Fasting, Floppies, and Forgotten Files

Recovered from the archive by request!

I deleted this because basically it was sent to my free subscibers’s to let them know there would be a pause whilst I think what to do next…

Ooh, did you like that? You wait for ages, and then four f’s arrive like a fleet of London buses all at the same time!

So, here’s the thing. This is the 305th post of First Edition (there’s more secretly stashed in the digital folder). Which means I’ve not only resisted the urge to quit but have somehow also avoided wearing my fingers down to a stump. Just about.

I’m taking a breather. Not from faith (don’t be daft). Not from writing. Just a pause to think.

Three failed books sit behind me like forgotten sermons at the back of an old chapel; all taunting. One of them - The Release of the Dread Champions - got the red pen treatment from Jill, wife of Mike (one of my subscribers and who acted as Minister for the day when Kerry and I got married). The kind of proofreading that makes you want to repent and rewrite your entire life. Every page a lesson. Every comment a jab and a gift all at once. I hated it. Then I realised I needed it. It made me more present. Sharper. Not just in how I write, but how I listen - to people, to Scripture, to the Spirit.

Then there was Nestia - a book on fasting. That one vanished into the black hole of Surbiton public library’s book release magnet. A victim of floppy disks that really were more floppy than they should’ve been. Every chapter gone. Interviews with doctors. Day-by-day fasting notes. Lost to history or at least a poorly labelled folder.

And then the third. The stories behind the stories. A prophetic figure whose words had a an astonishing level of accuracy - before the days of social media. That bunch of word docs still exists, hidden on a dusty computer I inherited. Waiting. I suspect it’ll come alive again. Not because it’s so audacious and profound, but because there are still stories that matter. The same applies to you and your stories. The kind where God speaks. Not just in the swirl of Sunday but in the silence of a Tuesday afternoon.

I’ve wondered lately if we need to bring back the simple accounts. Not just stories of exploits or visions or dreams, but those early saints who’d read ten chapters before breakfast and pray until heaven broke in. Not performative. Not for show. Just ordinary people caught up in a holy habit. Maybe that’s the book. Or maybe that’s a letter for another Friday.

To those who’ve recently subscribed, expecting something theologically dense and strangely free to arrive in your inbox like a gift-wrapped scroll from Sinai - sorry. First Edition will return soon. Just not this Friday. There are too many half-finished drafts sitting on the shelf of my laptop. They’re restless. They’ll fly soon.

For now, enjoy the silence. Or the shorter, less theological emails that won’t ask you to think quite as hard. They’re fine. But they’re not First Edition and like this, not always free!

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9). That’s how I feel about my ‘stuff’ that arrives in your email box. It limps. It stammers. The day before it arrives with you I look at it, it looks at me as if to say “what - really?” and then I click ‘publish’. But grace carries it - that’s my intention. Every time.

More soon. Just not today. Actually, it’s back!

~ Jon

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UPDATE: Normal business has resumed; First Edition is scheduled for 7.00am (GMT) on Friday …