There are situations where death can be a blessing, but only in the sense that God uses or allows evil to work a greater triumph. Like the death of a dear saint in the pain of old age, ready to go home. Like Aslan and his death at the hands of the White Witch, or Christ’s own death on the cross. Caleb said at one point that death is just taking us to be with Christ. That is true, but that’s not the way it was intended. We were to fellowship with God by truly natural means; it is death that is unnatural, the result of a curse. And yet, Christ has taken the curse upon himself, and triumphed over death. Dying with him, we are raised to new life.

But I also believe there is an appropriate sorrow at death — in the case of beloved saints, merely at the separation, but with unbelievers the separation is eternal. That is worth grieving about. While everyone who rejects Christ gets what they want, it’s still a terrible, sorrowful result of the Fall. To repeat myself in a comment on Caleb’s post, while we trust and submit to God’s sovereign plan, it is not wrong to sorrow or attempt to change things (through evangelism, etc.).

But we live in God’s story, and we must tune our sense of humor to match his. Caleb made his case well in a follow-up comment: Eglon’s death is pretty funny. Yes, we can laugh at a dead man. But we can also sorrow. “The Lord is … not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Peter 3:9). And finally, we surely must not fear death. I close with a quote from the end of Pilgrim’s Progress:

“My Sword I give to him that shall succeed me in my Pilgrimage, and my Courage and Skill to him that can get it. My Marks and Scars I carry with me, to be a witness for me that I have fought his Battles who now will be my Rewarder.” When the day that he must go hence was come, many accompanied him to the Riverside, into which as he went he said, “Death, where is thy Sting?” And as he went down deeper he said, “Grave, where is thy Victory?” So he passed over, and all the Trumpets sounded for him on the other side.

This and Nathaniel’s post on audience have got me thinking and somewhat re-working my approach. In fact, this is an attempt at a short to medium post that puts forth a thought for consideration. Now there is, of course, an appropriate way to strategize and target your audience. That’s what this post is about. But targeting your audience doesn’t mean broadening your appeal¹ so much as knowing your audience, like Nat said, and producing good content.

As should be apparent, this is really just a good business model — it applies to blogging almost informally. Companies like Apple, Inc. understand this.² Apple has a niche market and focuses on content that resonates within this group, to the extent that Jobs has what is termed a “cult following” [warning: link contains some language]. After all, Macs just work. Nevertheless, Apple is also a good example of a company that expanded its focus to great advantage (read: iPhone).

Conversely, Microsoft wants the whole market — go big or go home. Call it biting off more than you can chew, taking in too much territory, or whatever; but Microsoft tries to cover a broad range of user needs, hardware manufacturers and platforms, and comes up short on the quality front. Not content to focus on what it does best (using the term generously), Microsoft is constantly competing with Sony, Apple, Google, Gmail and Linux. And — whether it’s gaming consoles, hardware, media players, operating systems, communication services or search engines — you get a lineup of products doomed to eternal second place.

I could regale you with talk of BSODs, driver headaches and viruses, Windows ME and Vista, but the goal was merely to demonstrate what I mean by “the myth of relevance.” Just getting the most customers or the biggest audience is not an end unto itself. A streamlined, focused business model and quality control builds and retains a loyal consumer following. Spyderco is a good example. With only 30 employees and direct input from owner/founder Sal Glesser, there is a personal attention to quality and focus on customer relations that makes a Spyderco owner feel included, as it were. One wants the same sort of connection with a blog audience.

Finally, one more application: churches. There are, sadly, a lot of churches that would cut off their doctrinal arm to be “relevant.” They are the seeker-friendly, spiritual-milk, easy-believism variety. As Pastor Terry Tollefson is fond of saying, if the young people aren’t coming, break out the pizza, guitars, low lights and couches. Preach what people like to hear. Tickle ears. Unfortunately, they — just like the girl with mismatched shoes (one Converse and maybe a fur-trimmed boot is about right), striped leggings, outlandish hair and the “raccoon” style eyeliner — are pitching an indiscriminate appeal for attention. But attention is not an end to itself. You want the right kind of attention, the right kind of publicity. To quote Pastor Doug Wilson in a related vein, “Young Christian people should seek to become the kind of person that the kind of person they would want to marry would want to marry.”

Churches should want to attract people because of the strong preaching of law and condemnation in tension with grace and love, the unity, fellowship and accountability. The robust doctrine of Psalms and liturgy. The corporate-ness of Christ’s body. If someone is repelled by any of these things, that’s the way it should be — that’s the only hope for them. Diluting the truth until no one feels convicted is doing no one any favors. Taking the potency from worship and the doctrine from the songs is what, in other venues, would be called false advertising.

The church, properly functioning, shows people where they stand in relation to the body of Christ. When this is not done, people either discover spiritual meat at some point and have no taste for it, or settle into a warm, fuzzy, God-isn’t-about-guilt version of Christianity. (Just as long as I don’t have to do anything uncomfortable, like loving unlovable old people in nursing homes or confessing sins or letting grudges go.) On rare occasion, they realize they aren’t getting fed and look for a body to keep them accountable, words they can chew on — the Word himself.

So then, what I’ve called the “myth” of relevance is the notion that attracting attention, broadening appeal or increasing numbers is anything to aim for. At best, you will raise lukewarm interest in your lukewarm product. At worst, you will fill the Church with people who wouldn’t be there if they knew the way is narrow, and deter those who would only be there if they did. If I have spent time and digital ink on this last point, it’s because I’m serious. In any of these applications, there are some people to whom you don’t want to be relevant, and especially when it concerns the sanctification of Christ’s bride.

But, as always, that sanctification should flow out through all our endeavors, even our blogs. And yes, as a short to medium post, this is a fail. Oh well, semper reformanda and all that.

Is this what we want the world to think of our Christianity? Do we want people to see us as a cheesy, fuzzy, group of people “keeping it real with Jesus?” Should our music portray a sappy, over-baked “Jesus is my boyfriend” style or shouldn’t we rather portray what Christianity really is, the blood of Christ, the raging struggle of spirit against flesh, flesh against spirit, the persecution, the wrath of God, the (not sappy, not cheesy, but overpowering) love of Jesus when we were unlovable, wallowing in blood, sin and misery, the burden lifted from our shoulders by His sacrifice, the battle that He calls us to join, our victory against the power of Satan forever…now there’s something to sing about.

A lot of Christians would argue with me and say that using that kind of language doesn’t win people to Christ. If they hear about the bloody, gory, humiliating, overwhelming and rather harsh story of the Bible they will be repulsed. Therefore we should give them a mushy, half-hearted depiction of Jesus as a meek, Bambi-eyed, white-robed figure, trying to relate to people, begging them to just hold hands with Him, sway back and forth a little, throw a pine-cone in the fire, slip up their hand…? I think not.

People are desperate. People are miserable. People are wallowing in blood and tears waiting, searching for someone brave enough to make war on the misery of the world, someone strong enough to turn the world right side up, someone they can admire, love and fear. Someone awesome. They’re not ready to put the world in the hands of plastic, hippie-Jesus, but perhaps they would place the universe in the hands of the bloody but triumphant Son of God, one who has faced death and spat in it’s face, one who has crushed the head of sin and misery and sent it howling with it’s tail between it’s legs, one who is so beautiful, so holy, so awesome, so glorious we cannot look at Him without falling on our faces, one who loves us in our dirt and invites us in to eat at His table. This is what the world is looking for. Perhaps it’s time to start portraying our story in our music.  If we’re going to make “Christian” songs, let’s at least do it right.

Who is my audience right now? My friends and family.
How will that audience change? Word of mouth.
Why will people talk? Because I’m writing good things for my audience (or will).

Sure, it’s not bad to write about stuff because you like it and nobody cares. It just doesn’t do that much (except maybe make you happy). I personally would like to have some other people reading what I write and caring about it.

So I must write for the audience I have. That’s the only way to change and grow our audience it seems to me.

Sleep, you are cold-blooded, merciless,
an executioner.
You softly slit my throat from ear to ear
into a smile across my neck,
and spill my warm blood onto Calvin or
The Classic Hundred Poems.
Sleep, you are persuasive and insinuating,
loosening my aching ribs.
The caffeine candle lighting up my skull
can only last so long before
it flickers down and
fizzles on the table.
You charm my drooping head
with dark advances,
soft, beguiling.
And at the last you sooth my eyeballs,
burning, frozen orbs.
Forgiving, gentle sleep.

I write because I have things to say. Probably I think these things are not immediately obvious or thought about by everyone. Or perhaps some things are merely simple reminders or a fresh view on something.

I write publicly to share. To share my thoughts, to provoke contemplation and discussion.¹

I write to practice. One can often become discouraged comparing themselves to those they admire (for me, famous bloggers who write well like John Gruber, Anil Dash, etc. Not that I’m particularly a fan of those two, but it’s a culture and medium I like). But of course, one only becomes better at an art by doing it, and so I am here.

I write because I think what I write is worth reading. I don’t write copy. I write content (or try). No content = no post (with minor exceptions). Even if I do just “come up” with posts instead of them coming to me.

Why a blog? It’s linear. It’s a story. It’s a continuous outlet. Unlike some other types of publications, there is one thing it’s not, though: predictably published, something I like. It may have a pace, a predictable rhythm of sorts, but not a schedule per se. It’s a bit more freeflow that way.

I write because I want people to read what I write. I want them to laugh or think or be sad. I want them to be affected. Isn’t that why everybody writes, to affect? Even if it’s a textbook, the idea is to change by adding knowledge and know-how. What are blog comments then? Responses. And (see the footnote), if I disable comments, people who really feel strongly about what I have written might take up the pen themselves. It’s about effect, or at least it should be, more than comments or page views. If it has no effect, what is its worth?

And thus I want some readers, because that means people who keep coming back to hear what I say, and thus can be affected. Therefore, I should be worth it. Like I said before, no content, no post.

As per Merlin Mann’s description of a good blog, I think the posts will mostly be about technology and spiritual/life issues, things which I think about somewhat often. The relevant quote:

Good blogs are the product of “Attention times Interest.” A blog shows me where someone’s attention tends to go. Then, on some level, they encourage me to follow the evolution of their interest through a day or a year. There’s a story here. Ethical “via” links make it easy for me to follow their specific trail of attention, then join them for a walk made out of words.

And there’s just a little bit more. I shall do my very best to write good, thoughtful posts.

Good blog posts are made of paragraphs. Blog posts are written, not defecated. They show some level of craft, thinking, and continuity beyond the word count mandated by the Owner of Your Plantation. If a blog has fixed limits on post minimums and maximums? It’s not a blog: it’s a website that hires writers. Which is fine. But, it’s not really a blog.

I don’t know what they will all specifically be about. I guess I’ll just have to note things along down the way, come up with ideas, and write. Even if it’s garbage at first.

That is all. (Oh yes, and expect a post or few in the next 13 days. If not, send somebody to dispatch me.)

Proverbs says “Out of the thoughts of the heart the mouth speaks.” Now, I agree that there are people out there whose hearts resemble a soiled diaper and who carry it with them in their speech. When we watch movies in which every other word is an F bomb, we are voluntarily feeding ourselves with the contents of the character’s soiled diapers. Now tell me, what is wrong with this picture?

Thoughts on this subject have been mulling around for some while in the deep recesses of my brain, but they really came to a head this weekend. I was up in Moscow visiting my brother hanging out in Bucer’s (of course) and I got in to a discussion with Matthew’s roommate, friend, and Austen-lover Isaac Madsen. Through the course of the discussion he pointed out how much he disliked authors like Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell, but loved Jane Austen. Perhaps his reasons for disliking them are different than mine, but I know that I have always enjoyed Austen better as well. (I don’t as strongly dislike Dickens though, and I actually enjoy Gaskell). In my opinion, the greatest difference is one of flavor.

Dickens and Gaskell (to a lesser degree) flavor their works with tragedy, sorrow, pain, suffering, despair and overall bleakness. Austen, while tinting her pieces with hints of grief, really has a much more positive and upbeat view of life to the point of possibly bordering on the sentimental. Sentimentalism is something which I have come to strongly dislike. Whether it be manifested in the flowery artwork of Thomas Kinkade or the cheesy WWJD bracelets I just can’t stand it.

Here, I think is Austen’s pitfall. She tends to write in a rather fanciful style. Pleasant, enjoyable, romantic, sweet? Yes. Realistic? Not so much. I do not mean to discredit her as a writer and I fully admit to being a Jane Austen fan. BUT, I can get too much of her. I can overdose on her dream-like fairy tales. When the characters have to face no worse tragedy than being uninvited to a ball, being snubbed by the prideful rich, being forced to endure the ridiculous proposals of men they do not love…what is there to relate to? Granted there are occasionally real difficulties to overcome, but nonetheless, one cannot help feeling there is something lacking to her “reality.” Every once in a while, one can enjoy getting away from the mundane routines of life, forget the petty trials of the day and immerse oneself in the romantic world of Jane Austen, but it is not without fault (despite what Isaac may say).

However, back to the original subject: why is Austen better than Charles Dickens? Dickens tends to fall into the other ditch…and not just a little bit. He plunges whole-heartedly, almost gleefully into misery and despair. He delights to portray the lowest strata of life in their worst garments. He paints characters in such bleakness and sorrow as to destroy any fanciful notion of hope remaining in his poor reader. Is this just? To be sure, the world is a fallen place and it has it’s share of tragedy, sin and darkness, but such despairing and tragic stories are not what I consider pleasure reading. I will admit to Dickens having his moments of light, just as Austen had her flashes of reality. I can honestly say that I enjoy “A Christmas Carol” and some parts of his other works, but on the whole, one cannot help feeling oppressed and depressed by the gloom which characterizes the greater part of his books.

All this to say, Austen is a phenomenal writer, but with a tendency to slight sentimentalism, which in too large a dose can be overbearing. Dickens, probably a good enough writer in his own way, is too much gloom, depression and darkness to be seriously healthy reading. So, is there a middle ground?

In my own opinion, Les Miserables by Victor Hugo is an excellent example of reality mixed with romanticism, despair and tragedy mingled with hope, goodness and beauty. Elizabeth Gaskell is far nearer this medium than Dickens, especially in her excellent book Wives and Daughters. Austen is only slightly misplaced and there are many other authors who strike a good balance.

The purpose of this post is not to tell you not to read certain books or to read other ones, but really, my point is that to be a really good work of art (in any sense of the word; book, painting, etc) there must be an expression of sadness, sin and evil…otherwise the observer has nothing to relate to. But there must also be an element of hope and redemption which Dickens missed in so much of his work. This is necessary to the good piece of art work, because it tells our story to us. It does not deny sin and suffering, but declares to a fallen world that there is hope. Even a picture or a book with no intentional Christian message, by portraying this dichotomy of sin and redemption, paints the gospel story with more clarity than a Precious Moments “love your neighbor” scene or a plastic Jesus nightlight.

I want to say my inspiration comes from Jason Kottke and Seth Godin. There’s probably some other stuff in there, too. I know Jason’s mostly an editor now in the sense that he doesn’t create most of his content, but rather points it out and comments on it. But some of his earlier stuff was more personal. And he points out such interesting stuff.

Seth Godin is a marketer. A genius, I’d say. He seems to spout a continuous stream of good stuff on his blog. And it’s not cheesy. I don’t know that he’s a Christian, but he has an ethic that really appeals to me as a Christian: hard work, innovation, courage, and that sort of thing. And his posts usually aren’t all that long.

So, I think I have some stuff to say worth saying here that I could put in a somewhat similar format. The question is, with Matthew not posting an equivalent amount (not necessarily a bad thing), am I going to be posting too much? (For what? Fairness? Equality? My own good?). That’s the question I wish to ask Matthew and all you who read this.

What say you?