis was pointing me to insights and truths I had never encountered, in ways I couldn’t have imagined for myself. As the years past, though, the more theology I read I came to recognize a great deal of other authors, thinkers, theologians, and presentations peeking through the edges of what Lewis was doing. Lewis’ originality lay not so much in the newness of his ideas–he would have denied any originality for himself at that point–but, like Pascal, in his peculiar talent at making the old seem new and the difficult, accessible to the men and women of his own day. He didn’t do it by changing anything for them, but rather by both listening and speaking to them.

If you’re having trouble “being original”, take a lesson from Pascal and Lewis: find something you believe in, a truth you’re passionate about and strive to communicate it as best you can to those around you. If you do that, originality will take care of itself.

Soli Deo Gloria

Quick-Blog #4 – Mark Driscoll and Rob Bell…(Or, Some Learnings on Blogging)

Well, I’ve been blogging for nearly 3 months now and it’s been an interesting experience so far. Writing out some of my thoughts, re-learning how to craft a sentence for print, rather than preaching, and trying out arguments I’ve previously only sketched out in my head has given me some real joy. It’s also been a learning experience, so I thought I’d share a few of the things I’ve been finding out about myself and the craft of blogging general, in no particular order:

Finding your own style is hard. I had read this before, and I’ve thought about this issue quite a bit, but still, it’s been amazing to see how hard it really is. I still don’t know what my “voice” is. Half the time I’m just trying not to botch the English language too much, let alone find my own, unique way of expressing myself. I think a lot about C.S. Lewis’ comments in Mere Christianity about the people who struggle to be original–that the most original people were those who were simply trying to speak the truth as best they could without bothering too much about how original they are.

I’m going to start tagging all of my articles with either Rob Bell or Mark Driscoll. Seriously, names drive searches and views. I wrote one post just quoting N.T. Wright on penal substitutionary atonement and it was my most popular post to date. Seriously, just quotes and a couple of comments. It still gets hits off of random searches. On the other hand, my piece on the doctrine of Impassibility, one that I seriously put some time into…meh, not so much.  Still, I can see how easy it’d be to get sucked into the attack and critique game simply by picking big names and going after them. I’m sure I’ll end up criticizing a popular figure at some point on this blog, but I pray I never do it just to drive up views.

Be careful who you write about. I recently included my wife in a discussion of a controversial theological conversation and after the post hit, I realized that somebody could potentially read it the wrong way, comment rudely and then things would get, well–not pretty. From now on, controversy + family = no.

Writing is vulnerable. As a rule, I care way too much about what people think of me. By blogging, I’m taking my thoughts, my words, my creation and placing out there for all to see and judge. It’s hilariously easy for me to get wrapped up in whether or not people “like” my posts, write encouraging or attacking comments. If I’ve learned nothing else, it’ll be to be more sensitive to others whose blogs I’m commenting on. It’s fine to disagree, but I gotta remember that there’s someone on the other end of the article.

I have so much time to pray. Let’s be honest, if you can blog, you can pray. It’s as simple as that.

I need grace, so much grace. God has an ability to reveal my sin to me in just about any situation. Blogging is no different, apparently. My insecurities, pride, weakness, sin-driven anxieties have come out to play in some of the most surprising ways through this blog. Thankfully where sin abounds, grace abounds all the more. God has come to meet me, to comfort, correct, and work with me in this in a number of very fun and humbling ways.

There’s probably more, but this is supposed to be a quick-blog. I look forward to more blogging and more learning in the coming months.

Soli Deo Gloria

Confessions

I have a confession to make: this is not my first blog. Back in the days when MySpace wasn’t just the punchline to jokes about irrelevance (Irony!), I blogged fairly regularly on faith in the MySpace blog forum. It was a formative experience for me. I was just a 19-year old who knew next to nothing, but for some reason I was getting read. I met a lot of great people and great writers through that blog, some of whom I still keep in touch with. I learned a lot about respectful dialogue with people from various worldviews as well as differing tribes within Christianity. It was a great part of my spiritual and theological development in college that I look back on with much fondness.

At the same time, I’m glad it died.

the rise and fall of my blog

For a while was going well; I was posting on a regular basis, once or twice a week as my school schedule allowed. My blogs were being read and regularly ranked in the top 10 of the Religion and Spirituality section on MySpace in terms of views and comments. (I know that’s not much, but it was pretty good for a 19-year-old with a brain full of mush.) At a certain point though, I began to notice that the posts were slowing down until I eventually found myself unable to write anymore. I mean, I could write, but I couldn’t find the will to write. When I stepped back to think about my writer’s block, I realized that it set in about the time that I started to do serious theological reading. While I have always been a reader, I had not starting reading books relating to Christian theology until my college years, and even then I didn’t start reading what I would call “serious” theology until my last year.

In looking back on the experience, I’ve realized that one thing that came with reading, growing, and learning is that I began to learn how much I had left to read, grow, and learn. I knew next to nothing. I wasn’t even aware of how much I didn’t know. I dare say I’m still just scratching the surface of my ignorance. At the time I came to realize that most of what I could say or write had been said and written long before I started typing by men and women with greater depth, insight, and skill than myself. It was a humbling experience.

In realizing this, I also recognized one my main motivations for blogging: I had been captivated by the feeling of saying something novel and being applauded for it. I loved the feeling of writing something and getting “likes”, seeing comments engaging my thoughts as if they were important insights, and getting acclaim for it. Of course this wasn’t my only motive. I am a natural teacher. I like sharing thoughts. At that point though, the love of being heard was novel and captivating. I don’t say that this is not a temptation even now–it is. At the time it was easy for it to become consuming. When I realized that I wasn’t actually saying anything new, or that people ought to be reading others instead myself, a large portion of my motivation died.

Again, I take this, in many ways, to be a good development. Writing for applause doesn’t do good things for your soul. At the same time, the death of my blog was not an unambiguously positive event. In being humbled, in coming to realize my smallness, relative ignorance and foolishness, I also was struck with a peculiar voicelessness. In coming to know that I knew very little, I fell into a certain of paralysis that robbed me of the ability to try to write about the things that I did know. I just didn’t see the point, or even feel competent to.

the birth pangs

Since that time I have gone to grad school, written a few papers, read a great many books, preached regularly for a couple of years, spent far too much time pontificating in Facebook conversations, and been humbled time and again in various contexts (as I’m sure I’ll continue to be.) In other words, God’s been working on my heart for, knowledge of, and ability to communicate the truth of the Gospel. I’m in a better spot in that respect than I was a few years ago.  After prayer, deliberation, and counsel, I came to the decision to start blogging again.

Surprisingly, this has not been an easy one. For the amount of time that I’ve spent in online forums expressing myself, discussing, debating, as well as preaching on a regular basis, coming to the point of committing my thoughts to print in an intentional and sustained fashion has felt daunting. Temporary disengagement from an activity can become habit that leads to the eventual atrophy of the talents or will required to participate in it. This is true, I am finding, in nearly all areas of life. There’s a part of me that still asks much as I did a few years ago, “Why write? There are much smarter and more valuable things that have already said by more capable writers than myself?”

the hope

I’ve been asking myself this question for a bit and, for the most part, I have not really had any good reasons other than a basic sense that I ought to be writing. It was only until a friend of mine gave me some good advice in personal correspondence that I have been able arrive at any sort of conclusion. In discussing the issue, my friend wrote, “I would say that you should write as a discipline for yourself. If others want to participate in that, awesome, but the goal should be developing to skill of creatively communicating what truths the Lord has revealed. That is, as you know, the task of a theologian.”

This is what I want to be the heart behind my writing. I want it to be an act of discipleship and obedience to my covenant Lord; another area in which to grow in humility and grace; a means by which I can continue to grow in the Gospel of Jesus Christ and share it with others according to the gifts and abilities God has given me; another area of my life in which I can strive to glorify God and enjoy him even now in this life.

This is my hope and my prayer.