I began this blog over a dozen years ago, and I began in anger. The world seemed to be just stupidly turning gears, and I ordained myself a thrower of sand. So I called my new blog “Sand in the Gears.” Clever of me, no?
But my arms grew tired, and the world was no better, and I was making it worse, for myself and for people I care about the most. Lately it occurs to me that the world veers deeper into darkness not because it is a great machine steered by nefarious overlords, but because it has been sundered. All around us are ruins, no matter how many gleaming buildings we erect in this “Christ-forgetting Christ-haunted death-dealing Western world.” The world has been sundered and it does not need me to hurl sand at its crumbling edifice. I have been sundered, and I have no heart left for throwing things.
So instead I’ll try just to write a few small truths. Like how we live in ruins and that there is hope in those ruins and this hope is born of love. A writer could do worse than write the truth, I suppose.
Now, for the mundane things you were probably expecting before you stubbed your toe on my manifestella. (But seriously, if you think this is bad, you should check out that ebook my website keeps trying to shove down your throat.)
I live in North Carolina, and I am, as you may have surmised, a writer. My essays are often here, and if not, I do my best to link to them elsewhere. I also write fiction, which has appeared in various literary journals. I have a novel and a children’s story seeking homes. On occasion I do speaking engagements, depending on location and timing and how much investment you want to make in my kids’ college funds.
Yes, somebody decided I should be allowed to have children. I have six sons who are living, a daughter who is dead, and a wife who inexplicably thinks I am something special. All around are ruins, but also there is grace, yes?
Over the years I’ve gotten offers of cash and requests to burn in hell for the filthy heretic I am, so feel free to drop me a line; I doubt anything you say will be all that offensive, and it’s nice to know somebody is listening.