The feel of this blog has taken a very different direction and tone of late. A lot more personal, and a lot less mindful of the going ons of the world beyond my own bubble of existence.
This isn't the first time I've tried my hand at blogging, but Pilgrim's Progress has in rather inexplicable ways captured my imagination. Like a baby that gurgles in surprise and giggles at the joy of finding something new.
To my delight, I am finding this space slowly forming and filling: to reflect my interests and tastes, to research, reflect and ruminate. To find my voice as a writer as I pen my thoughts to paper and in the more modern modus operandi - allow my fingers free reign over the typepad.
Gleefully, I've found fellow pilgrims on the journey. Some who are far off whose only connection I can speak of is the Spirit of God that is working in all and through all, confirming the same message. Others who are near enough to allow me the privilege of sharing common meals together, and seeing in real time occassions and events that make their way through to online portals as powerful and tender listening points.
And perhaps most unexpectedly, I never thought about the ripples I would create in my wake. The realisation that there is an audience brings a rush of warmth to every writer. Vocational discernment has been for me a painstaking process of discovering - and a constant stepping out in faith no less, albeit in baby steps, against the odds of my cultural and educational background.
Every reader reads for a different reason.
For pilgrims who are leading the way for me, these posts mark the milestones of my progress. For others who are journeying alongside me, these posts are a patchwork and tapestry that tell the story of how God is working all our lives out for good.
Still for others I am mother hen: nesting, hatching and nursing. Running round the pen clucking and flapping my wings in a flurry of excitement mingled with chaos, gathering my chicks with everything I've got, as far and as fast as my scratchy and tawny feet would allow me.
And there have been an odd few who have stumbled in quite by accident.
Chesterton was perceptive when he said that Christianity has not been tried but found wanting. Rather, it has been found difficult and left untried. His words have informed a large part of my life. The work of sticking my nose into other people's affairs as a journalist is in every way a daily wrestle with the One whom I call Yahweh. Can I reliably depend upon the Biblical story as the metanarrative to story after story of tragedy, bloodshed, corruption, crime and injustice?
These questions coupled with Chesterton's assertions have consistently trained my eyes to think outside the box. It has done me well, adding to my person substance and a robustness to my faith. But in my preoccupation, I have also on occassion failed to look inward, and seek out answers to the questions I have about my own life.
The series of misfortunes I have suffered of late, some have been lamentably funny. It's the stuff of soaps and dramas, many have said. That may be true, but they cannot be discounted. the question I must ponder is: what is God seeking to do in my life right here right now? My bubble of existence and the chaos and wars that rage on inside matter just as much as the conflict and wars that are taking place elsewhere in the world.
Forming and filling. This pilgrim is a work in progress. Watch this space grow and look at the writing on the wall: commentaries and discussions, poetry and prose.
Every reader reads for a different reason.
For pilgrims who are leading the way for me, these posts mark the milestones of my progress. For others who are journeying alongside me, these posts are a patchwork and tapestry that tell the story of how God is working all our lives out for good.
Still for others I am mother hen: nesting, hatching and nursing. Running round the pen clucking and flapping my wings in a flurry of excitement mingled with chaos, gathering my chicks with everything I've got, as far and as fast as my scratchy and tawny feet would allow me.
And there have been an odd few who have stumbled in quite by accident.
Chesterton was perceptive when he said that Christianity has not been tried but found wanting. Rather, it has been found difficult and left untried. His words have informed a large part of my life. The work of sticking my nose into other people's affairs as a journalist is in every way a daily wrestle with the One whom I call Yahweh. Can I reliably depend upon the Biblical story as the metanarrative to story after story of tragedy, bloodshed, corruption, crime and injustice?
These questions coupled with Chesterton's assertions have consistently trained my eyes to think outside the box. It has done me well, adding to my person substance and a robustness to my faith. But in my preoccupation, I have also on occassion failed to look inward, and seek out answers to the questions I have about my own life.
The series of misfortunes I have suffered of late, some have been lamentably funny. It's the stuff of soaps and dramas, many have said. That may be true, but they cannot be discounted. the question I must ponder is: what is God seeking to do in my life right here right now? My bubble of existence and the chaos and wars that rage on inside matter just as much as the conflict and wars that are taking place elsewhere in the world.
Forming and filling. This pilgrim is a work in progress. Watch this space grow and look at the writing on the wall: commentaries and discussions, poetry and prose.
1 comment:
hi karen! its liz :). I'm glad to have stumbled and catch a glimpse upon what must only be a portion of the beautiful quilt the Lord is weaving in and through you. Keep prosing!
Love
Liz
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