I have something important on my mind, but in order to explain it to you, I have to expose you to my crazy.
Once, in the embarrassingly recent past, I had this idea that I needed to read something by one of The Famous Authors. If you do not know who The Famous Authors are, they’re the ones whose names you can never think of on your own, but recognize immediately when you hear mentioned, and subsequently feel guilty for never having read (except when forced by someone with an English degree and a teaching license.) From what I can surmise, these authors became famous because they all focused on writing Works instead of trifling with mere books.
I pursued the idea of reading The Famous Authors to the point of convincing myself that reading one of their Works would be a great way to impress people. Despite the fact that THAT’S DUMB, I came up with a detailed plan for accomplishing my goal. It went like this:
Step 1: Read Tolstoy.
(No, I am not making this up.)
I knew nothing about Tolstoy when I began reading, so I purposely selected a collection of short stories. I figured that if I got bored with the reading, (who, me?) at least I wouldn’t have to read the boring stuff for very long. New story, new adventure, right?
(Reader’s Guide: This is where you should be laughing. Hard.)
About half way through the third story, it occurred to me, in what is likely the only moment of literary awareness in my entire life, that all of the stories I’d read so far had the exact same theme. And this theme of which I speak can be loosely paraphrased thusly:
Life is very terrible
As you can imagine, I was not tremendously excited at the prospect of reading the remainder of the book. But you can’t brag about reading Tolstoy if you don’t finish the book. So, I finished. And I learned (twice more!) that life is, indeed,
At the end of the book, I came upon the afterword to one of the stories. In it, Tolstoy plainly stated what he believed, which, if you are wondering, was this:
Life is very terrible
(More or less)
This bothered me. All I could think was, “Why write four fictional short stories when you can just give us this simple essay and say it plainly in the first place?” I’m more of a show-me-the-data-and-state-your-conclusion kind of girl. Having to divine The Deeper Meaning from all of the literature makes me kind of twitchy.
And this is why, two posts into this blog, we already have a problem. As you know, the first post on a blog should alert its readers to what they can expect in the weeks and months to come. And anyone who has read my first post is now expecting that this blog will be rife with…
Because my first post was completely metaphorical. This is truly unfortunate.
Not that there’s anything wrong with metaphor.
It’s just that I feel guilty for misleading you, and I need to fix that. So, let me be clear: If you like symbolism, you are in the wrong place.
More importantly, I need to clarify what you should expect when you visit here, which is, of course:
And now that all of that is out of the way, there’s something else you need to know. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been studying the first epistle of John, which ranks among my favorite books of the Bible. This is because one of the major themes is what we can know. There’s no deciphering. No guessing at meaning. It’s just John clearly stating what we can know about the things of God.
I really dig that.
And I feel like I needed to make that clear.
So, if you like bad humor and straight talk from God’s Word, then this could be the place for you. Right now, I am preparing a series that explains the meaning behind the title of this blog. It is light on the bad humor, but it’s got a Good Word, for sure. So stick around.
(Unless you like symbolism.)
(Or actual, funny humor.)