I am, in my imaginings, certain that others, who hold the pen, take a break with a great deal more flourish and grace than I ever could. They certainly announce their breaks or give substitute reading from peers who are currently exercising their writing.
I have never been that graceful. I usually just abruptly get up and exit the room, or I run shamefacedly away into the outer darkness to hide away or become endlessly distracted.
These breaks seem to occur more frequently than I would choose, and yet, perhaps for the reconstruction or remodeling or whatever this is, I have to suspect that my Father God is leading me to a place that is far better than this.
What is it that He has for me to say?
What track am I running on and where am I going in this journey?
What majestic mountains does He need me to see?
The words don’t run out. They are bottomless.
The thoughts never stop…there are strings of conversations that go on in my head. There are the weavings of poetry. There are hours and hours of stories that gather up and proceed out of my mouth during walks through the trees.
This profound and beautiful gift that I steward is not an easy one to corral, or even to direct. It is a wild thing that remains untamed and cascades out in passionate moments of release, it is a quiet simmering pot of comforting soup that soothes tangled nerves and wraps a blanket around scars. This is such the state of my writing.
When I pause, it is because I think I must control it. I forget that it is really the stuff not made by me at all but the gentle nudging of Holy Spirit reaching out to the listening ears.
When am I going to ‘get’ that concept and continue doing what my King has asked of me?
Instead, I lurk around the edges, spying out the enemies in foreign lands, recounting the giants and the difficulties of proceeding into a promised territory.
Quietly, the Lord waits. He woos me, he beckons, he embraces, but He does NOT push me.
I climb up trees and daydream. I walk, meandering through the bush. I stumble over my demons and try to run from their grip. I look for and find plenty to keep my hands and mind busy so that I do not have to sit still and listen, let alone, obey. I look at everyone else wrestle with their stuff and bathe them in prayer but forget to just wait upon the Presence of the One who will actually do the writing.
So this, my friends, is me confessing my lack; me admitting to the deficit in my character which the Savior is so tenderly seeking to transform. This is me disappointed in myself, once again, berating myself and wearing shame like a badge when the truth of the matter is… I have been trying to do this in my own strength, looking for the accolades of men and forgetting that I answer ONLY to the one true God, who somehow bridged the gap with His own precious Son so that this, the writing, could be used in a supernatural and beautiful way AND that I would stop calling myself what I am not!
I am NOT a failure!
I am not a shame to God or anyone else!
I am NOT forgotten.
I am NOT the fixer.
What I am is known!
I am forgiven.
I am incredibly FREE!
I am successful.
I am creative.
I am part of a royal priesthood.
I am a child of the Mighty God.
I am a listener, a hearer, a feeler.
I am a servant.
I am a part of all that God is doing in HIs Kingdom across the earth.
So as I walk forward, gingerly, with careful steps, seeking after what God would have me say, I invite you along, once again, on the journey.
I suspect that toes will be crushed, that well-constructed premises may tumble, that well-loved lies will be exposed…in me. I will ask forgiveness for the difficulties this might create for the reader, but I cannot apologize for what God wants to do in us. He has a reason for pouring Light out on us. It may not be comfortable, but it will be good.
To quote Mr Tumnus, in The Lion the Witch andThe Wardrobe when answering Lucy’s question about Aslan, “Of course He is not safe, but He is Good.”
Bless you my dear ones,
Betsy