CRITICAL ME
I am plodding through the writing of this book manuscript of devotionals for urban ministers. In concept, I have a pretty strong idea of what I want to say, but the details of putting one word after another and one page after the other isn't coming so smoothly. One of the snags I'm hitting is that I'm realizing how critical I can be, in a way that is not helpful to the Kingdom or to the reader.
To be specific, I want to communicate how great and glorious urban ministry and discipleship can be. That it is no sacrifice to live in the world's urban slums and inner cities. That ethnic and socio-economic diversity is a beautiful thing, not a dirtiness to be avoided. And that where metropolises are falling apart has just as much to do with the ignorant decisions and selfish intentions of the upper- and middle-class as it has to do with the sinful patterns and bad decisions of the lower class.
But when I read my work, I see how it seethes with a critical edge. I am not so deluded to think that I am innocent of participating in systemic evil and institutional racism. If anything, my criticalness comes from being clued into the guilt on my own head. I sinfully hold myself in higher regard than those less "enlightened" in the dynamics of race and urban policy, even though I myself have much to learn in these areas.
So how to enlighten in my writings, and to call attention to ways in which decisions that we make that we think are so innocent and even noble are actually contributing to the destruction of cities, institutions, and people -- without coming across as having a chip on my shoulder, scorning those who dare flee cities or who want to have nothing to do with them in the first place? I don't know. I'm just reporting what I've observed as I've read over my manuscript, as a red flag about my own sinfulness and prejudice, and as a present barrier in my ability to complete this book idea. God, forgive me for my self-righteousness and judgeful attitudes. May this book not be a sinful rant about present city-haters, but a righteous call to future city-lovers.
I am plodding through the writing of this book manuscript of devotionals for urban ministers. In concept, I have a pretty strong idea of what I want to say, but the details of putting one word after another and one page after the other isn't coming so smoothly. One of the snags I'm hitting is that I'm realizing how critical I can be, in a way that is not helpful to the Kingdom or to the reader.
To be specific, I want to communicate how great and glorious urban ministry and discipleship can be. That it is no sacrifice to live in the world's urban slums and inner cities. That ethnic and socio-economic diversity is a beautiful thing, not a dirtiness to be avoided. And that where metropolises are falling apart has just as much to do with the ignorant decisions and selfish intentions of the upper- and middle-class as it has to do with the sinful patterns and bad decisions of the lower class.
But when I read my work, I see how it seethes with a critical edge. I am not so deluded to think that I am innocent of participating in systemic evil and institutional racism. If anything, my criticalness comes from being clued into the guilt on my own head. I sinfully hold myself in higher regard than those less "enlightened" in the dynamics of race and urban policy, even though I myself have much to learn in these areas.
So how to enlighten in my writings, and to call attention to ways in which decisions that we make that we think are so innocent and even noble are actually contributing to the destruction of cities, institutions, and people -- without coming across as having a chip on my shoulder, scorning those who dare flee cities or who want to have nothing to do with them in the first place? I don't know. I'm just reporting what I've observed as I've read over my manuscript, as a red flag about my own sinfulness and prejudice, and as a present barrier in my ability to complete this book idea. God, forgive me for my self-righteousness and judgeful attitudes. May this book not be a sinful rant about present city-haters, but a righteous call to future city-lovers.
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