This year, I have felt pulled to release my voice.
However, I lack a method that felt suitable. I have many open doors but none seem to fit the bill.
Writing, for now, has somewhat ebbed in my spirit. I still do it, but not frequently. I’m somewhat certain the writing will return but it is on a hiatus of undetermined length. Plus, God help my readers; I drone on forever lecturing and appealing in theory, without offering a bridge for personal exercise. I have been so thankful for every time something I wrote strengthened you; it was a relief, more than I can say.
Facebook posts have become little more than a good way to chuck my heart out onto a dirt track in a sadistic exercise to see my heart seeds entirely crushed under the wheels of distraction and algorithm. (Well, OK, I write sometimes.) I still express myself there sometimes, by pretty much only by instinct, and even then, reluctantly.
Instagram, for some reason, is a no. I don’t know why.
Video is the only tool that doesn’t make me want to puke, but even then, where the hell does one pour out their heart while avoiding all the possible pitfalls? Then I remembered I bought this domain–my name, mostly because I lacked a better idea–last year and I should use it for something.
So in want of a truly good solution, I came up with this unoriginal concept, for the time being. In an effort to get moving and be obedient to the quiet nudging of my heart, I’ll be recording a video a day and posting it here. Mostly for me, and only because I feel prompted to do it. I make absolutely no promises as to content, length, validity or watchability. I don’t promise to be short, likable, well-groomed or filtered. In fact, I promise not to be. If I happen into a good hair day or excellent lighting, I solemnly swear to take advantage of it. If I look like a goth troll, well, here is my pre-emptive, blanket apology. Please try to hear my heart past my mommy face.
This is not a curated, developed project. In some ways, that’s the point.
The only plan is to be me. Unfiltered (except for the check of wisdom in my spirit) and honest (except when it’s not mine to tell). I hope I don’t overcorrect by being flawed in a way that validates brokenness, or by modeling authenticity that denies the power of the salvation of Jesus in every moment. But even if I do, may this exercise in faithful expression be a journey of growth and readiness. Maybe the best thing I can offer you is the visible expression of what it is to try without fearing public failure. Eh, better to fail publicly than to quietly simmer in private, with my destiny mired in self-doubt and fear. That is the ultimate form of hell to me.
So here goes. Just remember: I never said it’d be worth watching. I just said I’d open my heart.