On love and blogging

A wise man once said, “Before you criticize anyone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you’ll be a mile away, and you’ll have their shoes.”

Corny joking aside, I’ve been having a bit of a think about our Policy for comments on this blog—especially number 3: the comments should be ‘godly’. Of course, the word ‘godly’ can mean all sorts of things to different people. In this case, what really matters is what the word ‘godly’ means to our godly moderators who are vetting the comments! But I’d like to suggest what this idea of ‘godly comments’ might mean in practice.

When Jesus taught his disciples what it meant to be ‘godly’, his particular focus was encouraging them to be ‘like God’. Jesus says in the first chapter of the Sermon on the Mount:

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust. (Matt 5:43-45)

Being ‘like God’ is, according to Jesus, loving each person we encounter in God’s creation (even our enemies), and praying for them (even those who persecute us). What might this mean when it comes to blog comments?

I have to admit, I haven’t had the time or energy to read every comment on the Sola Panel—I’m finding it pretty heavy-going even trying to read every comment on my own posts! But I have built up a general picture of what a ‘loving’ comment looks like. It’s got nothing to do with whether the comment agrees with what I’ve said. Rather, I feel loved when people have taken the time to read sympathetically what I have said—that is, to truly ‘listen’ to me. A comment that actually engages (positively or negatively) with what I’ve said is loving. A comment that fails to understand what I’ve said, but instead just ends up talking about something else that exists in the mind of of the commenter, is unloving. I feel most unloved when somebody seems to be either passionately ‘agreeing’ with me or passionately ‘disagreeing’ with me, but actually all they’re doing is agreeing or disagreeing with something else—something that I haven’t actually said. Sometimes, of course, it’s my fault because I haven’t been clear enough. But this is not always the case.

So here are some suggestions for what constitutes a godly comment:

Firstly, a godly comment is one where the person making the comment treats the person they are responding to as a human being—a person of worth who is created and sustained by God, who desires to be heard and is in some measure coherent. A godly comment is preceded by a sincere attempt to read sympathetically, to assume the best, to try to ‘get into’ the thought-world of the other person and look at things from their point of view first. It’s not about agreeing or disagreeing; it’s about truly ‘listening’. In other words, it is loving.

Secondly, a godly comment is one which is clothed in prayer for the other person—especially if that person is somebody with whom you disagree. It’s harder to be unloving when you’re praying simultaneously for the person. You might pray all sorts of things: that they would be encouraged, that they would repent, even that they would be converted if you think that’s what they need! But pray.

If you agree with what I’ve said, don’t limit the application to Sola Panel comments. Apply it to anything you do on the internet—blogging, posting, commenting, etc. Be sons of God. Be godly.

And feel free, of course, to disagree with me, or to pick holes in my argument—provided you’ve heard what I’ve said. And please pray for me too.

7 thoughts on “On love and blogging

  1. Thanks Lionel.  I am about to go to a meeting with Leichardt Council and some people opposed to what we are doing as a church.  And it’s very clear how I should apply the principles you have spoken about in this meeting.  Yours, Dominic

  2. “Secondly, a godly comment is one which is clothed in prayer for the other person.”

    Crikey, do we really have to clothe every comment in prayer? I thought blogging was already time-consuming enough as is…

  3. Ben, OTOH, <i>life</i> is time consuming.

    wink

    Well, at least, <i>my</i> life seems to be just at the moment. :-(

  4. ‘A comment that fails to understand what I’ve said, but instead just ends up talking about something else that exists in the mind of the commenter, is unloving.’

    ‘And feel free, of course, to disagree with me, or to pick holes in my argument—provided you’ve heard what I’ve said’.

    Lionel.
    I have really tried to appreciate what you have said. And yes I feel nervous responding with a comment!! I suggest that you may have failed to take into account the limitations that some of us may have.

    There can be all sorts of reasons a person may not understand such as having a different intellectual ability to the writer, reading difficulties, inability to hold together a range of ideas. They may, such as myself, think they have understood sufficiently when they might not have and so respond inappropriately’ (unlovingly?) in relation to the comment.

    In our churches this can also be an issue that can be overlooked but leads to people being unwittingly silenced because of their limitations.

    I suggest love (patience) will be needed from both sides because of the nature of communication between fallible and cognitively limited people.

    Di

  5. Hi Lionel,
    Great Blog mate.
    In my job I receive a bit of . . . well let’s call it . . . “constructive criticism”. If people followed your advice I reckon I’d spend far more time talking with disgruntled people ABOUT THE ACTUAL ISSUES rather than about HOW the issues were raised. Love covers a multitude of sins. Your wisdom is much appreciated.
    benny

  6. STOP SHOUTING, BEN. GODLY PEOPLE DON’T SHOUT.

    Oh—you were discussing substance, not style? I missed what you said, sorry.

    wink

  7. Hi Lionel,

    On the odd occasion when (probably unwisely) I’ve been given the chance to preach at church, one of the things that’s struck me is the difference between what I thought was the main point of my talk, and what other people thought I was saying. Now this could merely be a symptom of how bad my talk was, but I’m certain that others have encountered it.

    Post-modernists make a big thing about how the reader’s interpretation is as valid as the writer’s. How do we overcome this to ensure that when people “listen” to us, what they hear is what we’re actually saying.

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