An Introduction
Most people who know me have seen me with a notebook. It’s your run of the mill notebook, the ones like we used to take notes on in school. I’ve had dozens, if not hundreds, of these over the years. They’ve been filled with daily tasks, prayers, anger, sadness, confusion, and goals.
I’ve even wrote on the computer for many years, usually on a word document on various topics. There are few things I want to do more than post my writings publicly — for myself, family, friends, and strangers to read — yet I’ve never fully committed to opening Pandora's box. Simply, the risk seems great.
That I would share too much. That I would come off a certain way. That I would write something that I regret. That I would offend someone. That I would disqualify myself from future opportunities. That my writing would be used against me. That I would come off as a hypocrite, judgmental, or preachy. That my writing wouldn’t feel original or “good.” That I wouldn’t be consistent and it would be just another thing I did that I couldn’t stick to. That I would be paralyzed to click publish.
Perhaps these are all paranoid thoughts and the reality is no one cares, and if they do, it will be the few people who read this. On the other hand, maybe those worries are perfectly legitimate. I want to write things that will make people feel. That will generate a reaction — any reaction. Otherwise, what’s the point? There are a lot of ways people can spend their time. If I’m not opening up doors or sharing authentic thoughts and stories, then my writing might as well exist in my notebook, perfectly safe and exempt from people’s reactions and thoughts.
The truth is, I want to connect. My life at 32 is very different than 22. I relished having long conversations for hours on end with family and friends until the middle of the night. Now, I’m lucky if I have 15 good minutes (with someone who isn’t my wife) a week of conversation that isn’t about how work is going or what’s new in my life.
So if I don’t have time to dive deep on the phone or in person with every person I care about on a consistent basis, perhaps the best method of connecting with those that I love is through longform writing on things that matter to me. My startup background says that if I can’t get clone myself, sharing my writing allows me to “scale” myself.
…
It’s December 30th, so you may think that writing is part of my New Year’s resolution along with limiting my chicken in a biscuit intake. You’d be mostly wrong, but I’d applaud your estimation.
A few weeks ago, it was announced that our church was launching The Quiet Year. This was sparked by a growing frustration with the role of our phones, technology, and social media in our everyday lives. The challenge was this — no social media for an entire year. As you can imagine, this is a bombshell to people, many of whom use social media to connect with everyone from their long lost cousin to their high school crush to an old boss. To cut that chord is a daunting task. While I’m on social media less than I ever have been, the call to remove social media from our lives is not only about creating space for God, but an opportunity to reestablish how we connect to others.
A blank piece of paper has always been the place where I’ve felt completely comfortable and honest. And rather than live a “public” life where people know or see updates about what job I have or a photo of my family and I at a baseball game, I’d prefer for people to know what’s deep inside my heart and that maybe, just maybe, it would spark a response that leads to a conversation and a connection.
Let’s hope this is the start of something new and something real.
Love,
Paul
