Saturday, December 31, 2016

Just write

How has it been over a YEAR since I've written on here?! I waited too long and the guilt finally won me over. But I am pumped & hopeful that I do well in starting this up again! Man, I missed it.

I don't know exactly what held me back all this time. I felt the pull over and over again, but I ignored it. I guess I was afraid. I take writing personally because it is an activity I closely bound to my identity, so the vulnerability to criticism that comes with sharing my words is not attractive.

The same reason I hesitate to publish my words is also what makes it easier to do so. Sometimes seeing writing as something that is "mine" gives me confidence and a yearning to let others in on it. I remind myself often: You are a writer. You write– and fairly often, therefore are a writer. It's a spiritual gift, and don't believe anything otherwise. It's odd, though, to think of myself as a writer. There is no job title or book or social platform to officially declare it true. It's just me. 

Recently, something seems missing in my writing. Maybe it's only an illusion– some false emptiness I think I needs to be filled, but there is really nothing to be filled in the first place. Maybe it's something I am neglecting to believe about God that is resulting in this writer's dilemma.

Whatever the case, I wish it was as easy for me to write as it used to be. I sit and stare at the blank page or screen, waiting for letters to appear one by one– but they don't come. I have to fight for them. Now I think too much, so there is no flow. I wring myself till I am worn to get sentences dripping. Looking back at my old posts and journal entries, I am blown away that they could have been by me. How in the world? Where did that come from? I was only 15!

Being a writer, as I so easily forget, is not all fluffy and glamorous. Though I love writing, it is challenging and every kind of exhausting. What I realize, though, is that it's mostly hard when I make it that way. It doesn't have to be– but I put pressure on myself to create profoundly worded truths to impress others, or work so hard to perfectly sum up everything I am experiencing so people will KNOW. I just want them to know.

The thing is– they are not always going to know, and that's okay. Not even I will always know. Some things aren't meant to be known. But He does, and that's what matters.

What I am learning is to release the pressure and write prayerfully. I don't always have to have the best words. I don't always have to have words, period. If this is what God has told me to do then by golly, what's stopping me? Writing is more rewarding than it is difficult, and I never remember that until I do it again. And when I am not thinking of what everyone else will think, the flow returns.

May my actions not be ruled by fear or pride, but instead my love for Him and desire to do His will, as I remember that to which He has called me. May He be glorified in all my words.

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