A Duck-billed Platitude

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I have often said that I write for the same reason that dogs bark. Ah, someone might reply, but why do you write the way you do? There are two ways to describe this “way” of writing, the first using words like zest, verve, color, and manly courage, and the second being a detailed description of a couple of dogs yapping endlessly at midnight. If I wanted, I could turn this into a Mobius paragraph if I simply moved on to describe those dogs with zest, verve, color, and manly courage. But I forbear.

Like all writers, the voice I now have grew and developed over the years, meaning that it wasn’t here when I started. But that is not the same thing as saying that it wasn’t present in any respect. Long before I knew how to do it, I was profoundly attracted to those writers who did know how to do it. I know that this began at least by my time in high school, and there were probably stirrings of it earlier.

I grew up surrounded by Christian literature. My father ran Christian bookstores. My parents subscribed to Christian magazines. Missionary newsletters were constantly around. And the problem was that one of the presenting characteristics of evangelical writing was that it brought to mind visions of vast acres of vanilla tapioca.

Lewis was the first great writer I was acquainted with, and that started early on. But I encountered William F. Buckley on my own when I was in high school (Up From Liberalism), and he made an instant conquest of me. He was talking about serious things, but he was interesting. He was entertaining without being frivolous. And he was interesting, not only because he was addressing topics that interested me, but he did it in an interesting way. But if it was possible to do this with something like politics, why not theology?

If you were to tally up a report of when I first ran into the writers who have most influenced me, here they are, along with the age I most likely was when I first encountered them: C.S. Lewis (5), William F. Buckley (16), Tozer (19), Chesterton (22), Wodehouse (23), and Mencken (40). If you wanted to make a pie chart of influences, the only thing I could do would be to wish you luck, and perhaps suggest something else, something more like the corned beef hash of influences.

So my takeaway idea was to learn how to exhibit the great commonplaces of Christendom, the basic mammals of truth, and present them in a way that was unique and striking and completely unexpected. Call it an attempt at the duck-billed platitude. In fact, that’s a glaring example right there.

I learned early on that there are three different kinds of communication—although I don’t think I would have framed it this way when I first learned these distinctions. First, I communicated with Nancy, family, and close friends, and did so on a daily basis. I had learned how this was supposed to go from the family I grew up in, but got married in 1975 and together with Nancy began cultivating an atmosphere of communication in our home, consisting largely of affirmation, storytelling, jokes, and so on. In the second place, I began preaching regularly in 1977, and so was communicating with a larger group of saints. Given the size of the church, I knew them well, and they knew me. The preaching was personal—we were all in the same room, and in addition to my words, they could read my gestures, expressions, and so on, and could ask questions afterward if there had been a bafflement. The first group was less than 20, and the second group was between 200-300.

In 1980 or thereabouts, I began writing a weekly column for our local newspaper—a column of political and cultural commentary. And lo, the troubles began. This kind of communication involves thousands of disparate tastes, views, opinions, and hatreds. And one of the perennial mistakes that people make about this last kind of communication is that they measure it by the rules of the first or second kind. But although words are involved in all of them, they are completely different worlds.

During my newspaper column days, Nancy used to run a business out of our home for a time, selling fabric. A woman had come to our house to buy some, and as they were chatting, a light of realization began to dawn on Nancy’s customer. “You aren’t married to Doug Wilson, by any chance?” Nancy allowed that she was. The response was mystified. “But you seem so nice!”

And you know what? She is nice. But you know what the implication was, do you not?

In the meantime, back at the blog—which is where this circuitous ramble has brought us—this kind of communication is a very different thing than asking a beloved family member to pass the mashed potatoes. In the potato scenario, success or failure is easy to ascertain. You might have to ask again, but you can generally tell whether you are going to have to ask again.

But what is involved when you write for, say, 50,000 people? The audience is wildly mixed—some are there to hate-read, some to research, some to be entertained, some to be informed, some to gawk, some to be stirred up, and so on. And the work itself is a mixture of mass communication, show business, polemics, wordsmithing, teaching, and eye of newt. How do you determine success or failure? Clicks, comments, traffic?

That is a small part of it, but the main thing is whether you are honestly saying what you believe God has given you to say, and whether it appears to be getting across to the kind of people you intended to reach. If you assume the goal is to get it across to all 50,000 in exactly the same way, as though you were requesting the potatoes, and they were passing them, then you are clearly not thinking of communication theory in the same way I am.

Put simply, what audience am I writing for? Keep in mind the actual audience could well be physically bigger than that, but you can’t have multiple central audiences. Who am I addressing? What is the central target audience?

Since the late eighties, my central “ideal reader” could be described in this way. He is evangelical and conservative, and for some reason is generally out of step with the surrounding evangelical culture, including perhaps his own church. Although out of sympathy with a great deal of what occurreth out there, he is frequently not sure why these things are bothersome, and remains uncertain until someone articulates the source of the unease. When that happens, the response is something like, “Yes, that. Exactly. That’s the problem. I knew I wasn’t crazy.”

Or perhaps someone else is crazy in the same way.

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Nate Norris
Nate Norris
7 years ago

That last paragraph describes me perfectly. And I’m grateful to you Doug for being one of those writers in my life “who did know how to do it”.

Andy Kaiyala
Andy Kaiyala
7 years ago

Nice to be thought of as ideal.

Christopher Brehm
Christopher Brehm
7 years ago

Hah yes and amen. The paragraph detailing the ideal reader is me to a T. Keep on writing, you know what you are going.

Blake
Blake
7 years ago

“Yes, that. Exactly. That’s the problem. I knew I wasn’t crazy.”
Well, that pretty much sums it up for me.
Thanks, Pastor

TedR
TedR
7 years ago

Mega dittos

"A" dad
"A" dad
7 years ago

What he said. ????

Rob Steele
Rob Steele
7 years ago

> vanilla tapioca

Never tried it but the idea resonates. It sings.

Sean Carlson
Sean Carlson
7 years ago

We live in such odd times. Nobody is supposed to point out that the emperor has no clothes on. It is consider gauche to speak plainly & clearly. I suppose that’s what I like about you. Thanks for the edification as well as the entertainment!

ME
ME
7 years ago

“Yes, that. Exactly. That’s the problem. I knew I wasn’t crazy.” That’s an honorable calling, isn’t it? I detest vanilla tapioca. There is a discussion going on right now, of which the outcome is really irrelevant to much of anything, where I have put forth the idea that the body is composed of many parts and one shouldn’t expect the knees to be operating like the toes. So do we forgive and over look Wilson’s insensitivity towards victims and trust that it does not manifest itself in real life quite like it does in his writing? And if those broken… Read more »

Kevin Bratcher
7 years ago
Reply to  ME

I’ve never seen him be insensitive to victims, but certainly so towards those who have used the victims to make their own, re-victimizing in the name of feminism or what-have-you. And, like many insensitive pastors, he’s willing to point out when a victim *is* sinning, and doesn’t give them the carte-blanche to destroy themselves with bitterness or revenge just because.

"A" dad
"A" dad
7 years ago
Reply to  ME

Go just a bit farther Memi. Yes, all those different parts are the body of Christ, the church. And who is the head of that body? Christ Himself!
While we may not fully understand or see the functions of the other parts, the Head, Christ, does. I have a lot of faith in Christ’s headship, and I see Memi, that He is Lord over you. That is why I have a fair amount of faith in you, even with the minor areas where we disagree. Neither of us, or Wilson for that matter, are in charge of much!????

ME
ME
7 years ago
Reply to  "A" dad

Amen, A-dad. I assumed we all knew who the Head of the body was. :)

Capndweeb
Capndweeb
7 years ago

And sometimes, you help us to see things, Pastor Wilson.
Like when Lewis wrote about the child making mud pies in a slum.
And other times, you draw in some of those children and their mud pies. Hopefully, between you and the peanut gallery here, we can begin to describe what a holiday at the sea is like.

Duells Quimby
Duells Quimby
7 years ago
Reply to  Capndweeb

Hear, hear! Well spoken Capn!
You’ll make Admiral yet!

"A" dad
"A" dad
7 years ago
Reply to  Duells Quimby

Well, when he does make Admiral, we’ll all have to chip in and get him an even more awesome hat!????

Duells Quimby
Duells Quimby
7 years ago

And that Doug, is precisly why I’ve read your blog and credenda agenda for all these many years! :)

Prudence
Prudence
7 years ago

You are a gifted writer, using your writing abilities to make sure people like you are edified, entertained and hopefully better understood. At least you are clear about your purpose. But that does not take much courage.

You should consider, once in a while, taking a risk and calling out the sin in your laity, and not just the women and liberals. That would be true manly courage. Stand up for the weaker sex, don’t stand on them, as your previous blog depicted in that meme.

"A" dad
"A" dad
7 years ago
Reply to  Prudence

Hey Prudy, while the following comment is a bit “pointy”, it is nonetheless a well rounded point!

“It doesn’t take much courage to make your blog comments open either!” ????????????

Jon Swerens
7 years ago
Reply to  Prudence

Prudence must be new around here. Of all of the opprobriums one could toss at Doug, lack of courage is perhaps the most absurd.

"A" dad
"A" dad
7 years ago
Reply to  Jon Swerens

Yes, although the words “courage” and “blog comments” are rarely used in the same sentence! ????

Valerie (Kyriosity)
7 years ago
Reply to  Prudence

As a member of Doug’s church who listens to him preach every Sunday, I can assure you that there is no lack of calling out the sin in his laity, no lack of addressing the lives of the people (men, women, and children) right in front of him, no lack of rebuke for what is wrong or encouragement for what is right or pointing to the gospel​ for what is needed.

BooneCtyBeek
BooneCtyBeek
7 years ago

I often feel like I am on the island of misfit toys when I come here.

bethyada
7 years ago

hate-read

What a wonderful phrase.

“I hear that Wilson has posted again. I wonder what that misogynistic, race-baiting, homophobic author has written on this time. If I can just find my black-tinted glasses…”

bethyada
7 years ago

C.S. Lewis: Superb. William F. Buckley: never read him Tozer: Excellent, don’t read him enough. Is it because he is too convicting? Chesterton: Okay, and some enjoyable turns of phrase, but a bit over-rated. Wodehouse: Only 1 book. Enjoyable enough, but don’t read a lot of fiction and unlikely to read a lot of him Mencken: Probable should read sometime. Influences in thinking (I am not enough of a writer to identify that) Lewis profoundly (at least on my thinking more so than my staid writing), Tozer should be but not enough. And now Wilson for some years; mainly ideas,… Read more »

TedR
TedR
7 years ago
Reply to  bethyada

You are missing out if you don’t read much fiction, especially Wodehouse, a master. Books like Peace Like a River by Enger, really good and immensely edifying.

I too didn’t read much fiction and then a few years ago I made a concerted effort to regularly read works of fiction instead of just every once in a while. Boy, was I missing out. Now I have the opposite problem, I want to catch up on so many great works of fiction I’ve got to check myself in the other direction.

bethyada
7 years ago
Reply to  TedR

My reading was predominantly fiction as a teenager. It is now ~90% non-fiction. I read some fiction and enjoy it, but there is so much non-fiction to read.

I read Austen’s Pride and Prejudice recently. Absolutely superb. And extremely funny. Perhaps I could read a little more fiction?

Dunsworth
Dunsworth
7 years ago
Reply to  bethyada

You really should. Keeping the imagination working helps us to better understand true things outside our immediate or sensory experience.

"A" dad
"A" dad
7 years ago
Reply to  Dunsworth

Oh!
So that explains why the New York Times is still in print! ????

bethyada
7 years ago
Reply to  Dunsworth

If I am to read fiction to understand truth better then it might have to be predominantly fiction from an earlier epoch.

Dunsworth
Dunsworth
7 years ago
Reply to  bethyada

Yes, that would definitely be true. Predominantly, but not necessarily exclusively. It’s not just what the fiction itself teaches you about reality, it’s also what the exercise of reading fiction does to your mind.

Indigo
Indigo
7 years ago
Reply to  bethyada

Your Lewis is showing :)

katecho
katecho
7 years ago
Reply to  bethyada

bethyada wrote:

Perhaps I could read a little more fiction?

If you are reading anything from the mainstream media, you’re getting more than enough fiction in your diet. Nothing to worry about.

bethyada
7 years ago

my central “ideal reader” could be described in this way. He is
*evangelical and
*conservative, and
*for some reason is generally out of step with the surrounding evangelical culture,
*including perhaps his own church.

yes, yes, yes, no/yes

Andrew Roggow
Andrew Roggow
7 years ago
Reply to  bethyada

Same answers for me bethyada

Dunsworth
Dunsworth
7 years ago
Reply to  bethyada

Yes, yes, yes, no for the most part, but I’m extremely fortunate in my church.

ashv
ashv
7 years ago

God willing, we’ll see Buckleyite conservatism buried in our lifetimes. (Trump has already dug its grave.) Buckley, in addition to being thoroughly unpleasant personally, did much to neuter effective defence of middle American interests (at the behest of the CIA, I might add). Buckley seems like the epitome of the type that loudly deplores the fruit of liberal democracy but vehemently resists any attempts to prune it or, heaven forbid, uproot it. Good riddance.

jigawatt
jigawatt
7 years ago

Off topic here, but I thought some of you might be interested to see the top article on the St. Louis Post-Dispatch website:

More schools cancel Christian sex ed program; emotions run high at public meetings
http://www.stltoday.com/news/local/education/more-schools-cancel-christian-sex-ed-program-emotions-run-high/article_9d69f8c2-1c92-55f4-ae62-03916f236b55.html

I was surprised that this was going on to begin with.

And I particularly enjoyed the picture of the guy standing outside a clinic being a JERK!!

katecho
katecho
7 years ago
Reply to  jigawatt

Perhaps off topic right here, but precisely on topic for Wilson’s “Virgins and Volcanoes” post a few days ago.

Here’s the money quote from jigawatt’s link:

Joy Maxwell, the curriculum coordinator for Best Choice, said that is
not the case. “The days of morality-based abstinence education are long
gone,” she said.

That statement is from the faith-based abstinence education provider, defending their legitimacy in the government school system. Quite an admission.

At this point it’s all about cajoling the kids not to have sex, void of any moral considerations. This is the environment that the progressives want to call “neutral”.

jigawatt
jigawatt
7 years ago
Reply to  katecho

At this point it’s all about cajoling the kids not to have sex, void of any moral considerations. This is the environment that the progressives want to call “neutral”.

And it’s still not acceptable.

You gotta give the progressives credit though – unlike conservatives, they don’t roll over and accept a laughably obvious pretense of neutrality. Outwardly they ridicule the term “culture war” but they know they’re in it.

Jeremy
Jeremy
7 years ago

Yes, that. Exactly. That’s the problem. I knew I wasn’t crazy.

Dave Matre
Dave Matre
7 years ago

I’m in your intended audience, but I won’t say I’m not crazy.

MMO
MMO
7 years ago

Having read some of your older posts, I’ve noticed you add a lot more humor and slapstick to your arsenal in recent years. Would you attribute any of that to Jonah Goldberg? You guys are quite similar in styles.

"A" dad
"A" dad
7 years ago
Reply to  MMO

Wilson may be grooming the nation to develop a greater appetite for dry humor!????

PerfectHold
PerfectHold
7 years ago

I read these little meals because you assemble, cook & present the ingredients in a clever way — which inspires rethinking certain meals from the ground up.

Chris Duncan
7 years ago

“I have often said that I write for the same reason that dogs bark” (Douglas Wilson).

Douglas Wilson: ” … you don’t ask the dog how do you, why do you …”

John Piper: “There’s somebody outside.”

Douglas Wilson: “There’s somebody out… ”

Douglas Wilson: “Yes. YOU may have a reason.”

[6:44-7:12]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6a3uoy-hrN0

Witty Piper comment and funny reaction by Wilson.

Shawn
Shawn
7 years ago

Pastor Wilson, thank you for your thoughtfulness in considering how to go about addressing such a large crowd where you can’t really see their individual faces.

I have at times been pierced by your bluntness, at times moved to tears, and of course not forgetting at times ending up laughing in a room full of quiet people.

Keep doing what you’re doing and may you continue to bless people in what you’re doing for God’s glory!

Ginny Yeager
Ginny Yeager
7 years ago

“And lo the trouble began.” Entering the culture wars is like a rugby scrum–lots of action, chaos and sometimes it’s hard to know which team is winning or even who has the ball. When the fans heckle you for playing, much less winning, I’m sure it can be quite perplexing.
I think you are nice too, Pastor Wilson, or should I say Morpheus?

John Warren
John Warren
7 years ago

You had me at “Mobius paragraph”.

John Warren
John Warren
7 years ago

Arggh! You go to the trouble of saying “occurreth” (and I love it) and then you say “Who am I addressing?”!
Grammar, man!

Great article, though.

Ashton
Ashton
7 years ago

“becometh.” I died laughing.