Four years ago God told me to start a blog. I know. I sound crazy. New Years’ Day had fallen on a Sunday. I was at church, wide-eyed and wet behind the ears with fresh expectation. I’d just sung my heart out when we sat down for prayer and it was there I felt Him whisper to my heart.
It was new and strange and more than a little exciting. You’re calling me to do something? Love it. Now what’s a blog again?
After clearing the various hurdles, I started testing the water, posting things here are there. It was exhilarating. Over time, though, my devotion has waxed and waned. If this writing journey had a title, Stops and Starts would be an appropriate one.
I look around this wide online space. I see beautiful women–funny women, women I could be friends with–just killing it. They’ve published seventeen books and blog every day, posting humorous quips or spiritually deep truths on social media to boot. Deep down I know I’m not competing with them. We’re all responding to a God who, daily, inspires poetry and song. But it’s easy to feel like my voice doesn’t matter. Like it won’t ever be heard above the din.
When it comes to writing and posting on a consistent basis, it feels like a gigantic sheet of plastic is draped up at the end of my nose and, every time I step forward, I can’t push all the way through.
In a non-writing spell, everything is a bit duller. Sure, the world is full of wonder and cause for praise and thanksgiving. I have no reason to complain. But when I’m writing the leaves look greener, the birds sing louder, the flowers smell sweeter. Surprises await me at every turn if only I set my pen to paper.
I could lie and say this is for you, but it isn’t. I’m a junkie and this is my drug. I just need the grit and resolve to keep using.
Holy Spirit you are welcome in this place. Would you help us feel alive again?