Blog Rock

I used to have such interesting debates on the internet. Sure, they often became contentious and descended into personal attacks. But they were interesting.

Then I grew up. 

Now I'm so stinkin' afraid of offending anyone I can't tell anyone what I believe or think without great anxiety.

No, it's worse than that. Not only can't I tell anyone what I believe or think, now even merely considering issues which are highly charged brings to my mind the faces and words of countless relatives, friends, and acquaintances who would think ill of me for misapprehending or dismissing a point about which they feel strongly.

Yet I have this blog, and every now and then I work up the gumption to write something on it. But who wants to read a blog where the person never says anything that could be disagreed with or thought ignorant? I don't, at least. 

Talking with my wife this morning, I compared my predicament to reading a blog written by a rock. Nobody's ever offended by rocks. If you've ever heard a rock give a controversial opinion or state an unpopular idea, you're out of your mind. Rocks don't talk. But rocks don't blog either, and even if they did nobody would read their blogs.

Rock: Day #1 - still sitting here. 

Rock: Day #2 - still sitting here.

Rock: Day #3 - still... sitting... right here.

Rock: Day #4 - someone stepped on me! I wobbled a bit, now I'm just sitting here again.

And so it would go. And no one would read that blog.

But what about family and friends and acquaintances? What about current and potential future employers who can Google your name? What about a possible future dictatorial, totalitarian, repressive regime? There are endless ways what you say on the internet could come back to haunt you.

Are any of those good reasons to not form, hold to, or communicate opinions, though?

The younger me would be disgusted at the thought, and often was when he encountered it. That Garrett railed against cowards and flatterers and wishy-washy people who he felt were spineless equivocators. Whatever happened to that guy?

Like I say - growing up happened. Or did it? 

Read a guy like Matt Walsh. That guy has guts. He ponders, he forms opinions. He has convictions and opinions and (gasp) he communicates them! 

That could be me. I used to be like Matt Walsh. And when I was, there was an indescribable confidence and self-respect in my possession which enabled me to tell you where I stood on issues and questions. There was a boldness and a firmness of resolve. My thoughts and beliefs mattered to me. My evaluations of things were quick and measured. And my faith informed all my contemplation and communication. But it wasn't enough for me to develop my own views on things. I wanted to influence you. I wanted to draw you into a consideration of deep and meaningful questions, to provoke you to live on purpose, understanding the matters at hand. 

So again, what happened?

Well, for starters, a lot of my bold conversation ticked people off. Who did I think I was to have all these views on things? Only someone with delusions of grandeur would dare to grapple with big issues and do so with authority or confidence.

But that's just it. How would the great men of history have done anything worthwhile if they had resigned themselves to quiet, mindless, vacillating? Nothing great or significant would ever have happened in the history of mankind if all men were content with mediocrity and blandness of ideas.

So who cares if someone disagrees with or is offended by what you say? Fear of being ostracized isn't a good enough reason to swear off having, or stating, your views. And, quite honestly, people need to not be so easily offended. 

The Search for a Church

Next month marks one year since my family moved to Sidney, Montana. I suppose it's about time for us to find a home church here.

Don't misunderstand me, we've tried to find a church. As Christians, my wife and I know the Bible says "Do not neglect the assembling of yourselves together" (Hebrews 10:25). And besides just not wanting to disobey a command of the Scriptures, we sincerely do want to belong to a community of believers again.

Before we moved to Montana three years ago, we were very much involved in a seeker-friendly church in Hillsboro, Ohio. Lauren and I both enjoyed our small groups, and I helped out with multimedia, building slideshows for Sunday morning services and running them. When we moved to Glendive, we again got involved in a local church and built relationships, though not as much as back in Ohio due to living half hour away from our church as opposed to up the block.

Since moving to Sidney, we've visited three local churches, attending one of them for several weeks. We just haven't felt "comfortable" with any of our options. 

And I cringe to use that word - "comfortable." Every time Lauren and I discuss the churches in Sidney, I pause before using that word. The Christian life isn't about comfort, is it? Yes and no. It is and it isn't.

If what makes you comfortable is wickedness and self-indulgence, then pursuing comfort is going to interfere with rather than facilitate the righteous life God has called you to in Christ Jesus. If, on the other hand, spiritual torpor and exalting human philosophy and opinion and tradition over God's Word makes you spiritually uncomfortable, it can be 'OK' to let your discomfort be important to you.

But what happens when you're in a town where you don't feel comfortable attending any of the local churches, but you also don't feel comfortable staying home? 

There's the third option of expanding your search radius and attending a more distant church you feel comfortable with, and we certainly have done that before. Indeed, in Ohio we drove an hour each way for a while to attend our seeker-friendly church in Hillsboro, and in Glendive we had no choice but to drive since we were living in the countryside, a half an hour's drive from any church. But I don't feel particularly "comfortable" with commuting long distance to attend a church. The reason being simple - the longer the commute to a church, the harder it is to get involved in a meaningful way in the lives of your fellow believers, which seems, after all, like one of the major reasons to be part of a church in the first place.

If you drive a long way to attend a church you like, but you're not really able to get involved in the lives of the believers there, why are you going? To hear the preaching? There are podcasts galore for that. To check a box legalistically, marking off attendance for the sake of attendance? That seems worse than worthless.

Our three options are each unsuitable and "uncomfortable." So what do we do? That question has been plaguing me for the past year.

To further complicate matters, my schedule for work has me working every other Sunday. And with five young children, my wife isn't exactly keen on visiting churches without me. If our kiddos are feeling ornery and not particularly obedient on a Sunday where she attends and I'm not there, the potential for mayhem and embarrassment is very real. But attending every other week, or visiting new churches every other week - it definitely slows the process down.