The Big Hundred

Well, what do you know? My 100th post.

Who would've thought back on December 10, 2004 that this humble little journal would become a place I could freely state my opinions and put my thoughts into long rambles? Not me, that's for sure. It just kind of happened.

I'd kept a written journal since fifth grade back when I lived in Brentwood, TN. I remember that I'd had lots of preparation for it in third and fourth grades when I'd do journals for class. I always tried to write 100 words. That goal eventually grew to 200, then 300, then 500, and so on. But those don't count. They were assignments. A real journal is one of the few outlets you can use to pour out your thoughts, feelings, and frustrations. And the best thing about it? You're the only authority. No one else reads it but you (unless of course, you have snooping siblings who like to break into your desk drawers and sneek little peeks at it while you're away at Furman...) No one else critiques it but you. That somehow makes journal-writing an activity to look forward to by day's end.

I got the notion to keep up a real journal from Beverly Cleary's award-winning book Dear Mr. Henshaw. It's about a boy named Leigh Botts who writes letters to his favorite childhood author, and he's inspired by him to develop his own written work by starting a journal. Towards the end of the book, he writes a description for a school literature contest about a day on his Dad's rig, during which they hauled loads of grapes to a refinery and capped it off at a gas station drinking coffee, hanging with his dad's trucking buddies, and playing all of the game machines. He receives an honorable mention for his work and gets to have lunch with a real author, who tells him that she actually read his story and enjoyed it very much. The reason for that is because, to use her own words, "You wrote like you." I try to keep that in mind whenever I sit down to write something, whether it's my journal, an essay for class, or a note to a friend. When I write, I want to use my own voice and not someone else's. My wordy and long-winded style might make some people nod off, but it's my style and I like it. That's what counts.

So anyway, I kept up the written journal from fifth grade until the end of my senior year in high school. I meant to keep it going through college, but somehow it felt different. I couldn't explain it; I still can't, but it seemed like the transition from grade school to college demanded some kind of change in the ways I express myself. Around this time, I was starting to come out of my shell of shyness and self-conscious nature around other people (I continue to work at this and will likely keep working at it for a long time); I wasn't anywhere near as shy about being open about my thoughts as I once was. I desired some new form of expression with words, but I didn't know what.

That desire kept dancing in my head until the end of fall term in my sophomore year (don't worry; I have no wish to recap freshman year, as that would push even my level of rambling to new heights). I was buckled down with exams, my mother was getting ready to have a hysterectomy (and though I didn't know it when I started this, an emergency appendectomy before that), and I needed a distraction. I needed something that could not only work as an outlet for my thoughts, but be accessible to any passerby interested in taking the time to read it. And then I realized I could take that a step further. I could use my journal as a means of outreach, talking about what Jesus has done in my heart and the many ways he has blessed me and challenged me. I hesitate to think of it along the same lines as a devotional because this is nothing but my personal thoughts. It just doesn't fit right, you know? I mean, I still write this because it helps me. If someone else likes what I put down, then praise be to God for that.

So along came Blogger, and the Paladin's Temple was born. I didn't spend very much time deciding on a name for my journal. I'm a Furman Paladin, so that's half of it right there. I tossed around names such as Abode, Lair, Cavern, and Fortress before I finally settled on Temple. I don't even know why. The name just clicked with me.

Anyway, I've probably spent enough time reflecting on the history of my journals past and present to merit this as a special 100th post. Yes, I know; by all counts the number is empty and devoid of any meaning, but hey, I'm in a reflective mood. Thank you, Blogger, for providing this space on the internet for me to ramble on to my heart's content. Thank you to everyone who's stopped by, whether I know you or not, and extra thanks to those of you who've taken the time to leave a comment; I appreciate those.

And thank you, Lord Jesus. Thank you for dying on the cross to spare me the agony and the excrutiating torment that you endured. Thank you for conquering sin and death when I couldn't do it alone. Thank you for loving and forgiving me despite how many times I've failed to do the same. Thank you for filling me with Your Holy Spirit to use me as your vessel for love and service to others. I pray that I will be more receptive to Your Spirit each and every day. I pray that I won't let an opportunity go by to share Your message of love and truth. I love you Lord. Thank you for loving me first and always. It's in the name of your son, Jesus Christ, that I pray. Amen.

Song of the Day: Casting Crowns - "If We Are the Body"

Verse of the Day: "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery." - Galatians 5:1