Why Blogging Scares Me to Death

Forgive me as I offer up another confessional.  I don’t love blogging…  The truth is, it plain old scares me to death.

Blogging scares me because it requires an element of creativity.  And creativity is vulnerable.  And if I’m honest, I don’t like being vulnerable; it leaves me feeling incredibly exposed—almost worse than the I just noticed that I was naked at school dream we all had as kids.

Some might argue that I have control over just how much exposure I choose to reveal on this blog, and I suppose I could follow their advice, but it’s just not in my nature.  I’ve always been a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of bloke, for better or for worse.

And so I willingly expose myself weekly—for what purpose you may ask?

That is The Question…

I believe that we all take steps daily either toward each other or away from each other.  Either toward community or away from it.  It’s not an all-or-nothing proposition, but rather multiple steps in some sequence forward or back, backward or forward.

Imagine, for the sake of analogy, a large group of people standing in a circle around a campfire on a cold evening.

At the end of the day, the sum total of our steps leaves us as individuals either closer to the center (the fire) or further away from it.

When I am in a room full of people, and I opt to pull out my phone and text friends in a different room full of different people, I take a step away from the fire, and unwittingly ask my friend to do the same.

When I arrive home after a hard day at work and my kids all greet me at the door, each telling me a story about his day all at the same time, I can pick whether I will take a step closer to the center, closer to them, or away from them.  And that choice happens in a split second; sometimes I choose to engage, and when I do, amazing things happen:  My boys’ faces light up as they recount whatever it is that’s on their mind, and the troubles and hassles of my day seem to quickly fade and are replaced by the stuff that matters more. 

I’m trying to make that engagement more of a habit.

When I fall onto the couch after tucking the kids in and immediately turn on a ballgame before checking in with my wife and hearing about her day, I take a step backward. 

Throughout the day I take steps forward and steps backward, just like you do.  Just like your friends, coworkers, and spouse do.

And so imagine this large crowd of people, all standing around the warmth of the campfire.  When someone courageously takes a step forward, that person is exposed.  She is no longer able to hide in the comfort of the masses, for she has chosen a trajectory that brings her closer to the warmth, but more out in the open.  People suddenly see more of her, since she isn’t hiding anymore.

What a bummer if the pressure gets to her and she steps back; for if she were to do this, she would suddenly blend in with the rest and return to hiding, per se, but all the while sacrificing the warmth of the fire.

If, on the other side of the crowd, someone takes a step back, he is actually less noticeable than the woman with the courage to step forward.  He withdraws, and in so doing takes a step further from the community and out closer to the cold of the evening.

But what if the courageous woman stays put, and by doing so, invites others to take a step closer toward the center?

Those who take a step closer experience warmth while also getting a better view of each other’s faces and expressions, voices and intonations.  They collectively take a step into knowing each other.

Sure, some might get scared and take a step back, but if we look at this dance of people—forward, backward, backward, and forward and ask ourselves where we fit into that mix, what would we see?

Do we take steps closer to each other?  Closer to community, even though it means we’re leaving ourselves vulnerable?

Or do we take steps back, leaving the warmth in exchange for the comfort of staying in hiding?

The good news (or bad?) is that we get to make hundreds of choices each and every day which direction we’re stepping.  And sure, sometimes it might feel like we get too close and end up getting burned (I’ve been there many times), but something about me can’t seem to get enough of the warmth of the fire.

I have tried to stay away; I really have.  I’ve spent months, sometimes years on the periphery, but something keeps drawing me out, drawing me closer to the center.

And that’s why I write each and every Wednesday; in the hopes that we might all encourage each other, vulnerabilities and all, to take steps closer to each other, closer to the warmth and familiarity, closer to community, closer to the Center. 

Because I believe the risks far outweigh the consequences of a society which seems to be constantly tugging at us to step back; to step away.

I’m not sure in what ways you might be called to step forward, but you’re reading one of mine…