Sooooo… here we are. Substack!
*looks around awkwardly, trying to look natural*
I used to blog, over here. Partly for fun. Partly to show that pastors are normal people too.
I brought those posts to this space. I think.
I was slow to get on social media. Dragged myself onto Facebook, and that was fun for awhile. Then it wasn’t. Some of you got weird, I’m just sayin’.
I deactivated that account months ago.
I tried Instagram. I tried so hard. But I’m a words person, not a pictures person, so I ended up just taking screenshots of words and posting them. My IG account is still active, but it’s mostly pics of my dog or pics of words.
Haven’t been there in a good while.
But Twitter - Twitter was my jam. It’s an art form to create just the right tweet, with the perfect emphasis, complete with appropriate punctuation, with a limited number of characters.
And Twitter was a place where I could find people I didn’t know, but wished I did.
Twitter was where I could hear the joyful voices of people whose Christianity was lived through bodies and settings and even theologies that differed from mine. It was also where I could hear the raw voices of those who had left Christian faith, or were working through the pain of staying.
It was where I could curate a reliable, accurate newsfeed that told me about Ukraine, long before the world started paying attention.
Awfully thankful for that feed this year.
Twitter was clever and fun. It carried a wild diversity of voices.
There’s the pun-guy, who is also so kind and respectful to those who disagree with him.
There’s the one who reminds us every day that we are loved, and that Resurrection Day approaches.
The one who sketched us all into her Thanksgiving dinner.
That guy who knew my sister-in-law from a long time ago, and we both like words, so we crossed paths again in this space.
This pastor.
Leaders. People no one knew. Scientists. Authors. Advocates. Journalists. Politicians.
People celebrated births, and grieved deaths, and held space for each other. People dialogued around really difficult ideas, and then made hilarious jokes that were only funny in the Twitter-verse.
I found Beth Moore on Twitter. To this day, I gasp at her humour and grace in the most trying of seasons. She is a far better woman than I.
Last summer, I started pulling away. I’m still there, but less so. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s Twitter, but I just had a nagging sense that it wasn’t so good for my soul anymore.
And now no one knows what will happen next, and I’m sad, because I don’t want to lose all your voices. Many of you feel like friends to me. Far from being an echo-chamber, you’ve stretched my thinking, so much.
You’ve shaped me.
Thank you.
I’m watching for those of you who have substacks and podcasts and books, so I don’t lose you. Feel free to drop recommendations in the … well, wherever you drop stuff in Substack.
I haven’t left Twitter yet; haven’t decided. I might still see you over there from time to time.
Maybe I’ll write here sometimes. Probably for fun. Subscribe if you like.
*waves, smiling brightly at no one in particular, and sneaks out the door*
I found you on twitter, reluctantly posting for my workplace because I was told I needed to tweet more. I’m so glad I did! I write to God every morning about how I’m afraid to share my words and I think this post has really helped me!