Taking my own medicine

There is always this delicious moment when I first open the cover of a blank, new notebook, and pause before I write down the first sentence: a sensation of freshness, of adventure, like straining to see your dish before the waiter sets it down. I have had this sensation many, many times, but always privately. Publicly like this feels, well, rather indecent.

I will write anyway.

I have resisted having a blog for many reasons. I am technologically grumpy. I am fearful and this half-published form seems dangerous. I am paranoid about my students looking at me knowingly in class, having read my blog the night before.

I will write anyway.

I will write because two things have come to my attention recently. First, I am only pretending to be private and most people know most things about me anyway. Second, I need to take my own medicine. while exchanging emails with an old friend, I found myself writing these words: there are times when people need an audience, need to be heard, need to dig out the thing that is lying at the center of their soul and say it, and for that, you sometimes need an audience.

I'm not sure where this journey will take me, but I want to start with a series of posts that are reflections upon Hebrews 11, particularly the passage that I have highlighted at the top of this page.