Death of personal blogging
You know that feeling you get when you are coming to the end of an epic tale or series? You’re 50 pages away from the end of the last Harry Potter book, and it’s a sinking “I don’t want this to end” awareness. Over the past few years, I’ve had that sense about blogging. The personal blogs of friends, fellow pastors and others that I follow are like old friends that have passed away. Their URLs are quiet now, just sitting there dead in cyberspace.
It’s been a gradual death, too, which makes its reality more unsettling. It’s been like watching the plague advance across the digital landscape, .com by .com. It began with the death of linkage and continued to the pandemic we see today.
I used to look forward every few days to a full RSS feed. My Google Reader would shout “12 unread,” and in my down moments, I’d happily consume the material from these feeds, responding with a comment here or there. But now, those feeds are silent. I’ve noticed their digital deaths with an unsettling feeling that their exit from the blogosphere signals something bigger that our society has embraced.
Here’s my theory. People don’t blog any longer because they post a status update. It’s easier to blast short, content-poor updates than it is to create a paragraph with thoughtfulness. Enter Twitter and Facebook and exit personal blogging.
I, for one, think our society is poorer for it. We are aiding our own mental deaths and our inability to process current events when we turn from true writing.
If you have a blog, go now and administer KTD (keyboard to dashboard) and resuscitate it with a quick post. Any post. Then link your post below in the comments. It may be that there’s some life left in it yet.
It’s less than two weeks from Election 2012, and many of you are celebrating the future absence from your lives of political rants and opinions. As I’ve stated before, I love politics, and I love our country. I’m so appreciative for the liberties and opportunities that our democracy give us, particularly from the perspective of a Christian leader.
I’m almost done with Praying Life by Paul Miller, and I can’t speak highly enough about it. Come back here for a fuller review of it, but in the meantime, I can heartily recommend it.
He reminds us through personal anecdote and biblical proof that prayer is not our goal. A love relationship with God is our goal. To focus on the conversation is to miss the person. He proceeds to remind us (and I think everyone who reads this will feel more reminded than instructed) how to live daily with the Lord in prayer.
The book so far has been a huge encouragement for me, and I’m grateful for Katie Surratt who demanded that I read it. (By the way, Katie, you last blogged in March. Please administer KTD.)