To Care or Not To Care

Okay can I just say before we begin that I'm writing this and not Real Live Preacher? That way you won't expect it to be so good. Because everything Real Live Preacher writes is supposed to be all meaningful and touching and deep and all that. And I can't write as good as he does. You know, so it might help me relax a bit if I could just say that right up front.

Thanks, you're great.

I don't know exactly when it happened, but somewhere along the way this Real Live Preacher character took over this weblog. I was right here when it happened, and even I can't say how or when it took place.

It wasn't a hostile takeover or anything. He just pushed me out. Now there's not much left of me except for the occasional post about silly things like the George Foreman Grill, Toilet Golf, or raccoon infestations.

Oh, and whenever there's whining about too much email, that would be me. You think Real Live Preacher answers email? Don’t make me laugh. Any email gets answered around here, it’s me doin it.

Let me tell you what Real Live Preacher does. He comes into MY HOUSE whenever he wants, pushes me aside, and starts writing a hundred miles an hour. I'm talking about WHENEVER he wants. And I'm supposed to stand aside and let Mr. CreAAAAtive have my computer.

He works like a freakin madman for a couple of hours and then leaves. He says, "You don't mind cleaning that up a bit before you post it, do you Sport?"

He calls me "Sport!" Can you believe that?

Then he walks out the door without even waiting to see if I say yes. Because he knows I'll say yes. He knows I can't face you without him.

[In a quiet whisper] I don't know if you've noticed this, but a LOT of people come to read this weblog. Seriously, something like a million, billion people. Or so I hear. Okay, maybe 1500 to 2000 every day. Think about that. I do. I think about it. When I think about how many people are reading Real Live Preacher I imagine all of you in a big crowd and me handing out sheets of paper to everyone.

"Hi everyone, thanks for coming. Here's my latest thing. One for you, and you, and you…"

And then I imagine myself sitting in front of the whole mob in a small folding chair with my hands in my lap and my legs together so that my ankles touch each other and so do my knees. And I have to watch while all of you read my stuff. Some of you give me a thumbs up, which is nice. A few crazy people act like I'm the greatest writer ever, which is obviously not true, so I get a little suspicious of those guys.

There's this group of Christians who sit together and read everything I write and tear it apart to examine the theology behind it. I want to tell them that I'm a writer first and a theologian second. And only a junior theologian at that. But I speak softly, and they don't ever seem to hear me. I'm a descriptive theologian, meaning I describe my own theology. I'm not prescribing it for anyone else. What do I know about God words?

Then every once in awhile someone will walk up to my little folding chair and spit right in my face. Just last week a man was shaking with anger about something I wrote A WHOLE YEAR AGO about homosexuality and the bible. I know he just read it the day before, but I wrote it so long ago. And while I was trying to remember exactly what I wrote, he said that more than anything in the world he wanted to "bash me in the head with a baseball bat."

A baseball bat! Dude wants to hit me in the head with it. Does that suck, or what? I'm actually quite interested in this guy. If I could be sure that he left his bat at home, I might even like to talk to him.

That's what it's like when a whole bunch of people read your stuff. It scares the hell out of you. What if your writing suddenly sucked? What if it turned out you were a fake or a flash-in-the-pan or something? What if you were some kind of freakish guy who woke up one morning and could write, to his great surprise, and then just as suddenly couldn't write anymore? Which would not surprise him a bit, by the way.

What if you did your best and then TOLD PEOPLE IT WAS THE BEST YOU COULD DO? Did you hear that? Admitting that you did your best to a mob of people and then standing around to see what they have to say about it.

I don't think so. Not in this life.

That's why I need Real Live Preacher. He's not afraid of anyone, not even the baseball bat guy. He LIKES to sit in front of a mob of people while they read his stuff. The more the merrier.

"This is the best I can do," he shouts to everyone. "Take it or leave it."

Cocky sonuvabitch!

He cares, but he also doesn't care, if you know what I mean. He cares and doesn't care in just the right way. That’s why I need him. I need that perfect balance of caring and not caring.

Me? I also care and don't care, but I get those two mixed up all the time. I care when I shouldn't and don't care when I should. That's my biggest problem, by the way. I have a real problem with caring and not caring.

Sometimes I find myself thinking about the "Baseball Bat Guy" and the "Theology of Real Live Preacher People." Just staring into space and thinking about them and trying to sort out what I care about and what I don't care about.

I really don't know what to say to anyone about this.

me

© Copyright 2005 Preacher. Last update: 7/17/2005; 8:23:50 PM. Links