When I began Real Live Preacher, my great fear
was that somehow my writing might harm our church. We were a small community. If
a number of families left because of the perceived heresy or vulgarity of the
pastor, that would hurt us. It hurts when friends leave the church. There is
also a financial risk if you alienate people at a small church. If the budget is
tight and three or four families leave, we would be in trouble. The leaders who
deal with our budget would be stressed if we suddenly found it hard to pay the
electric bill.
So that was scary.
I was also worried that fear would stifle my
writing, convincing me to play it safe. Was I prepared to accept the
consequences of looking deeply into my own heart and writing about what I found
there? The anonymity of the early days gave me just enough courage to give it a
try. When that anonymity fell apart, I cringed and waited, but somehow my world
did not collapse and neither did the church. There were a few uncomfortable
moments, but everyone was okay.
For a time, my blog and my church were in
separate worlds. I never mentioned Real Live Preacher at church. It was common
knowledge that I had a blog, but I didn’t talk about it on Sunday. If I felt
like using the word fuck or expressing some honestly held but admittedly edgy
theology at Real Live Preacher, I did. I knew people in my church read the blog,
but I tried not to think about how they might react to my writing.
Someone once asked me what has causes
the most controversy at Real Live Preacher. Without a doubt it is my
occasional use of the word fuck. I don’t know why, but that word represents
the crossing of some boundary of vulgarity that makes a lot of people very
uncomfortable. I don’t like to use that word, and I don’t use it very often.
I always try to find some other way to express myself, but sometimes – just
sometimes – only the word fuck will do.
Whenever I use that word I think about
my mother-in-law, who reads my blog now. I love her, and I know she loves
me. That word bothers her; it probably even hurts her to read it because she
wonders what kind of a man would use that sort of language. And I am married
to her daughter and the father of her grandchildren, so she cares what kind
of man I am. You don’t want to write things that hurt or trouble people who
love you unless it is truly necessary. I hate having to choose between
writing something with all the power and punch that I feel it deserves and
troubling my mother-in-law. But that is the choice I often face.
It helped me to think of
the two parts of my life as existing in separate worlds. It was like a grand
game of denial. Swallow hard and write. Then don’t talk about it at church or
with your mother-in-law. I was happy to keep those worlds apart. If you look at
the banner of my blog, the little man in the robe is me, trying to keep two
worlds from colliding.
Then something interesting began happening.
Occasionally someone would show up at our church because of Real Live Preacher.
I remember the first time it happened. A handful of “Real Live Preacher
readers,” as they described themselves, drove down from Austin one Sunday
morning. The writer in me was flattered, but it was also a little frightening.
Still, it’s not as though we can put a sign on our door that says, “Everyone is
welcome EXCEPT those who read Gordon’s blog.”
As the months went by, more people came to our
church because they had read Real Live Preacher. It became a fairly common
occurrence. Some of them wanted to see something that I had written about, like
George's rock, or the big cedar tree behind the church. I was a little
uncomfortable with this, but nothing bad happened. I got used to it and stopped
worrying about it. So what if people come to our church and want to look at a
tree or something. Why should I care?
Things began accelerating in December of last
year. One Sunday we had nine visiting families. At least half of them found out
about our church through my blog. A few of these families have now joined the
church, and a couple of others will probably do so before long. For years I put
out 70 chairs each Sunday, but now I have to put out 100, which is all we have.
We have some folding chairs in case we need them, but yes, we’re out of chairs. I
guess we’ll have to buy some more.
I’ve been watching these developments
carefully, pondering them and asking myself what all of it means. I’ve decided
it doesn’t mean much. People show up at church for all sorts of reasons. How
they got there really isn’t that important.
I have noticed something though. I don’t know
if it is good or bad, and it really doesn’t matter since I can’t control it
anyway. Real Live Preacher may have become a kind of filter for our church. Some
church people put a lot of stock in the beliefs, public presence, and life of
their pastor. If someone is uncomfortable with either the theology or the
occasionally stark honesty of Real Live Preacher, they might not come to our
church at all. Or if they come, they might not stay. On the other hand, here are
these people who are coming specifically because they like the theology and stark honesty of
RLP.
If indeed Real Live Preacher has become a
filter for our church, then my blog will change the nature of Covenant Baptist
Church over time. I don't want that kind of power. The only thing that makes this situation
even palatable is that I never asked for this, and there doesn't seem to be
anything I can do about it.
Worlds are colliding, and there is nothing I
can do. The world of my writing and the world of my church have ground
together slowly, like one galaxy passing through another. This may be good news,
bad news, or just plain news, but stopping the collision is definitely out of my
hands at this point.
Whaddya gonna do?
Recently I had lunch with a visiting family
after church. Their son told them about Real Live Preacher, and they began
reading it. Months went by, and they decided to show up on a Sunday morning.
Lunch was enjoyable. They seem like the sort of people who need to find us. I
noticed how relaxed I was with then, chatting about our church or Real Live
Preacher, almost as if there was no longer any boundary between my writing and
my life as a pastor.
Good thing? Bad thing? Just a thing?
I don’t know. What does it matter? It’s
happening, and as usual, I feel that I am just on for the ride.
Who knows where this is going?
Rlp
