state of the substack
where’s all this going?
The short answer is that I don’t really know what I’m doing here these days, what my vision is for posting my words on the internet, what I’m even trying to do with my directionless little Instagram account.
Lately, I’ve been using this Substack mostly as public therapy. It’s not been an intentional change in direction, and I don’t think these personal reflections are the lane I really want to stay in.
But I feel like every time I sit down to write these days, I have something on my mind that I want to process about my own feelings, growth, or progress.
And it’s hard to move on to writing about anything else until I get that down on the page. Plus, I do wonder if there are people who are working through similar seasons who might benefit from reading my attempts to sort through it all.
I feel certain that there are others—especially women my age, especially people who grew up in evangelical contexts—who are wiped out.
We’re nearing forty, and life hasn’t quite turned out like the dreams we dreamed on the kindergarten rug or the promises that were promised us in Sunday school and youth group.
We played the game, followed the rules, got our degrees, started our lives and our families, but we still have nothing figured out.
We thought we’d have it all figured out long ago, but it turns out we still don’t.
And this is the age of realizing we never will.
(Why didn’t the grown-ups tell us about this? Why did they tell us the opposite from their podiums and pulpits, making us think that life was a game we could win? Maybe because half of the people who ‘discipled’ us were in their twenties and believed it too? 🤔)
But, per usual, I digress.
There’s just so much to process! And maybe this is a place to do it. Maybe for some of you reading, this makes you feel less alone. (If so, let me know, and then I’ll feel less alone too!)
But my existential angst isn’t really where I want to devote my words.
What I really want to write about is what soothes that angst again and again.
But I get more than a little self-conscious stating plainly what that is because, in a word, it’s Jesus.
What I really want to write about is the hope that I somehow have (most of the time).
What I really want to write about is Jesus, who, for me, is undeniably the source of that hope.
What I really want to write about is how God often feels closer and more tangible than ever before. About the Spirit burning in my chest and the sweetness I find in the challenging beauty and truth of Jesus Christ.
But, you see, I am very afraid of being a corny and annoying cheeseball. I am very afraid of sounding (or being) naive. I’m desperately afraid of speaking from my lone vantage point and neglecting to account for others in a way that leads to harm or offense.
The world is full of corny and annoying cheeseball Christian writers. And I’ve spent most of my adulthood untangling from the effects of unhelpful—and even harmful—Christian writing and speaking. And I don’t want to contribute another word to any of that.
Yet—what my heart longs to write about, day after day, is the way I love Jesus. The way I meet Him in Scripture. The way Jesus reveals to me the goodness of God. The way, more and more, I feel the Spirit’s nearness.
But I’m not always sure how to do that. And I feel like I need to preface and disclaim all through my writing, making sure I’m open about all my doubts, struggles, and questions.
Because I want to earn the trust of those who doubt, struggle, and question too. I am one of them. And I want my writing to create a safe space for them to land, like other writers and songwriters have made for me.
Sometimes I want to speak in solidarity with the deconstruction of my generation. I want to rant and rave against the many wrongs and abuses of the church, of the scourge of Christian nationalism. I have plenty of grievances I’d like to nail to plenty of doors about our damaging theologies and dogmas, our politics and power-grabbing, our fear and control masquerading as faith.
But, really, I don’t want to spend all my time there either.
I believe that sounding the alarm on what needs to change is good and important work, and I’m grateful that others are speaking out. After all, what is the church without reformation? (This Lutheran girl asks you!)
But dwelling in the deconstruction space, while I respect it through and through, makes me sad. And angry.
I find that I don’t want to write about all that’s broken. I want to write about what makes me whole, about the One who makes me believe that wholeness is possible because He exemplifies it and because He offers it abundantly.
I don’t want to write Christian propaganda, but I do want to write about Christ.
About faith and how it keeps tenderly holding on to me, how it keeps surprising me by showing up again and again.
I want to write about how endlessly fascinating I find the Bible and why. I want to tell you the stories that have captured my imagination and my heart forever, the people on the pages who make me feel that God is and that He is good.
I can’t get enough of Jesus or of the Word that reveals Him. I can’t get enough of songs and books and podcasts and people making Him known.
So, that’s what I really, more than anything, want to do here. I want to continue the conversations other thinkers are starting. I want to share their songs, tell you about the books that are helping me make peace in my sometimes turbulent faith.
I want to share the Bible the way I see it now, not the way it’s been presented to me for much of my life. I want to share the journey that’s brought me here, invite you to walk along from here and continue talking it all through together.
I want to share the light that keeps getting through the cracks, the little revelations of God that I see as I’m seeking Him and finding once again that He’s nearer than my breath, finding once again that I’m held in Him, absolutely surrounded.1
Is that corny and cheeseball?
Is it unbelievable?
Even if, is it worth writing anyway?
I don’t normally do the online writer thing, the “let me know in the comments” bit. But this post is an invitation. Go ahead, let me know in the comments.
Tell me if there’s an aspect of what you’ve read here that keeps you coming back. Let me know what you’re longing to hear, longing to read, longing for someone to put into words. Do you want more posts about the Bible, more theology, more teaching? Do you like audio posts that you can listen to? Would you like to see some video? Should I just open up my Bible and open up my camera and ramble (I mean teach)?
Even as I aim for more focus here, there will still likely be a few detours. For one, I have a political(ish) post in the queue that still has me hovering uncertainly over the “publish” button. For another, I’m sure I’ll still overshare my current state of mind from time to time. I don’t think I can avoid it.
But I do have some ideas of where things might be headed next—
more Bible and whatever kind of amateur exegesis it is that I love to do so much
more sharing of books and songs (I do so much curation for myself; can I be a curator for you too?)
more pouring out of my heart and my faith with (I hope) less worrying if I come off cheesy or out of touch or stuck in wishful thinking.
If you have any requests, dear reader, let me know. Thanks for being here, this weird little diary of mine posted so anyone in the world can see it if they want to.
my current de facto mission statement:
More of you please. More audio and video! More getting to hear your actual voice and the passion behind your words. More of you sharing how God meets you and where and what it does inside of you and how it wants to come out. More of that please ☺️❤️
I love your questioning heart Natalie! Top of mind for me these days is struggling through this political minefield. What would Jesus do? How do I discern a Christ-like response to the political BS? I look forward to your insights, struggles and questions! Right there with you sister!