be vulnerable, not relevant

On December 17, 2007 / By maggi dawn / Reply

"the Christian leader of the future is called to be completely irrelevant and to stand in this world with nothing to offer but his or her own vulnerable self."
Henri Nouwen

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Comments

  1. i think you nailed it – there is nothing new under the sun. we act as if e.g. online dating is something new – but my grandparents wrote letters across the expanse of north america. text is text – and i love your comparison of books (undeniably reputable) to blogs (uhhh, we’re not too sure)… :-)

  2. Absolutely! If I want a conversation, blogging is not the best way to get one (although I do often enjoy the give and take of comments when a good conversation comes along). I blog because it is a great way to keep my writing chops up. And I enjoy writing for the joy of writing, as an end not as a means. And I guess that is the difference – many people never see writing as more than a means; whether they publish a book to make money, an article to enhance their vita, or a blog to start a conversation. I agree, such writing will always prove disatisfying.

  3. Great post, Maggi.
    I write because I cannot help but write: it is, as you say, in my nature, part of who I am made to be.
    I blog because that immediacy and ever-shifting attention is part of who I am.
    And I very rarely get comments on my blog. But I get quite a few emails that mention something I have posted there; and conversations on the phone; and – and I’m still always suprised by this – lots of face-to-face conversations as a result of things I blog.
    So I don’t blog to be in conversations; but I often find myself in conversations because I blog…

  4. yes yes yes!
    I have only just begun to discover this, so it is good to see it written here.
    I blog because I will always write, regardless of stats, comments or otherwise.

  5. A great, timely, well-said post, Maggi.
    I think also, that blogs are there to some extent to generate interest in what one does, whatever that may be.
    Calling it a “conversation” can be a bit of a misnomer. The best blogs appeal to people’s selfishness – they will only come back regularly if there’s something “in it for me.” (or else why would they?!)
    If it means you start interacting with someone that you might not normally have access to, then that’s great (I’ve had some interesting “conversations” through my blog), but I think you’re right to identify blogs as a reading excercise rather than a conversational one.

  6. A blog works a bit like a digital scrapbook doesn’t it? A bit like having another sort of notebook, only tidier (slightly)and a bit more thought out (occasionally) but just as random (definitely).
    I like the Frank Wesley picture on your new book. I’d get it for that alone, but the writing looks great too.

  7. Well put, Maggi. I blog as a form of journaling. To a lesser extent, it is a tool to reach out to family members who live far away with a redacted version of my life. That said, it is something of a craft studio where I write things other than papers for seminary. I’ve developed online friendships with other RevGal bloggers, but I have found on meeting them that we have an odd sort of relationship – we know too much about some parts of each others’ lives, and too little about other parts. It takes time (chronological and face time) to build relationships. Those who think blogs are an intellectual form of match.com are bound to be mistaken.

  8. Good riposte Maggi, and, paradoxically, good conversation with it too.
    I agree with so much here, and recognise myself in the note-taking-anywhere that I’m not sure if I’m frustrated with blogging or not, actually. I certainly am with the ‘emerging conversation’ – because I don’t think there’s actually half as much conversation going on as people would like to spin it.
    I don’t know if you saw Jonny’s post on ‘Facebook Oppression’, but he outlined how crammed our digital lives are getting. There is just so much information being created that I find it a little overwhelming. Using your notes analogy, I suppose it’s like there being so many of them being created at such a rate that one begins to drown under paper!
    So the Conch idea – which is fictitious, I hope people realised – was imagining a way of simply limiting the volume of noise.

  9. I blog because I am.
    I blog because it’s nearer than the pub.
    I blog so my wife can find out what I’m thinking.
    Blogging is like the wedding speech. In most other things you say, you tailor it to the audience. In the wedding speech, the audience is everyone you care about, all very different. There’s no point adding spin – you have to be you. So too with the blog. In other words, I blog to find out what I really think.

  10. Maggi
    Thanks for this thoughtful stuff. Though blogging is not conversation in the truest sense and a computer is certainly not cuddly, there is a relational quality to blogging we have yet to find the vocabulary to adequately describe, I think. It feeds my call to write and it has helped me make connections (with folks like you) I might not have found as easily or at all.
    Peace,
    Milton

  11. thanks all, ANdrew I like your one-liner “I don’t blog to be in conversations; but I often find myself in conversations because I blog…” that sums it up neatly.
    Kester – riposte? isn’t that a word derived from a sword-fight or fencing or something? I ain’t fighting anyone, just thinking, and agreeing with your drift… why riposte?
    I liked Conch, and I didn’t point out that it was fictional because I thought it would be fun to see whether people read all the way to the end of your post and found out for themselves.
    Duncan – “I blog to find out what I think” – excellent thought! Like Topsy in Uncle TOm’s Cabin – when she was told not to speak until she’d thought first, she replied “but how do I know what I think until I hear what I say?”

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