Blogging Is Easy: Living Your Blog Is Not

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It really breaks my heart to see bloggers write things that are not true in their own lives.  They write way too far ahead of themselves, or sort of make up nice-sounding theoretical things to get reblogged, but it falls apart when you start thinking about it.

I only know this because I personally know a few of these bloggers, and really, it would be so much more sincere to admit we don’t have it together.  That we’re not there yet.  That we struggle with the stuff that we call out on others.  Is it so hard to admit that?

It’s okay to say we suck at this right now.  It’s okay to include ourselves in our preachiness. Because without recognizing your failure, you’re leaving a very bad taste in my mouth.  I don’t mean to sound cruel; I seriously take no pleasure in it.  I say that because I love you and I know you could be so much more than your pedestal.


We are not above the things we write.  You cannot ask from others what you’re not attempting yourself first.  We’re all getting by on the grace of God here.

Please don’t say “Confront each other” if you can’t handle rebuke yet.

Please don’t say “Love each other” without acknowledging you’re not good at it either.

Please don’t give “spiritual tips” that aren’t field-tested and life-approved.  It’s cool to say you just don’t know.

This is not to look humble in reverse.  This is to say we’re in the same boat and that I am working on this the same as you are.  A beautiful thing happens when we meet in our brokenness and get to eye-level — a sort of dance that invites others instead of flaunting a desperate perfection.

It’s also not just enough to be honest and stay there.  It doesn’t do any good to tell a man you’re robbing his house tonight.  Change is a process, but that means there is a process.  It means we can start today, where we are, this moment.  But it begins with honesty.

God has grace for us on this, even for the times that we don’t.

— J

Really Saying

It’s romantic to believe that the guy who calls and texts first, saves ‘I love you’ for you, covers you with his coat, cooks your favorite meal even if he’s allergic to it, and a flurry of other Hollywood montage moments will really fulfill you. Before we die, we want to visit Paris at night during Christmas and parasail over the Atlantic and sip wine on a hot air balloon — but you don’t really mean that.

What are you really saying? You want these things if the dude isn’t creepy, if the poor beggars in Paris do not intrude on your comfort, and as long as you don’t have to prepare a thing. A cute guy who texts you first is cute, but you change your philosophy when the dude is too nice or too short or has no jawline. Children are cute until you have to raise one — and kids are screwed up because we push our distorted view of idealism on them in place of real gritty sacrifice.

What you’re really saying is you demand a photoshopped dream, like the impossible make-up model on the cover of Maxim, to attain the highest degree of complacency at the least amount of effort for the easiest life possible. Your blog proves it.

We reveal our selfish hearts with a conditional wishlist that reads more like a bad movie script. Can you step back for a moment and examine what you really mean? And why you have these idealistic fantasies? And what your motives are? We buy into bizarre paradigms of romance and leisure and life without thinking to the bottom of them. You’ll find quickly that self-serving is not even good enough to serve yourself.

The wasted life wastes no time wasting it. The destined life invests time and makes it. You can cheat yourself to death simply by choosing the current convenient option. A life of non-committed fantasy is just a walking grave.