If you read my column, read this first

Sometimes finding a balance between beliefs and brevity, purpose in 500-words-or-less and the audience you know who reads it, can make being a columnist for a small town paper a challenge.

Whenever I sit down to write each week, I ask myself three questions throughout the development of my column: Am I strengthening? Am I encouraging? And, am I comforting?

Now, although my column is not supposed to be on religion, per se, folks who follow Jesus may recognize those three questions from 2 Thessalonians:

May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word. (2 Thessalonians 2:16-17)

I like the way The Message interprets it:

So, friends, take a firm stand, feet on the ground and head high. Keep a tight grip on what you were taught, whether in personal conversation or by our letter. May Jesus himself and God our Father, who reached out in love and surprised you with gifts of unending help and confidence, put a fresh heart in you, invigorate your work, enliven your speech.

Sometimes I accomplish that, sometimes I don’t.

Add to that the fact my columns are due a week before they are published, and the struggle to be relevant and timely mingle into the batter.

Sometimes my little old cake of words turns out a bit burnt and lopsided.

I write all this today to give you insight into the life of a columnist, and also as a preface to this week’s column. I’m not proud of it. I could’ve said more. I could’ve said less. I could’ve not said anything at all.

I wish I would’ve written something like Karen Spears Zacharias did here, or in her blog post here. Or like Renea did, over at All the Church Ladies, here. Billy Coffey also nailed one in his blog post about what he was doing when the rapture didn’t happen.

I wish I could’ve talked about how, when folks were so worked up about doomsday, Nicholas Kristof was helping free little girls from the chains of imprisonment in a brothel in India.

I wish, but I didn’t.

Some days, a writer really feels like she misses the mark.

This is one of those days.

However, I own my words, so like every week, I’m posting a link to my column.

I just hope most folks who read it come here first.

And that God will forgive me for not being more brave . . . and that He will guide me to press into Him more as I write.

So here it is.

My lame column about Harold Camping: If left behind, please feed my dogs.

I think I’ll just end with my pastor’s tweet about the whole thing:

@DDRod Have kept my mouth shut till now but when do we call the money wasted on the end of the world stupidity a travesty and grave injustice?

 

Amen.

 

And amen.

My church sister

We were as close as two humans could be, despite so many opposing things: She was old, and I was young; she was poor and we were rich; she grew shorter as I grew taller; she was quiet and humble, I was noisy and naïve . . .

To read the rest of this post about the lady who showed me what being the church really means, head over to All the Church Ladies blog by clicking here. It’s a great place to hear about all the good things churches do and about all the sisters (and a few brothers) who love each other back to breathin’ again.