Friday, November 19, 2010

Those Who Live In Glass Houses...

Over the last couple of days I've been sputtering about a blogger who did something rude to a friend of mine and then wrote an even ruder post about it on his blog impugning my friend's knowledge and spiritual maturity, all the while boasting of his own. The fact of the matter is that the only one who actually exhibited maturity during the incident was my friend. When some folks called him to task for the rudeness of his post, he gave replies that told them that they could just stop reading his posts, he wasn't a noble Christian.

I'm speculating that he received a few too many non-supportive replies to his post because he removed it. Or maybe his mom, or his pastor, or someone wiser than he read the post and took him to task. Of course, nothing is ever gone from the net, really. So his lack of charity, recorded by him for posterity, is cached away out there forever. Which is kind of the point of the post. That whole thing about how living in glass houses should keep you from throwing stones, yeah, this is where that applies.

Because the minute you start blogging, you construct glass walls that allow the world to see into your life. And when you say you are a Christian, what you write will be seen as proof one way or the other. What that blogger (who claims Christianity) did was to witness poorly. He passed up a chance to show grace, which is something we should be actively seeking to exhibit.

Which reminds me of what I think of as the cardinal rules of blogging. First, use the delete key more frequently than the "publish post" tab. Second, don't be in such a rush to publish that you fail to seek counsel. And third, ask yourself how you'll be heard - does anyone really need to be lectured by you?

Throughout the last seven years of the Anglican Angst, there have been many times where I've written emails and left the "To" line blank. Or I've run what I'd like to write past close friends and then either hit the delete button or edited heavily. Now and again, though, I confess to having sent something that I shouldn't have. Because frequently what I want to say and what I should say are two vastly different things. And once said, it's out there for ever. Which means it's been seen, and glass houses don't exactly provide a great place to hide.