On Quotations and Tweets and Headlines. . .

I've always been a quote guy.

I love inspirational quotes. In my classroom I often use them as writing prompts. When reading a novel like The Great Gatsby or Pride and Prejudice, I'll pull out single sentences or phrases to present to the class in order to dissect in terms of meaning and value. We often started basketball practice by giving a player a quote related to basketball or life or both and asked them to comment on its application for our team. I collect quotes on reading and writing and Christianity and leadership, tucked away in random notebooks and computer files to find, or not find, some day. Several quotation collections stand ready on my bookshelf in my living room, or in my office collection, or in my desk drawer at school.

When I write, I use quotes. Several of my blog posts will begin with a quote from this book or that Bible verse or some news article. Quotations will occasionally color my sermons, shining wit and wisdom onto the audience from the projector screen above.

Twitter has revolutionized our thinking in many ways, and I must confess to adding to the social media noise. What can be said in 140 characters? A lot, apparently. Because everyone is finding a way to say it. Anything too long need not apply. Multiple clauses beware: we have neither the time, nor the inclination, to tolerate your complexities. Jubilation, inspiration, degradation, and emulation abound, requesting a favorite or retweet of approval, a personal public claim of tribe and creed and philosophy.

Roy Peter Clark writes in his book How to Write Short: Word Craft for Fast Times this blog-worthy (and tweet worthy) quote: "Americans love to be inspired by two-minute blasts of good writing." I couldn't agree more. I am one of them. Give me a succinct snippet of truth over my lunch hour any day. I just question our willingness to hang in there for a full two minutes.

Brief quotes, verse of the day apps, and book jacket excerpts are all well and good. I refuse to disparage them here. I preach concise writing. Foundational statements that can be quickly recited are necessary bones on which to build a company, a community, or a life. But we are tempted to believe life is as simple as those brief quotes, or those 140 character thoughts, or those 30-second news clips or talking-head diatribes, or even headlines. We want that to tell the entire story. We want it to be that simple. But it's so much more complicated than that.

These short bursts will not carry us through or address reality. If we are not careful, if we are as intellectually lazy as we are tempted to be, they will instead mask reality, serving as barriers to both speaker and listener, keeping questions and complexities at bay. They will inspire us for a moment without changing us for a day. They will confirm our assumptions and question nothing. They will tell us all we want to know - just enough to be confident, not enough to require more of us. The motivation will last as long as the source.

Can you describe yourself appropriately in one sentence?

Perhaps, then, prayer and Republicans and Muslims and joy and parenting and perseverance go a little deeper as well.

I remain a quotes guy who thinks they matter. I will continue to advocate for succinct writing and saying more with less. But those two minute blasts that Clark was talking about only really matter as a glimmer of the whole. Fitzgerald's final line pointing our boats against the current carries the most depth to those who have read of Gatsby's exploits. John 3:16 means a whole lot more in the context of the entire gospel message. The tweets of professional athletes are much deeper if. . . well maybe that's as deep as they go. Strike that.

To be responsible citizens, to be personally growth-minded, and most importantly to see truth and God more clearly, the headlines and tweets and storehouse of Google search results must only serve as reminders, as pictures of the mountain, not the mountain air itself. And I've never breathed in mountain air that wasn't worth the journey.