I wish I had more for you today.
It’s Tuesday, which means you’re supposed to get a “paid” post. The pressure sometimes, then, is to try and write something “really good.” Some especially spiritual insight from my morning abiding time with Jesus.
And there’s pressure to write “something really good” because at this point this little blog, with these daily emails, is my only means of trying to bring in any sort of income as I finish seminary and get ready for my book launch. (Side note: “Book launch” sounds all sexy, but the truth is it’s not a money-maker unless you’re Joel Osteen or James Patterson.) I have much more to lose than to gain. As a friend recently told me, quoting her husband, “It’s really expensive to be an author.”
Tell me about it.
And for some reason, the waves hit me this morning. The doubts. The “vanity, vanity all is vanity.” The questions, the frustrations, the anger. The injustice.
As my wife recovers from a major surgery—another side effect of a car accident two and half years ago and a host of autoimmune diseases—much slower than we expected.
As God keeps telling me “just trust” him as I beg for some sort of sign about what comes next.
As I wade through people telling me that I need to be quiet about certain aspects of my story because it makes them uncomfortable—and they perceive it makes them look bad. Or something.
As I want to just sell everything and run away to a “simpler life,” whatever that means.
As the words of friends and family members that have stung me in the past play like a Spotify list on repeat in my head. And the words of my worst critic—myself—join in like three-part harmony.
This is the point where I give you the “but God” part, right? Where I tell you I’m still focused on all he’s doing. Where I tell you he’s still got me and I feel that. Because who wants to read the hard parts, the hard stuff, like this? “You’ve got to give them hope.”
But I can’t muster that right now.
Don’t get me wrong, that’s all true. There is hope. I know that. I’ve told you that plenty of times before. But I don’t feel that this morning. Instead I feel the weight of the circumstances. The weight of the uncertainty. The weight of the waiting. And I’ve promised you I’m not going to give you fake.
After all, this is a place for the downtrodden, the desperate, the destitute, and the depressed. (Also the drunk.) If you want contrived happiness and “Let’s goooooo!” with a splash of prosperity gospel, a “fit check,” and a discount code with an affiliate link for some “Jesus merch,” you can follow just about any Christian influencer these days.
But I’m not giving you that.
I’m giving you real life. Where you don’t know what the next six days hold, let alone the next six months. Where your son asks, “Is mommy dying?” And where those closest to you hurt you. Deeply. Over and over and over again.
So sometimes that means you get the radically vulnerable part of the “bold, courageous, decisive, vulnerable storyteller”—the identity statement God gave me in the fall of 2023. Unsubscribe if that’s too raw. Please.
You don’t get the bold King Dvid, but rather the one that’s always talking about how hurt and confused and angry he is. This David, and this Jon:
I am bowed down and brought very low;
all day long I go about mourning.
My back is filled with searing pain;
there is no health in my body.
I am feeble and utterly crushed;
I groan in anguish of heart.All my longings lie open before you, Lord;
my sighing is not hidden from you.
My heart pounds, my strength fails me;
even the light has gone from my eyes.
My friends and companions avoid me because of my wounds;
my neighbors stay far away.
Those who want to kill me set their traps,
those who would harm me talk of my ruin;
all day long they scheme and lie.[…]
For I am about to fall,
and my pain is ever with me.
I confess my iniquity;
I am troubled by my sin.
Many have become my enemies without cause[b];
those who hate me without reason are numerous.
Those who repay my good with evil
lodge accusations against me,
though I seek only to do what is good.Lord, do not forsake me;
do not be far from me, my God.
Come quickly to help me,
my Lord and my Savior.
I once had someone very close to me tell me that they weren’t interested in reading these emails because they’re “not interested in reading how someone else works out their spiritual journey.”
Well, here I am. Working that out. And I’m going to give you all of it. The highs, the lows, the frustrations. When there are wins, I’ll call them out. When there are woes, I’ll make them clear.
Maybe you need that, too? Maybe in this world of fake you need flawed? Maybe in this world of humble brags you need humble pie.
I don’t know. Over 12,000 of you are here reading this now, so it seems like it. But maybe far less after this post.
Either way, that’s what you’re getting today. And if that’s all you can muster today too, or tomorrow, or this week, then know you have a friend in me.
And I’m not going to fake it.
—Jon
I remember the days of questioning everything about the book, thinking I had just wasted my time, thinking it would go nowhere, feeling like it was all for nothing. I think this must be some right of passage for an author.
Here’s the cure: if you are putting out the gospel of Jesus Christ, you are making an investment in eternity. You’re sending your treasures ahead to the bank in heaven. That is literally all that matters. And that is NOT vanity, that ads value to the world.
Additionally, don’t “try to put out good content”, that is backwards. Posting as a Christian comes from overflow, even as fruit on a branch comes from what the vine pushes. That’s why a branch never has to try to bear fruit, it just bears it out of the overflow of what the vine gave it.
And as for what people say to you that is discouraging, here is a two-fold approach: 1-Ask God if what they are saying has any truth to it, and if it does then seek to change. 2-Consider the source. If you want to be like the source, then listen to what they are saying. If you don’t want to be like the source, can’t see Jesus in them, then jettison what they say and move on.
Generally I’ve found that I can trust the wounds of a friend, and would rather have those wounds than kisses multiplied from an enemy source. Jesus, my Friend, was wounded for me, and I trust those wounds to save, heal, sanctify, justify and glorify me.
Hi Jonathon. We (brothers and sisters in Christ) all have our own story. If some don't want to hear yours (or mine), it's OK. Jesus works in many ways and uses many messengers. Rejoice when you hear from those who are blessed by what you share, and no reason to feel hurt if some are not so interested. I have just recently subscribed, and it may not be long term, but it has been good for me to hear what I've heard from you. Being honest is important; God is all true, and he desires the same in us. I've tried to follow that in my years of recovery. You have reminded me about it, and I have asked myself, are there places where I am not being honest with myself or others. Thank you for that. (Like others who read, I have also prayed for you.)