Remember back when I used to actually write stuff on this blog?
Me too. Ah, what fun we used to have. Me, waxing rhapsodic, pontificating until the cows came home to remind me that I need a much bigger condo, offering my advice to those of you kind enough to allow me that honor. And you, reading me, writing me, making with the mondo-awesome comments, in myriad and sometimes quite miraculous ways letting me know that I’m not nearly as alone as my office is usually telling me that I am.
And all of my neighbors, whom I mostly hear from my office window—or, rather, whose dogs I mostly hear, because I don’t think people train their dogs as much as they used to. Now everybody’s dog just barks like … well, like dogs never trained not to.
That’s sad. A trained dog is a happy dog, has been my experience. When I was a kid I trained my dog to play dead after I pretended to shoot him. I’d hold my hand up, say, “Bang!”, and ol’ Wimpy would roll over onto his back, hold his legs straight up, and freeze.
Awesome! Kind of disturbing in retrospect, but my friends dug it. And that’s what mattered.
You know what instantly stops all dogs, trained or otherwise, from barking? Coyotes. Dogs in my townhouse/condo complex are like furry, Alpo-fortified roosters: they start barking at the break of dawn. Sometimes, the coyotes who populate the hills surrounding my small neighborhood aren’t yet done for the night, and, for reasons too dreadful to contemplate, suddenly begin yipping and howling in that special, bloodcurdling way that makes clear that coyotes (which I love) are the gatekeepers of hell. The moment the manic cry of the banshee coyotes begins, you couldn’t get a dog within three miles of here to bark if you started throwing cats at it. Every single dog in the area drops into a silence so absolute you can almost hear them thinking to their humans, “Yeah, this morning you’ll be taking yourself for a walk, Mr. Alpha. And remember: There’s no dog living here!”
Ah, coyotes. They sure do make for a lot of “Lost Cat” notices taped all over the place.
Wait a minute. What was I talking about?
Oh. Duh. Blogging.
See? I am so out of practice!
And that’s because I have lately been busier than a coyote reading lost cat notices. And I’m certainly not complaining about that busyness. The NALT Christians Project, all of three weeks old this Wednesday, has been a massive blessing to me. As of this writing the NALT Christians website is showing ninety-three videos. Each one is my favorite one. The Internet has become particularly fond of this one, which, at 100,000 views in the last day, has definitely gone viral [update: make that 219,700]:
That kid! He’s the very locus of all the cuteness in the universe!
Watch his mom right after he holds up the photo of his beloved “G-diddy.” If the memory of her expression is the last thing that flashes through my mind before I die, I’ll die happy.
And that dad! That voice! His whole … mega-solid presence!
Man. That a family makes me proud to be human.
Making a NALT Christians video is extremely easy to do. And if you’re an LGBT-affirming Christian, it’s vitally important that you make one. When asked what words or phrases best describe Christianity, the top response among Americans ages 16-29 was “anti-homosexual.” For a staggering ninety-one percent of non-Christians—and eighty percent of young churchgoers—the answer was the same. If you don’t take advantage of the NALT Christians platform to help change this toxic, life-destroying, profoundly mistaken understanding of Christianity, then … then color me completely mystified.
I’m happy to now be so thoroughly engaged—along with my wife Catherine, Wayne and Evan from Truth Wins Out, and the indispensable Dan Wilkinson—tending to The NALT Christians Project. But I’m also really glad to get back to working here on my blog. So … thanks! Thanks for keeping my blog alive whilst I’ve been away; thanks for writing me the letters I’m so pleased to answer here; thanks for liking my Facebook page; thanks for supporting what we do over on Unfundamentalist Christians; thanks for subscribing to my newsletter.
Together, we’re making a difference. And we’re having some fun doing so. What could be better than that?
As I write this, the sun’s come up. The hills are alive with the sound of silence.