The church Mr. S. and I attend recently finished phase one of a renovation. It was more of a need-to thing than a want-to: the staircase was narrow, the plumbing was spotty, the construction wasn’t entirely sound.
So walking in on Sunday morning to new staircases and railings and paint and the whole nine yards was both alarming and gratifying. Much looked new and unfamiliar, and I was humbled to see the changes.
Another church owned this building for many years. As that congregation aged and the building aged, the church gave this building as a gift, to the church in it today. So there are remnants of the past all over the place, in both eerie and special ways. The pastor who preached on Sunday mentioned the occasion and we all clapped.
But in the same breath . . . this building, he said, will end up in the dumpster.
In the construction process, he mentioned, past building campaigns and construction blueprints were uncovered . . . and they all ended up in the dumpster. Beams and boards and floors and carpet and so much stuff was all dumpster-bound. This building will eventually end up in the dumpster.
And I thought instantly of this blog of mine. Just like my precious circa-2000 Xanga, with my destined-for-greatness username writergirl1226, destined for the Internet dumpster.
Right alongside the you’ve-got-mail of Internets past, this blog is dumpster-bound.
But the impact of this blog and the people and the hearts and the lives . . . that doesn’t have to be dumpter-bound.
It’s what we do in this building, how this building blesses the community, how Christ shows up in the lives of those who walk through the building . . . that’s what matters, the pastor mentioned.
Similarly, it’s what happens online that matters. It’s relationships and minds and words and stories and lives and lives and lives. That’s what matters.
The kiddos in hospital delivery rooms today will grow up to laugh at what we call the Internet. So we better do something that matters. This blog is destined for the dumpster. But lives are not.
We’re called to love. We’re called to love with this online stuff. We’re called to lift up and encourage and challenge. We’re made for action. We need to use this online presence to speak when necessary and whisper when necessary and quit this shouting match. No more game of telephone. No more megaphones. All conversation and connection.
It’s people. People behind the screens, people whose fingers tap the keyboards.
300 posts later, thank you for reading. Thank you for believing in me. I started this blog during one of the darkest times of my life and it’s gratifying to look back and look forward.
Cheers, friends. Pour yourself a glass of whatever you like — mine will be red wine — and toast with me? To setting ourselves free from the Internet, and free to live a life of meaning, on and off our screens.
Love you so much,
PS – With post #301 tomorrow, I’m jumping back into that 30 days of freelance writing jazz. Get excited.