All of my newsletters have been happy digressions. Places to unwind and let it all go. Maybe this is why it must end—I’ve discovered my dislike for blogs, and anything like blogs, and have seen the enemy and discovered the blogginess within. More than that—the newsletters end today because, good or bad, there is a time for everything to come to a close. My letters spanning a ten-year period to my beloved accountant somehow came to a close. I don’t think we really know what makes us certain it’s time to shut off the lights and quietly close the door. We just know.

Yet, even in this, my newsletter swansong, I will not go quietly. You know me better than that. I’ll go out with a holler, like Denzel Washington’s primal roar in Glory when he grabbed the flag and turned around and bellowed, “COME ON!” I hope to go out in such a way that my two subjects may incur enough Peeved Mail (it’s not Hate Mail when it comes from a Christian) to rival the Love Wins bumper sticker feedback.

And if my newsletters have seemed all guns and not roses, blasting away at cultural oddities that rankle (me), at least my friends will know me for the merry pessimist that I am. I am a cheerful cynic, as happy to point out foibles as I am to discover them. Maybe that’s another reason the newsletters should end. I’ve grown overfond of the whole glorious business of hailing absurdity. It’s not nice of me. It ain’t genteel.

Two issues will be addressed, as I holler Geronimo, hopefully with as much economy as I can bear: Blogs and the Emergent Church.

On Blogs: one question: Why?

I’ve developed a fondness for not knowing every excruciating detail of another person’s life, especially if I don’t know them well, and especially if they encourage me to read their blogs. See, I really don’t care to. Let me wonder. Let me ask. Be a little mysterious to me. I’m developing my own intrigue for flying under the radar, and not barfing every crumb of my life onto a worldwide serving platter.

Why the need to spill every last gooey drop of our guts on the World Wide Frickin’ Web? Where is the dignity, I ask? It’s an interesting dichotomy; current culture continually backs us into a solitary corner. We abandon the tribal instinct of community—we live in an increasingly withdrawn world where we pull away from the campfire because it’s too darned uncomfortable sitting next to real life people…the dichotomy is we back silently and willingly away, only to fling every single detail of our best and worst selves on a universal billboard. Why do we get overfascinated about how someone trudged through their morning? Why are we so fascinated with ourselves that we want people to read about how we scrubbed the toilets or told off the bank teller or endured hate and scrutiny? Why do blogs make me grumpy? I think, and I’m likely overspiritualizing, it’s because the Kingdom of God isn’t in a blog. It’s at the campfire. It’s in the people, folks. Look into their eyes and you’ll find the Kingdom of God. You won’t find it on a computer screen, sopping up every tallied detail of someone’s daily life or thoughts. Doesn’t work that way. God made it like that on purpose.

We wish to make others responsible to read our blogs in order to keep up with our lives; doesn’t seem right, somehow.

So it’s time for me to shut this party down because partly because these newsletters felt bloggy. I can’t see your eyes, and you didn’t ask for my opinions. So I’m going off on a Vision Quest, a permanent Walkabout where I hope to look people in the eyes a little more, hope to entertain angels unaware. Words on a page are encouraging, and words are how I make some pocket change. But I’ll only dabble in them because the Kingdom of God isn’t in words…it’s in the people. Always in the people. Blogs will never make up for a visit, a phone conversation, a personal email.

I reckon this is a good time for my favorite quote: Every poet and musician and artist, but for Grace, is drawn away from love of the thing he tells, to love of the telling, till, down in Deep Hell, they cannot be interested in God at all but only in what they say about Him. –C.S. Lewis.

So. I’ve covered blah-blah-Blogs. And don’t hate me if you’re a passionate blogger; I’m still into people.

Time for the “Emergent Church.” What a term. About as notorious to me as “Seeker Friendly.” (I’m not looking to make friends in this town, am I.)

When the phrase “Emergent Church” came on the scene several years ago, it had a vague remembrance about it; like something I had once tasted and found unpleasant. Hard to define my feeling on it, hard to nail down the elusive dislike. So I did what I always do in situations like that: I forgot about it and went on my merry way.

Not one to miss a chance to rant, especially when it’s my last chance, here’s my nickel in the pot: The Emergent Church is the Church That Has Always Been Like It Or Not. It’s that remnant of folks you’ll find in every corner of institutionalized Christianity, Catholic or Protestant. It’s the sleeping giant just realizing he or she has been asleep; it’s the mercy of God coming to a long-time churchgoer, or to the next generation of a long-time churchgoer.

It’s scales dropping off the eyes of nobody in particular.

It’s not New Christianity. It’s simply, as Rich Mullins said, the plain old truth getting dearer every day. Why should we fancy it up, reinvent it, recast it, repaint it, make it Seeker Friendly, make it palatable? Make it cool? We’re not fooling anyone. We’re only wasting time. We’re only distracted.

The Emergent Church is nothing new. Even as a formal denomination, the thought processes are not new. Don’t believe me? Read a few church history books. You’ll see it’s just history playing itself out again. Seems like the first person to holler multi-culturalism or Seeker Friendly or tolerance or intolerance gets a badge or something. Big deal. We get to worshipping tolerance and excellence and holiness and emergence and Seeker Friendly more than God.

Instead of vilifying the denominations from whence we came, let’s take a look and see if God is there. Let’s look and see if someone else therein is interested in Jesus, in that Kingdom he talked about. Chances are we’ll find them. Chances are we’ll see beauty if we look hard enough. Instead of rising up all pissed off at the dregs we’ve stewed in, let’s see who else is stewing next to us. Let’s strike up a conversation. Let’s stop trying to see who can be the coolest. There are none of us cool, not one. And if we do wake up a little, and see stuff that is wrong, let’s not equate people with that wrongness. I’ve done that too many times. I still do it, and feel bad about it, and try not to do it. Our fight isn’t against flesh and blood. Says so in Ephesians.

Yeah, yeah—I know there’s more to the Emergent Church than that. Good and bad. At the worst it’s a call to Universalism. At best, it’s a call to believers to wake up and be renewed in the Holy Spirit. I reckon these things go on all the time, decade after decade, without the new term for it. And that’s all I have to say about the Emergent Church.

I guess this is good-bye. You might see me kickin’ down the cobblestones, looking for fun and feeling groovy. I’ll be working for the next couple years on my magnum opus, so that’ll keep me busy and hopefully out of trouble. In case you’re interested, it’s a modern-day impressionistic stylistic fictionalized historical retelling of the Great Reformation. In other words, as Thomas Merton said, Oh Lord my God I have no idea where I’m going—much less what I’m doing. It’s all in the journey, people. I’ll figure it out as I go.

So good night, and good luck.

And Godspeed.

And if I may, let me pronounce an old-fashioned blessing over you: May you ever
seek the Kingdom of God…and may you find it everywhere you go.

Groot—out.

>> Read more from the files of Tracy Groot at TracyGroot.com/newsletters.shtml.