by Charity Erickson
So, Richard Foster and I are fighting.
He doesn’t know this, but we have a long running feud; it has been contentious and bitter and totally one-sided. Ever since everyone and their grandpas started talking about Foster’s Celebration of Discipline, I have been developing a deep-seated resentment against this lovely man and his holy brilliance. “Discipline.” It’s a word I just can’t get over, much less celebrate.
For one already struggling with the old evangelical hero complex, in which I feel the urge to always have to do more, always more, always better, I can’t read Foster without hearing it as something else I’m supposed to add to my already too-long list. And the idea of exerting even more effort in the celebration of something so severe as discipline is dreadful, an extra weight to be hung from an already-too-heavy yoke.
And when there's just so much that's seemingly required, it's overwhelming. My response is to fight against it, or more likely, to just give up. Perhaps I am merely too attached to the lavish comforts of food, drink, and sleep, but it’s much more my style to exercise the spiritual practice of radical self-care, with its promises of holy napping and hearty celebration of chocolate (at least that’s how I do it).
All that said, I decided to put away the bad blood between Brother Richard and myself, and attend his presentation at last week’s Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids, Michigan. The title of his session sounded mysterious and terribly interesting: “The Humiliation of the Word in our Day.” What could that possibly mean?
And as he began to speak, waxing rhapsodic about the weight and the beauty of words, I shed a tear. The power of creation and Christ are bound up in the Word and words themselves--amen, hallelujah!--also, there is something eminently moving about how that man wears a ponytail. “The Word is precious,” he said. “A word poorly spoken demeans us.”
Respect to my nemesis. That’s some good stuff.
I was so on board. But then discussion turned to how, in our day, the “humiliation” of the written and spoken word is achieved. And while I will take away and hold close what Richard Foster said about the value of words, I feel it behooves me to respectfully disagree with what came after.
As I understand it, he finds the proliferation of words through mass media and digital formats to be enacting a kind of inflation in the value of words, causing even a word well spoken to lose its currency. Not only were formats like Twitter and blogs taken to task for being generally mediocre platforms for meaningful communication (too fast, too easy), visual media was characterized as passive and mindless distraction from the stuff of real value--the written word. Television and film were cast merely as means for “checking out” of reality.
The problem with thinking about new media as a distortion or desecration of the true, written word is that it shows disregard for the fact that all things must be read, not just words. Paintings, faces, numbers, noises, the posture of the body in embrace, a precious Polaroid, clever, cutting hashtags, and even ClipArt. (Is that still a thing? Clearly I’m the last person who should be defending technology.) The language of literature is not the only thing we read. Whenever we take information in and work to make sense of it, this is communication, this is “word,” and all creation cries out.
But how can we understand without one to instruct us? This is the real problem. Not the democratization of media--as if such a thing were possible, even online--the real problem with the polyphony of voices populating the electronic ether is that often we fail to understand them, and too often we don’t want to admit that we don’t know how to read them with discernment. We struggle to process information, evaluate sources, and understand the purpose and potential behind this innovation; it’s a library whose card catalogue is written in secret code. But it’s a code we must decipher; we must learn how to find Dickens amongst the penny-dreadfuls. We must learn how to separate the gold from the dross.
It is not the word but rather we who are humiliated when we are forced to grapple with our own illiteracy, even as children are navigating this cryptic library with such ease. And when I say “we,” I mean those those of us who have had the privilege of being equipped with strategies for reading at a high level--we’ve been educated in the Western canon, an education that has not prepared us to deal with the rebirth of the word in the digital medium. We have our own secret code, but it will not get us passage through the strange, new words set before us.
And I recognize I am preaching to the choir (or more likely, the very hip worship team); most of you who have found your way to this site are not internet noobs. But there are two things I want to say in conclusion: first, when people denigrate new media as mere diversion, don’t settle for that judgment; but also, don’t simply write them off as out-of-touch. So: Richard Foster, you’re okay, brother. Again, this is a new literacy issue; he and others of the same mind might make this judgment in completely good faith because they are simply unaware of the kind and quality of media that can be found outside of established institutions, how to find it, and how to use it.
Second, Christian educators--including internet writers, for writers are educators, after all--have a responsibility to think deeply about new media and how we can open this realm to those unfamiliar to it. We must consider how we can teach the necessary techniques that can lead others to engage it in meaningful ways, and how we can produce the kind of work that makes thoughtful engagement worth the time it takes. The word will not be humiliated in our day as long as we are not content with churning out content; there is new life here, in our digitized selves, waiting for us to give it breath.
So let us not close our eyes, ears, or laptops to the Word, wherever it may be found. Words are intercessors, hanging in the space between bodies and Spirit, and sometimes even the internet groans with longing that keystrokes cannot express. But let us not stay silent; if we shut our screens, perhaps the rocks will cry out.
Charity Erickson and her husband live and work together in the north woods of Minnesota. Check out her blog for more of her writing and follow her on Twitter @CharityJill.
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by Ben Howard
Over the winter, my favorite baseball team, the Atlanta Braves, signed free agent center fielder B.J. Upton to a five year contract worth $75 million dollars. It's the biggest contract the Braves have ever given to a free agent. I was a bit hesitant upon hearing the news, after all that is quite a large investment, but Upton has been a solid player over the last few years. He's fast, plays good defense, and has the ability to hit a lot number of home runs. He isn't quite a superstar, but he is only a step or two down from that.
Unfortunately, B.J. Upton has started this season playing terribly. Over the first two months of the Upton had a batting average of .144. That means he got a hit in 14.4% of his at bats. To put that in perspective, his career batting average is .250.
In fact, there's a term in baseball called the Mendoza line which defines incompetent hitting. It's named for a notoriously bad hitter named Mario Mendoza who hit .200 for his career. If you hit below .200, it's essentially impossible for you to be a useful player. Upton was far below that.
But this isn't a story about a player who was once good suddenly becoming terrible, this is a story about slumping. Upton didn't suddenly forget how to play, nor did his skills erode to the point where he was overmatched; he was just in a slump. In fact, this month, he's hitting a relatively robust .234.
So how do you get out of a slump?
Some say it's a matter of confidence. Some say you just need to relax. Others have more interesting and off-the-wall suggestions (if you're brave, look up the term "slumpbuster"). Ultimately though there's no real solution. You're simply in a slump until you're out of it. It's part of the cyclical nature of sports and life in general.
The worst part of a slump is when a player begins to press. If you're unfamiliar with the phrase, pressing is when someone begins to put pressure on themselves to succeed. It typically involves over-thinking processes that were once instinctual. For example a baseball player starts to think about how to swing a bat instead of just swinging, or a basketball player starts to go through the step-by-step process of shooting instead of just shooting. At its worst, it can lead to the "yips" where a player can no longer perform simple actions that they've done for years (i.e. a catcher who's unable to throw the ball back to the pitcher).
I mention all of this because I'm in a slump right now and it feels like I'm pressing. The thoughts that used to come to my head easily are a chore and the words I want to communicate just aren't there. Instead of writing on instinct, I've been....well, I haven't been writing at all.
Since I don't know the best way to break a slump, I'm doing the best I know how and leaning into the curve; trying to overcome my writing slump by writing about it.
I've noticed a curious thing throughout my attempts to break out of this feeling. I've noticed the desire to try and copy myself. When I felt like I couldn't access an authentic version of myself, when I felt like I lost my voice, I would simply try and be the best imitation of myself that I could be. If I couldn't "be myself" then I'd try to "act like myself."
Think about that. Think about what that means.
It means that I thought that there was only one "authentic" version of myself that I needed to be all the time. It means that sometimes I thought I wasn't "me". That's impossible. I'm always me. Every part, every emotion, every happy moment, every sad moment, every moment when I have a voice and every moment when I feel like I've lost it, those are all me.
I'm sure you've heard that people show their true colors when they're angry or when they're sad or when they're afraid. Bullshit. People show their true colors all the time. They are always themselves. Every bit of them is authentically them, even when they're trying to lie and hide it.
But there's something in our psyche that tries to avoid that truth. There's something in our mind that would rather see clean narrative arcs and easily defined personalities. We want to be able to encapsulate people, we want to be able to encapsulate ourselves. For people we say that they're "Thoughtful, reflective and kind" or "Surly, arrogant and rude." For baseball players we tick off their batting average.
Here's the thing that I've learned about being in a slump. Slumps are as much a part of who I am as the peaks. B.J. Upton's performance as a baseball player is not defined by his average, it's defined by all the bits and pieces along the way that go into that computation. You aren't one thing, you are all the things across the spectrum that compose that encapsulated view of yourself.
We limit ourselves and others to the average version of us. We define ourselves against our relative norms, and then we judge ourselves to be lesser when we fall below those norms. Perhaps the best way to break a slump, or to be confident in ourselves, or simply love ourselves (and others) is simply to realize that we are always who we are whether we're slumping or peaking or anywhere in between.
Peace,
Ben
Ben
Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual
living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop
Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can
follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87.
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 |
| Controversy! |
by Ben Howard
So you want to write a controversial blog post, well good for you. That will certainly achieve your twin goals of driving traffic to your site and developing your thriving internet fame.
But what's that you say, you don't have the time or the nuanced worldview to write an interesting, thought-provoking article about an important and often misunderstood aspect of daily human existence? Never fear! Just follow these five easy steps and your blog post will be a mild sub-culture based controversy in no time!
Step #1: Pick Your Controversial Topic
To get a real controversy brewing you'll want to make sure that your topic is a real doozy. There's a certain kind of art to picking a truly controversial blog topic.
First, you want to make sure that you pick a topic that appears to have two equal sides, but one of those sides, preferably the side you'll be arguing on behalf of, needs to be based on a fundamental logical fallacy. The appearance of fairness is an essential quality to a truly controversial post.
Second, you'll want to choose a topic that you're tangentially aware of, but not intimately associated with. If you're a man in your mid to late twenties, perhaps you should try your hand at an unnuanced critique of modern feminism. What if you're a white Christian who's never left the country? Try talking about the essence of Islam. Make sure it's something you can caricature without ever actually engaging.
Step #2: Write With Careless Condescension
Now we come to the content, the beating heart of your intentionally controversial post. Always remember that articulate, well-reasoned, and thoughtful content can quickly derail your search for controversy and could accidentally breed true dialogue.
In order to avoid such a disaster, be sure to write with an affected and careless condescension reminiscent of any number of 1950's sitcom fathers, ESPN analysts, or anyone who's appeared on Fox News, CNN or MSNBC within the last calendar year.
When writing, be sure to universalize your experience. You're the writer, you're the only person who's really important in this situation. Even though we both know you're searching out the largest readership possible, pretend that everyone who reads it will think it exactly like you. It might be enticing to include a dash of humility or grace, but try your best to avoid that dastardly urge.
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| Do not use! |
If you feel like your content is a little weaker than you would want or if the language isn't as inflammatory as you'd earlier hoped, try making an appeal to biblical authority by quoting a verse. To achieve optimal controversy, choose a verse that's both out of context and easy to misinterpret.
Pro Tip: Apply Greek or Hebrew transliteration to increase the assumed sincerity of your fallacious argument.
Step #3: Select a Provocative Title
A good title is the bait for your incendiary trap, and it can make or break your attempt to stir up a proper controversy. You want to settle on a title that teases the irrationally controversial content of your post, but doesn't go too far and drive away the masses too frustrated to even take a look at the mess you've created.
I suggest a title that subtly hints at a point opposite your thesis thus baiting people into a post they expect to like before bashing them over the head with incoherent and offensive logic contained within.
If you aren't the subtle type, and let's face it if you're following these instructions, you aren't, then you may want to try something more extreme and totalizing. Use words like "wrong" or "lie" in your title to entice people to read about why someone would be making such a "radical" claim.
Step #4: Passive-Aggressively Defend
Now that you've written and published your incendiary, condescending, "biblically based" blogging screed, it's time to stoke the flames of internet discontent.
If you've followed the first four steps, you should begin to receive angry comments and tweets in mere minutes. The internet simply cannot abide someone being as callously wrong as you currently are.
Be sure to respond to the reasonable disagreements of those in your comment section with scorn and mockery. Take their words out of context, allege persecution, and constantly refer to your personal experience as a trump card to their well-crafted arguments of logic and general decency.
Once you've got the comment section roiling jump on over to Twitter. Write passive-aggressive tweets about how you wish "people could learn to disagree" and constantly use the phrase "it's just my story." If you're feeling adventurous, continue to belittle those who present critiques or express concern about your ideas on Twitter.
Finally, maintain a public dialogue with friends who agree with your inane blog post so that the few people who still think you're actually open to a conversation can be cynically disabused of such a notion. Casually and unironically use the word "haters" in a number of tweets to personal friends.
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| You! |
Step #5: Profit
Note: This
step has been inserted in accordance with United States Statute 745.1G,
also known as the "List Adherence Act of 1993," which requires that all
lists "contain a vague reference to the value of capitalist intentions
belying the foundational element of content creation in the emerging
'Information Age.'"
I hope you've enjoyed writing this controversial blog post and
basking in the artificial internet infamy that such a post can create.
Who knows, if you keep following these simple instructions over and over
for decades on end, maybe all of the reasonable people will just stop
trying.
Peace,
Ben
Ben
Howard is an accidental iconoclast and generally curious individual
living in Nashville, Tennessee. He is also the editor-in-chief of On Pop
Theology and an avid fan of waving at strangers for no reason. You can
follow him on Twitter @BenHoward87.
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