Stop Reading Blogs

Typical Blog Comment

Dear Reformed Blog Reader, or “That Guy”:

What I’m about to write here, I mean in all truth, sincerity, and brotherly love. My goal is not to offend or create a flame war, rather I just want to tell you the truth (in love). So, here goes.

Please stop reading blogs. For the love of all that is decent in this sinful world, stop going to your feed reader, stop checking in with the Reformed Baptists, and please, for the love of God, stop commenting on these blogs.

I don’t write this selfishly; I can easily avoid reading these blogs and your idiotic comments. I write this for your health, and for the health of those you love: Stop. Reading. Blogs. It’s for your own good, like when your mom took away your security blanket. You need this.

If I can be blunt here, you are really annoying (I’m struggling with language, my baser instincts tell me to be honest and say “You’re a douchebag.”) All this constant blog reading, trying to straighten up everyone’s theology, and especially the comments about how everyone but you (and your church of 20) has gone down the path of worldliness, well, it’s gone on long enough.

Please, just stop it. Go out and do something else. Leave all of your theology books behind and go out and enjoy life. Go to a park and see how much fun a slide is. Pet a puppy. Talk to a girl. If you’re married, try talking to your wife about something she‘s interested in. Go to the mall and have an Auntie Anne’s pretzel. Watch one of those really crappy Syfy movies on a Saturday afternoon. Please, just do something other than blog reading.

Listen, I’ve been where you are. I’ve looked around and seen all of the errors, and I have wanted with all of my heart to correct everyone’s theology. In the end, it’s just not worth it. You are not doing anyone any good; condemning people to hell with a keystroke might seem like fun, but it’s ruining you.

When you come back, the world will still be here (assuming you aren’t reading this is 2012, because if you are, you’re screwed). Christians who confess Jesus Christ as Lord will still be doing something wrong. But maybe, prayerfully, you’re perspective will have changed. Maybe you will see that change doesn’t always require turning over tables and telling people to castrate themselves (I’m not denying there aren’t times when this is required). Change can oftentimes be achieved by loving your neighbor as yourself.

Thanks for taking the time to read this. I hope it helps.

Your friend,


PS–If you are thinking about commenting, keep in mind the words of Admiral Ackbar, “It’s a trap!”

An Open Letter to Preachers

Dear Preacher,

I know it’s pretty tough being a preacher, what with all of the demands on your time and the crazy people that fill your church.  I know it’s hard getting a lot of time to study for your sermons (although I think you should probably do that instead of basketball and softball “ministries”) and  I know that people don’t appreciate you as much as they should.  I know that it’s hard speaking as much as you do.

That being said, if you don’t mind could you please keep your Greek exegesis out of the pulpit.  I’m not entirely sure what you’re trying to do (maybe you never learned better), but no one really gets it.  I wouldn’t be so bold as to suggest you do this to sound smart, but a lot of people think so. 

Listen, I preach too; I understand what it’s like.  I understand that you feel the only way to accurately convey the Scriptures is to use your Greek in the pulpit, it’s a temptation we all face.  But it really doesn’t help anyone (well, except for that one weird guy who doesn’t ready anything but Puritan Paperbacks and wears the John Owen is my homeboy shirt).  In fact, when you do word studies while preaching most of us stop paying attention.  Sometimes you use the last possible definition to prove your point.  At this point I’m daydreaming about what I would do if terrorists suddenly attacked our building.

It’s not that I believe Greek to be unhelpful, it certainly is.  But it’s unhelpful in the pulpit, especially since the majority of the people listening to you can barely speak English, let alone Greek that was spoken two thousand years ago (okay, I’ll admit that was gratuitous and mean spirited).  So now we know the word translated church is actually ekklesia; how does that help me?  Why not take the five minutes you just used to tell me that to tell me what the Bible says about the church?

And then when we get home, all we have is our English Bibles.  You’ve spent so much time telling us how we can’t understand the Bible without knowing Greek (albeit implicitly) that we don’t have any confidence to study the Scriptures ourselves.  Whether you like it or not, you’ve made yourself a little pope; we have to keep coming back to you to understand the Bible because it’s much too dificult for a mere layperson to understand.  Are indulgences next? 

I’m sorry if this letter comes across as angry and sarcastic.  I don’t want you to think people aren’t willing to submit to the authority of the church, because we are.  We (and I think I’m allowed to speak for every evangelical Christian everywhere in all time; I am a blogger after all) just don’t want to return to Medieval Catholicism.  We are Protestants after all, if we wanted Catholicism we would become Catholics (although we would probably lose out on the pot lucks).

Thank you for taking the time to read this,


P.S. Please tell the music guy to stop saying “We can’t sing Standing on the Promises while sitting on the premises.”  It’s stupid.

Three Things I Don't Care About

To everyone in my office:

I love you all with as much Christian love as my sinful heart can manange.  I know it doesn’t always seem that way, I’m human after all, but I do try to do right by everyone.  I do my job (and if I can be slightly proud I do it darn well), I try to talk to everyone with a real interest, and I don’t rub it in your face when your mistakes cost me time and the hospital a lot of money.  Well, I guess I did just rub it in your face, read the second sentence again.

That being said, we have a serious problem, one that is affecting our workplace relationship.  You see, I really, honestly don’t care about your fantasy football team.  Or your World of Warcraft character.  Or your pets.  I know that I seem interested, you know with the head nodding and the occasional “Yeah”, but I reall don’t care.  It’s not that I don’t care about you, I do, but I don’t care about that other stuff.

I won’t name names (you know who you are), but when you compare my kids being sick to your cats being sick, it just makes me laugh.  I know you love your cats and you think of them as being your kids, but it just isn’t the same.  And I won’t even get into the time one of you seemed to tear up because your WoW character got past level 70.  I felt bad for you.

I’m sorry if this comes off as harsh and un-Christian.  The last thing I want is to be a jerk and offend you, but seriously, do you really think anyone cares that you got Brady in the 4th round?  No one does.  Sometimes the truth is hard, but we have to be adults and face up to reality. 

Anyway, let me tell you about how my son is being potty trained…



A Passive Agressive Letter to the Person Who Stole My Trashcan

To the person who stole my trashcan,

I understand that I have a very nice trash can.  It’s big, able to hold many bags of trash; it’s blue, a very shiny blue if I do say so myself; and it’s also got some nice wheels on it so I can easily push it from my backyard to the curb.

The problem with my trashcan (well not my problem, but yours) is that it’s mine.  You see, I paid for it, so that generally means I get to keep it.  You, whoever you are, can’t just walk down the street and run off with it.  That’s not how the system works.

I’m sure you have a lot of good reasons to steal my trashcan.  No doubt it would be fun to push your friends down a big hill in it, although considering I have two kids in diapers, that might not be the best idea.  You could also push it in the street and watch a big truck hit it; that would be pretty neat.  Or you might just need a trashcan of your own.  I understand, times are tough for a lot of people.

If you really needed a trashcan, you should have just asked me.  I would have taken you down to Wal*Mart and bought one for you.  Seriously.  I’m not a bad guy, I’ll help out someone who’s in need.

But no matter what reason you came up with when you stole my trashcan, it’s still stealing.  And pretty much no one is cool with stealing, especially God and the police.  (You might want to keep an eye out for both of them.)

All that being said, could you just return my trashcan?  Bring it back, put it up on the curb, and I won’t ask any questions.  I really don’t want to buy another one.

Thank you,

Mike Frizzell.