What does it look like to pick up the mic?
A couple of things have mucked up my regular weekly Substack writing schedule.
First, squirrel wars. May God strike the neighbor’s black walnut tree with lightning so that it ceases to exist, preferably when all the neighborhood squirrels are in it. I can’t say much more; it’s been severe battle conditions to save my plants, pumpkins, potted bulbs, and sanity. But I’m serious about this occupying way too much of my time.
Secondly, and more importantly, picking up the mic.
I’m still mulling over Charlie Kirk’s assassination, and am now at the part where I have to consider what it will mean in my life going forward, or if I’ll just buy the bumper sticker and move on.
I know some young men are going to colleges and setting up a table and tent like Charlie did, even taking significant abuse and still maintaining calm. Some of the older fellows, like Steven Crowder and Ben Shapiro (perhaps Dinesh D’Souza will do it again as well?), who used to set up a table or speak in college auditoriums, are dusting off their travel plans and leaving the podcast studio for the campus quad.
The answer isn’t for everyone to mimic Charlie exactly, though. Not unless God has specifically called you to do that. Saying “I Am Charlie” is obviously not a call to become automatons or Stepford Wives, but to something more. I surmise it is a statement that says one or several of the following in the heart of the person who has said it:
I will not stay silent and will speak up about the truth even if people are abusive. I will have courage.
I will not be ashamed of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and will not soften its reality to attract sinners.
I will speak with clarity of purpose and live my life that way as well.
I will study and educate myself so that I can better understand God’s truth and the world I live in, enabling me to have thoughtful conversations.
I will do hard things and find joy in them.
I’m sure there could be more to that list. That’s my initial quick guess.
Two years ago, my mom told me she missed the Bible studies we’d done during the pandemic, where the women in my family worked through a study together and shared it privately online. That, and other thoughts, have been nagging at me all that time, gently pressing me to do some kind of study group for family and very close friends.
I did not do it.
I’m busy. I’m not feeling up to it. I’m weary. I’m tired. I’m operating in failure. I have too many failure-to-launch projects I can’t bear to start another. There are better places to get online instruction. What would I know I’m just an art major. It’s going to be a lot of work and I don’t know if it would make a difference. I need to focus on earning income not creating free content. I have other projects hanging over my head to get done. Etc.
I can find an excuse and word it so persuasively that I can convince myself it is true. I’m annoyed about that. So here we are, inching up on almost a month after Charlie’s death, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Not only has the nagging increased, but a few people in my family have innocently asked for my help in some things, which indicates they might be open to this idea.
Over the next three months, I’ve planned a syllabus for a private study group for my family and close friends who are interested in this endeavor. I will work at creating videos, audio files, worksheets, graphics, and lead discussions. By next Monday, I have to figure out my screen recording software and get a video done, and write up three worksheets with additional resources. I’m going to have to manage my time, as this will happen every week until mid-December. It’s a lot of writing and thinking, yet I still intend to get back on schedule here on Substack so paying subscribers don’t feel cheated.
I just wanted to let you know, as a reader, why the schedule got so wonky in September.
September turned into a massive retrench, and while it feels like I’m behind the curve on what seems to be a very heavy load of content creation looming ahead, I’m going to step out in faith that I should do it, that God can help me do it, and that he’ll take care of my bills.
Rest assured, Substack readers, I have a draft post for next week nearly done. It’s weird, odd, and what you’ve come to expect. I haven’t abandoned you.