Why I Write

In this post, Lalaith explains her purposes for posting on the blog. Since, after all, they are HER purposes, there's not really much for me to say about them. I hope she continues in her search for truth until it is found.

Instead, I thought I would take this opportunity to explain, perhaps more fully, why I am writing. Like, Lalaith, I am not writing out of hatred, fear, or anger. I did not start this blog in retaliation, but rather as a scale to create balance. If their blog is one side of a coin, I am endeavoring to make my blog the other side.

Mostly, this is because they are lost, and I would feel remiss if I did not do what I could to bring God's light to bear on the things that I can - both for them, and for any who come to read their blog. I don't expect to change their minds; in fact, I know that I cannot. However, what is impossible with men is possible with God. This goes for ex-Christians the same as it does for atheists and Muslims, Mormons and any other non-regenerated person.

I'm also writing because I see in the Church a lot of the same things that they have mentioned, and it is galling to me to think that Christians have been a force to dissuade others from believing, rather than persuading them by their living to come to Christ. This is the part that makes me frustrated and, sometimes, even angry. Obviously, I am not perfect; it could be things that I have done that have been a part of that - but that is only the more saddening. It does not excuse anything.

And this brings me to the last reason that I am writing. I feel that I need the reminder that people are watching all the time, the nudge that says, "What you do or do not do is seen and can have an impact." They are watching. They are looking. They are struggling. I need to be reminded that my life is not for me. My life is for God's glory. If I am not reminded, I will fall back into complacence, into praying only occasionally or begrudgingly, rather than longing for the time of fellowship with God where I can pour out my life to Him. I will start to read the Bible again, only because I know that I should, not because I long to hear the Word of God. Church on Sunday mornings will be more than sufficient and I will have no desire to serve others.

That is a horrible thought. That is a miserable thought. I have been there. It wasn't guilt that made me miserable; I'm very adept at ignoring guilt. It was the hollowness of it that was miserable. It was living for me that was miserable. It was the lack of relationship with my God and my Father that was miserable.

Lalaith and Threnody talk a lot about how horrible their lives were and how wonderful they are now. I've said numerous times that I am happy for them. However, they seem to be missing something in their blogs, the balance that proclaims what makes them happy would make me miserable. What they feel free without, I would miss so fervently and entirely, because I love it. When I moved to California, I moved from going to four one-hour services of church meetings, to one hour and a half service. Thankfully, there is a Ladies' Bible study that I have been able to attend and a mid-week evening time of study that we go to. But I still miss going to church on Sunday nights. Why? Because I love it. I love the corporate worship; I love the preaching; I love the fellowship we enjoy before and after.

I've often thought about how very cool it would be to travel Europe for a summer; and my next immediate thought is, "But what about church?" I write because I need reminders of what is important.