Blogging on Blogging

Here is a candid, personal, unfiltered portion of my essay for Fr. Dunne's class. It is the last part of an essay talking about how a "spiritual journey" is my way of making death a fulfillment of life. This part talks about my love of writing and the joys and dangers of writing regularly/keeping this blog. I want to thank you all for reading as much as you do and for sharing the thoughts here with others. God bless you! ...

The most personally nourishing thing I do is write. I find happiness and joy in the sacraments, liturgies, and tradition of the Church, in the outlets for personal piety to practice my spirituality and faith, and through my relationships with wonderful people that uphold my life as beacons of Christ’s love. However, when it comes to what I do myself, how I use my gifts and all that I am, I feel most engaged and sure when I am doing spiritual writing. I do not really keep a regular journal. However, occasionally, I will make a note to myself, wait for it to fester a bit in my head, and then find some time to flesh it out in a short essay and post it to my blog.

I love the opportunity to sit down with a thought or a reflection progression and put effort into pinning down the essence of what is brewing within me. The process of moving from more general, abstract reflection toward the ownership that comes with articulation is a welcome challenge for me. I differ from Lewis in that I target no segment or part of any audience (his was the general Christian public), but I am like him in that I will explore whatever comes into my being and present it publicly, to anyone who is interested, using whatever terms I can conjure up.

I realize that the things central to the faith are complex and literally are mysteries; ergo, I never seek or claim to give definitive, final answers to anything. I do not venture into polemics or apologetics too much, but I simply try to give unfiltered, first-hand thoughts of a conscientious Catholic Christian taking in the full scope of his life. The top of my blog is subtitled with a quote that I pulled from Origen in which he seeks to remind himself of the “John the Baptist” kind of idea but in a way re-crafted to speak to writers: “The spoken word, even if it is true in itself and very persuasive, is not sufficient to affect a human soul unless some power is also given by God to the speaker and grace is added to what is said. It is only by God's gift that this power is possessed by those whose preaching is successful” (Origen, Contra Celsum, 6.2).

I am blessed, humbled, and excited to have a pretty solid readership. Through some word of mouth, including a link in my e-mail signature, and posting links on my Facebook page, many friends, family, acquaintances, and even strangers read my blog and take in my thoughts. I see this as an opportunity and do not abuse my privilege: I strive for quality over quantity; I do not push an agenda or self-promote; I keep my writing centered on Christ, the Church, and Christianity. I thank God for the compliments and comments I receive, but I need to ground my actual work more concretely in prayer so that my writing pours forth from me in the most intentional way.

In addition to that, more profound dangers exist as possible traps. The quest for deeper understanding and for real articulation of belief is right and good. However, the danger grows when it becomes something insisted upon, when the centrality of mystery is jeopardized. Ultimately, I must remember that the Christian faith is founded on mysteries and miracles—the Incarnation and Resurrection are real, historical events that allow us amazing access to the God that is Love, but I must always remember the ultimate transcendence of these things that are the foundation of my faith. I am committed to that deep in my heart, but the trouble arises when I am treating the things that are less clearly mystery, the secondary and simpler things. The reality that human reason is limited and needs faith with it is what will keep me humble and grounded as I write about my ongoing spiritual journey.

The greatest danger that increasingly troubles me is the pervasiveness of my reflection. Taking time to be with oneself and with God, before God, is of utmost importance and is the crux of a life of prayer. The problem for me comes in naturally, instinctively, without prompting myself, reflecting on everything, almost instantaneously. It inhibits me from being fully present to moments as they happen and moves me into processing-reflecting mode before the moment has even passed. It troubles me when I can tell in a moment that I have already moved on from it as it is still happening. I have found greater peace and remedy in engaging myself with people and moments in order to not retreat so quickly into that place of reflection. When I am paying good attention to the people I am with and residing in a ministry of presence, I let the reflection wait until later on, when there is actual experience to reflect upon.