“Do people even read blogs anymore?”

I laughed. This was the response of a friend and mentor of mine when I told her I was considering writing a blog. I laughed because she’s right; the days of blogging seem to be long gone. A quick Google search of “popularity of blogs” reveals articles entitled “Is Blogging Finally Dead?” and “It’s 2020. Is Blogging Still a Thing?”

But, to be honest, I’m not starting a blog in hopes of making money or becoming a leading voice in a particular field. Sure, it would be nice if people read what I write (so thanks for being here!). I’d be elated if my written thoughts made an impact on someone’s life. But my primary purpose in blogging isn’t impacting others. I’m blogging for myself.

Don’t worry, you haven’t just opened up my diary. I do realize, and even hope, that others will read what I write. I hope that my blogs can be relatable and thought-provoking for others. You’ll never read a blog from my page that begins with, “Dear Diary, Today I had an omelet.” It bothers me when others waste my time; I hope I don’t waste yours.

But I am blogging for myself. In an instant society, one that encourages reactions rather than reflections, I often have a realization or intriguing thought that I would love to explore but then, within an instant, another thought appears and I never return to what could have been a treasure trove of new insights and inspiration.

The consequences of this go far beyond just missing out on some insights and inspiration. In conversations, I try to return to this thought and share it with someone else. Often, I find myself unable to articulate that thought. In those moments, I often feel like a rocket with just enough fuel to create a massive flame underneath, only to sputter out before getting off the ground.

When I think about people I admire and enjoy being around, many of them share one characteristic: They speak their thoughts and convictions clearly. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy being around people who, like myself, are external processors. In fact, some of my most treasured moments with friends and mentors are when they allow me the privilege of hearing them verbally process their thoughts. But when it comes time for them to share their convictions, they do so clearly and thoughtfully, rather than ramble with their scattered thoughts.

Haddon Robinson once said, “Writing scrapes the fungus off our thoughts.” I so often feel that when my mouth opens, the thoughts that come out are quite fungus-covered. My hope is that, through blogging, I force myself to engage with thoughts that I, or others, have in hopes of generating thoughtful, beneficial insights that I’ve learned.

Writing takes time, effort, and intentional reflection. Our society avoids that which takes time, effort, and intentional reflection. You might even say that I’m writing in hopes of fighting against some of the ways culture has formed me into becoming an instant-gratification-seeking person. Maybe in sharing my insights, you’ll take time to pause, reflect, and critically engage in your own thoughts as well. Maybe together we can meaningfully engage with the thoughts we so often allow to slowly accumulate fungus.

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I was never one that particularly enjoyed my literature classes. But one of the things that has stuck with me since my high school literature class is a question I have found particularly helpful in many areas of my life. After reading each new book, we had to answer a series of questions. One question asked: What hole does this book fill in the literature bookshelf? We had to imagine that every book ever written could be found on one bookshelf, organized by topic. We had to find what hole in the bookshelf this particular book filled. Does it fill the hole of how to healthily doubt and deconstruct your faith (as AJ Swoboda’s book After Doubt so aptly does)? Does it fill the hole of teaching leaders the importance of, and practicality of pursuing, the most essential thing in their lives (as Greg McKeown’s Essentialism beautifully does)? Every good book should fill a hole in the literature bookshelf; otherwise, a book that attempts to fill a hole already filled will simply be rewording a book already written.

As I have considered writing a blog over the last year or so, I have often asked myself the question: What hole in the blogosphere will this blog fill? My inability to answer that question has been a primary reason why I’ve postponed launching this blog for so long. Despite my strong desire to have something all figured out before I begin, that’s rarely possible, and almost never helpful.

The truth is, I’m not entirely sure yet what this blog will be. You’ll get lots of talk about my faith and the Church, with views reflecting my Wesleyan upbringing and education. You’ll definitely get lots of sports analogies and some stories from the business world. While I’m not the most avid reader (though I’m certainly trying to become more of one) I’m sure you’ll hear about each book I’m reading. I guess the more I write, the more we’ll learn together about what hole in the blogosphere I’m beginning to fill.

So thanks for joining me on this journey. In the end, I hope this blog helps me pause, think, and explore my own thoughts and experiences. I hope that as I clean the fungus off of my thoughts, they will help you engage more with your thoughts. Maybe we can be fungus-cleaners together. Welcome aboard.