I’m feeling overwhelmed with Pixel & Pulpit right now, and I think the honest move is to say that out loud instead of quietly letting it drift.
So here’s where I actually am.
This isn’t fitting into my life the way I built it to. I’ve got too much else on my plate. And — I’ll just say it — this space hasn’t been giving me life or making me feel fed lately. That matters to me. When the thing you made to feed other people stops feeding you, you have to at least name it.
So let me name it. The Digital Missional Network didn’t work.
And before I say anything else, I want to lament that, because I wanted it to work. I really did. The idea was a room where digital ministers could find each other and stop feeling like the only one. I believed in it. I built it. It was just more than I could offer.
I didn’t have the time to maintain it. Something like that needs tending every single day, and I already have a few things that need me every single day.
And it stings a little… I called this two years ago. In a post called “A Pivot, Post, and Path Forward,” I wrote that I wasn’t sure Pixel & Pulpit was the place to host those conversations — that a comment section is only as helpful as it can be. I said it, and then I went and tried to build the room anyway. So this isn’t news. It’s me finally listening to myself. I wish it had worked and I hope that I can find it some day. But, for now, it’s causing more harm than good.
While I’m being honest: I’m burnt out on writing about AI constantly. I feel this bizarre compulsion to write about every breaking news item and it causes me to go into a fatigue state and write nothing at all. AI news happens every single day, multiple times per day. But I don’t think I have to be the one responding to all of it.
I wrote a whole book about it. God and the Machine is out from Abingdon Press in February — six sessions, everything I actually have to say about faith and this stuff, in one place. That’s where the AI lives now. The articles here haven’t been coming at the rate I need, and I think it’s because I kept making myself write about the one topic I’m most tired of. Will I still write about AI? Sure. It’s everywhere. But I feel tied to it in a way that I think isn’t healthy.
So I’m at a crossroads, and I can see two roads.
One is jumping ship — letting Pixel & Pulpit just be the articles I’ve already written, and adding to it whenever I actually feel inspired. No pressure, no plan. This is what we’ve been doing for months now and I am not having much fun with it, to be honest.
The other is this one. Owning where I am, saying it plainly, and figuring out what I actually want from this space. I’m choosing that one. Obviously — you’re reading it.
I still can’t fully say what I’m willing to offer my time for in this place. I see a lot of peers in this space who have paid Substacks that really only exist as paywalled content, with no perks. Maybe that’s the right next step.
One good note in this bummer of a reflection: I know where there is life right now, because I feel it every time it happens: coaching. The one-on-one where a pastor just starting this journey says I don’t know how to do the thing you did, and I get to walk them through it. That’s the part that feeds me. Honestly, I’m open to more coaching students, I just don’t want to overcommit.
So going forward, Pixel & Pulpit is two things, and I’m not going to pretend it’s more.
If you want to support my work, paid subscriptions stay open. You’re not paying for a community I can’t keep up. You’re telling me the writing is worth something — and that genuinely helps me keep doing it. I still don’t want to paywall my work; it’s purely an optional way to support me as a ‘thank you’ for the work I do here on top of my job.
And I’m offering coaching. If you’re a digital minister, a nerd ministry leader, or a pastor staring at your own stalled thing wondering if any of it was real — that’s who I want to work with, and that’s where I’d like to see my best hours going. DM me if that’s something you’d like to discuss looking into.
I don’t fully know what this space becomes. I’m being real with you about that. But something had to give, and now it has — and what’s left is the part that’s still alive.
Thanks for being here while I figure it out. And for those who have left over my lack of attention to a good vision — I ask for your grace. I’m still here and I still vehemently believe in the digital church.