Let’s
begin with the facts: I want to be a writer.
I want to proclaim the good news of the Lord, Jesus Christ, by telling
His story, as seen in the Word, as seen in my life, and as seen in the thousand
little glories He reveals to me each day through creation, relationships, and
all sorts of methods.
Now,
I’ve wanted to be a writer for a good long time, and I’ve had my successful
essays, stories, and journal entries, but not a whole lot of progress to show
for the last decade or so. I guess one
of the things I treasure most about these past years has been that I have
invested my time in acquiring technical skill, I’ve received experiences and
stories through trials and joys that are now a part of who I am and the story I
have to tell, and I’ve been able to spend long hours immersing myself in good
teaching and I've been “expanding the soul” by reading the more dignified
writings of scholars and poets alongside the fantastical and childlike
adventures of characters in all sorts of stories.
And
yet – what a safe thing it is, to criticize, but never submit my own work for
critique. It is like reading of
adventures without ever feeling that wild stirring of joy that moves us to
become more bold, more crazy, more noble, and to leave our own homes to meet
the unknown and have our own adventures.
I’ve
spent so much time reading good books and essays, treasuring high ideals, and
learning to recognize good writing when I see it, that now that I myself am
trying to write, my work appears to me like a piddling, ostentatious, little
scrawling thing, and I shy away from publishing each of my successive
potential-blog-post-essays, thinking, “Oh, a little edit here, a little edit
there, and maybe it will be good enough” – which of course turns into major edits,
major additions, and major subtractions, until I realize I’m not even using the
original idea at all anymore, and have pretty much started the whole process
from scratch with a new idea. Rinse and
repeat.
I
now have almost a dozen potential-blog-post-essays, each one a little better, a
little longer, and no more finished than the last. But today is September 6. And today, on this day, I am typing this
piece. This is my first draft, and I
declare here and now that I SHALL indeed post it today, without letting myself
edit that date to September 8, 9, December 1, etc.
I
have determined to lift my heart by remembering that every runner starts with a
baby’s weak steps, and that every writer starts by actually writing, not just
thinking of all the great ways to write.
But oh – how hard it is to begin!
I
do not mean to say that learning and reading are not highly valuable. They are!
But I think that maybe, by focusing on growing in truth, and reasoning
out what makes life good and worthwhile, that I’ve missed out on the freedom of
letting every season of life be grand and wonderful to my heart. I’ve forgotten to rejoice in little triumphs
because I think they are no good until I’ve reached the big triumphs. Maybe I’ve even forgotten that trials and
busy days are days to purposefully find His glory, instead of just waiting for
the day to be done. How humbling it is,
to really look at myself and discover that I’ve been happy enough to dream big
dreams, while continually postponing the effort it requires to attain those big
dreams.
Even
if I spend my time on this blog posting bullet lists and stilted prose, I’m
going to hit “publish” anyway.
Because
that is my dream. And more than that,
I’m beginning to realize more and more that writing is a significant part of
who I am made to be – not because I think I’m about to write anything radically
valuable, but because in my writing, I meet myself, and I meet my Creator, and
I discover things to ponder and treasure, to surrender and to celebrate. In writing, I find peace. It is my quiet place. It is the attainment of one of those BIG
UNKNOWN SOMETHINGS that always feels like it is around the bend, if only I can
get to it. All this striving, and all
along, it was right here. I can hear Him
saying, “Just surrender the work, Beloved, and write. Leave it all to me. Just enjoy this gift I have given to you, and
I will meet you there. I always do more
than you ask or imagine. Isn’t that what
you want most, anyway? That your writing
be Mine? Let go.”
So
this is my resolution. It is time to
dream. It is time to ponder. But more than that, it is time to actually
leave the safety of “home” and begin the adventure. It is time to become.
So
be it! Amen!
"Do not despise these small beginnings,
for the Lord rejoices to see the work begin, to see the plumb line in
Zerubbabel’s hand.” - Zachariah 4:10