“… a time for every activity under heaven.” [Ecclesiastes 3: 1]
Every good story starts off with a memorable catch. “Once upon a time;” “In the beginning;” “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…”
My story starts here, and no words struck me more as a place to begin something than the first verse of the third chapter of the Book of Ecclesiastes. If you aren’t of a Biblical persuasion – and by no means am I a man who knows his scripture backwards and forwards – then perhaps the old song “To Everything There Is a Season” (or “Turn! Turn! Turn!”) as sung by The Byrds will be more familiar to you than the first eight verses of Ecclesiastes 3.
The season of my life is one of steadiness, mixed with restlessness. It’s been ten months and three days since my wife and I were married; we’re in the process of planning for a move, preparing for our first anniversary, envisioning our future. We’re forging onward – still learning about one another, excited for what’s to come, nervous about challenges we may face. Steady. Restless.
I’ve been working at my day job for eight years and nine months. Each week, the same routine for more than half that time, numbers and spreadsheets and paperwork, and repeat. New responsibilities bring opportunity coupled with frustration. Steady. Restless.
I came to my faith and my place of worship twenty-eight years ago, alongside my father, my mother, my then-infant sister. I’ve seen friends come and go; old mentors pass and new mentors awaken; leadership and staff and music and liturgy change and return. And I’ve found my yearning for truth wax and wane, season upon season. Steady. Restless.
A time to plant. A time to build up. A time to search. All part of the Ecclesiastical call of my life.
But also, as Ecclesiastes 3: 7 writes, a time to speak.
A few years ago, I had thought it the right time to launch into what I thought was a groundbreaking new video game project. Something no one else was doing. I’d been writing for friends and for like-minded websites for a few years prior to that, but I thought I could add something new to the games press landscape. I pressed forward, thinking myself bold and ready for an undertaking that, I felt, was going to be not just a new professional challenge, but a profitable career path buoyed by my own doings and of my own making.
I wasn’t ready. I didn’t do the proper research, I didn’t put in the requisite effort, I wasn’t able to give a full commitment.
Today, I’m ready to begin something different. That other project, which, perhaps one day, will be a part of my larger story, was grand in design. What I’m setting out upon now is not so – yet perhaps it is grander in other ways.
This is my time to speak. I want to share my life with the world. It is a life that is, by no means, perfect. It’s a messy life. It’s a mistake-filled life. It’s a life that probably has little to do with the lives of those reading about it. It’s a life you may not want for yourself. It may even be a mundane life, a simple life, an ordinary life. But it’s all I have. My life. Sharing it, sharing things that make me who I am – my passions, my hobbies, the things I do and the things I see – are unlikely to be world-changing or thought-provoking. But one thing I’ve found is that the more we share our worldview and experiences, what gives us joy, the easier it is to relate to one another in spite of a world that’s so often torn asunder by what divides.
This blog is no grand experiment. It’s not going to be a money-maker. No, it is smaller, more personal, intimate in a way that I’m not used to. It’s new.
There are few guarantees in this life, and certainly fewer which all people hold true to bear. I cannot guarantee that this blog will be updated daily, though that is one of the goals. Weekly, at first? We’ll see. Perhaps I’ll expand to video content, or audio. Maybe my wife will be involved and write a bit herself. I might ask a friend to co-write something with me, or be a guest.
The idea is intentional. My intention is to invite people into my life. Life is better when lived together. If I can’t be with you where you are, I can invite you to be with me where I am – and let’s be honest, most of the time, that means online. So welcome.
Are you ready?