I write out of the day. the emotions, the thoughts, the convictions, the . moments, the mess, the glory. All of it comes to the surface and tumbles out in poetry and pain. The words rush forth and establish themselves in black and white. The passion and the raw truth is a bit much at times. the release and the permission I feel allows for their expression.
If I wait, if I pause and consider their effect, they recede and hide, buried once again. The rich goodness and grace, their purpose and potential fruit borne of their sowing, then, must wait.
One of my precious cousins stopped me recently, looked into my eyes and asked me how I was doing. Then she grabbed me and asked again, “No, HOW are you doing, really?” She said she had read some of my writing and was concerned for me.
The query made me stop and think. I had learned in a writing course that one should not write in the midst of great trial and tribulation. At least not write for publication. They recommended that a writer should work through the ‘stuff’ and write out of the healing and the victory of those times. My spirit balked at this instruction. Perhaps there is indeed wisdom in not dragging one’s readers through the mud. My cousin’s sweet gentle question, filled with compassion, reminded me that other people reading about my pain and weary travels may feel the pain as well; and if they never hear the outcome of the trials, they may miss the victories.
Is personal pain too much to share in a public venue?
Is the human experience to be hidden or tucked away until it is properly polished?
Is confession of sin to be secret?
Is faith too private to be loud?
These questions I pose in public, are to be answered in the quiet of your own hearts.
For me, this scrawl is an expression of what a powerful and Living God is saying to me. It is the meanderings of a road traveled. The struggles are real with a victory at their end.
The battles are a part of the greater war that, like it or not, we are all involved in.
The good news is that we know the outcome. We Win!
Jesus gave of Himself as a sacrifice that pays once and for all a debt we owed. The enemy of our souls has been defeated. He cannot succeed.
Yep. We still wear skin and are made up of blood and bone; but within us lives a heart that is mighty and REDEEMED!
So, road that we travel with sticker bushes and barbed wire, with thunder and lightening and floods and fears, deserves to be spoken about as past tense and no longer- because we walk out of it into the LIGHT. And truth is, our feet are headed for streets of gold.
I cannot apologize for the empathetic pain that is felt as these words are read. I can only ask forgiveness for taking so long to get to the point.
Believe me, amidst the tears and the ramblings, is an abiding sense of humor. I laugh at my own humanity and I am certain that God laughs with me. It is a holy laughter of pure love and enjoyment as this child dances and falls, tripping over my own feet and then reaching out to grab hold of that Mighty Hand held out to help me up. Once I am up, I am once again that winged warrior taking off for greater heights.