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Everything within me is fighting the urge to delete majority of my older posts. I could, and I might-- take down the ones I don't necessarily agree with anymore, the ones where I know for a fact that I was trying too hard, the ones that I was awfully proud of and now two years later looking back judge myself for ever daring to be. (I also, have since taken three writing classes, I read a whole lot more and have seen my faith take on new beautiful and refreshing forms)

It's a sort of self-sacrificing thing, to have a blog or write a book or be interviewed. It's like a self sabotage because what if you don't think  the same thing the next day, what if you feel like a fraud and a fake. What if you improve in ways that your old posts wouldn't give away to? But we do it anyway, you know? 

I started this blog two years ago, unsure if anyone read blogs or wrote them for that matter and looking at my very first post, I now see that I didn't even introduce it. I guess I imagined the bio would suffice, that my "reputation" would precede me and people would know what sort of content to expect. But people read, and read and shared and even left comments here and there- thank you. 

This blog has been one of my stunted projects and it is sad to think that I consider this, literal letting in of you all into my mind as a project. The vulnerable act that it is to write to an unknown (sort of) invisible audience about delicate things of the heart and of God. I always have thought of what a privilege it is to be able to dare talk about God like a best friend, whose favorite color I know and a Father, who cherishes and delights in me and my bu posts but it was all (for the most part, maybe two posts exclusive) too chirpy. 

There was this looming sense of Christian optimism. The subtle, "everything will be alright just believe" theme sprinkled in the paragraphs. The "there is no such thing as a bad day" bad theology tucked in the sentences, as if Christ on the cross was nice and pretty.  There was a kind of sentimentality-- hope overly glorified, a subtle self-righteousness (we do this a lot, Christians). This is at least what I feel like it was. Speaking about hardship vaguely, addressing nameless sin calling things as they are as if it would make God cower and run away. The posts meant a lot to me at the time, please understand. I meant them, and that is what was on my heart- then.

I praise God for the encouragement the readers experienced through and because of  the posts, the people that were provoked (though I now find them hardly piercing), and the hope that was restored. That's the goal. To challenge and to heal, or at least be vessels for those two things. 

I hadn't been here in a while and that frankly is what has been on my mind. In a way, this is my way to remember my flimsy non-committal desire to start writing publicly and to sort of re-orient myself and prepare you. Thank you faithful readers and I truly anticipate being even more raw and honest with you in the future. 

             "No bad day? What kind of bad theology is that?"- my literature professor.