Okay, I give up. I give up that I don’t feel like writing and that it’s too much work. Because for whatever reason I have been unable to shake the desire to write even after months of feeling very uninspired about actually sitting down and doing it.
Really, I’ve tried over and over again to convince myself that I’m done for good. And some of the arguments are quite convincing, even noble. But then I feel it again, that need at some level to express what is going on inside me and in my life in the written word. Not that I think I’ll ever be an author per se, or that what I’m writing will really make much of a difference to anyone in particular or the world in general, or even that more than one or two folks will ever read what I’ve written. Whatever this is that won’t allow me to let go seems to just be about writing down my experience of living my life at the foot of the cross, period. So rather than ask myself why I want to write, I’m just asking myself, “Why not?”
Okay, so the main reason why not is so typical it’s almost too silly to mention- I’m afraid of what people will think; about me, about my writing, about my motive, about my topic. And that thought, oddly enough, just gave me the “Why”.
This writing for me is a form of worship. It comes from the overwhelming joy that I feel from Jesus being water and air and life to me – me, the one who used to call Him the “J” word and cringe. Since my conversion my life is so profoundly altered, so wonderful and different and amazing that I cannot keep it inside. I need to express it in every way possible, even if it means I am judged by the world as a bad writer, and even if the whole world knows I love Jesus and condemns or ridicules me for it.
So here’s to my future in cyberspace, however fruitful or unproductive it may be.
