I love Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. I usually find myself on each one of them at some point nearly every day. There’s something great about reading about our friend’s lives 1000′s of miles away or chucking at someone’s pithy observation about life. But what if our Tweets were real?
- My senior pastor is a jerk sometimes. I want to punch him in the face
- I’ve been married 10 years, and still don’t have sex figured out
- I’m pretty sure my whole youth group is filled with “that one kid”
- The last time I read the Bible was in late 2012
- I want to quit I want to quit I want to quit
- Things aren’t good deep inside me, but the outside is as shiny as ever
- If I could figure out where to dispose the body, I’d take out that parent
Don’t Tweet these! We need to continue to post those stunning sunsets, epic CS Lewis quotes and pictures of our no foam latte. I would die if my real life made it was genuinely Tweeted for the world to see, or pictures of my inner world made it online. But you need to be sharing it somewhere.
You need to have someone who knows the real you, not the brand, image or “always on” youth worker. You need to be able to confess, share, process and pray through the stuff you would never Tweet.
Simple question to kick off the week: is someone reading your real Tweets?