Some days it is easier to write than others but I think it is the starting that is the hardest. I have waffled for days about having a set time where I start and write and finish a said amount of words, pages, ideas, or at bare minimum I have sat in front of a computer for the required number of hours.
But there is one thing that seems true about the pursuit, about why I started writing in the first place. And that is that I have discovered something worth continuing. It is a tangible tool in which I can in the short span of a day capture the beauty, the joy, the sorrow, the anger and fear, along with the occasional but no less powerful seconds of awe in which we are reminded of what C.S. Lewis might call out true home. These seconds are often over before we realize we were experiencing them and we have only the afterglow to linger in. Like coming out just after a sunset and having it described to you by a close friend. This might be a sunset, or a piece of music, the laughter of one of your children, the beauty of your wife folding clothes, a piece of poetry or a scene in a movie with which a piece of you shares a full understanding. These moments speak to that somewhere deep inside us where we are reminded of a memory of a memory, something greater and more true than we can possibly handle in our current simple state. This is the simple pursuit of writing to me. It may be sculpting, painting, sport, fathering and parenting, there are any number of things that can remind us of our truest place and home in eternity. But for myself, today in what I have been insight into, writing it my avenue of expression and something close to what one might truly view as adoration or worship via then pen and written word. It may not even be good, but it does not have to be good for God. Most drawings handed to a parent by a child hold no intrinsic value, they are less than worthless, except that the child gives them freely and holds them as a gift worth giving. It is created personally as a gift, and in that the father laughs and cherishes them.
It is no wonder then these things, the things in which our hearts truly come alive, are the most sought after by the enemy. It is the first thing to go in our planning and the thing we always plan for "later." These are the things we are so easily distracted from. And when we become so obstinate about committing to them that we actually do them with sincerity the voice whispers telling us to compare our work with others and reminds us how little they do compared to you. The voice or the enemy desires to twist it to become a sources of pride.
I bought a ticket to a conference today to pursue writing. The trip will take me across the country, cost me some money, and time, but I am excited. I suppose, like the servants given the talents Jesus talks of, one must pursue their giftings with risk and abandon. To gain much much must be risked. Its a small risk, but it's a start. At the risk of using the often abused Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Frodo's first step towards Mordor only took him through the Shire. I am still in the Shire but I am learning the pursuit is worth the cost.
But there is one thing that seems true about the pursuit, about why I started writing in the first place. And that is that I have discovered something worth continuing. It is a tangible tool in which I can in the short span of a day capture the beauty, the joy, the sorrow, the anger and fear, along with the occasional but no less powerful seconds of awe in which we are reminded of what C.S. Lewis might call out true home. These seconds are often over before we realize we were experiencing them and we have only the afterglow to linger in. Like coming out just after a sunset and having it described to you by a close friend. This might be a sunset, or a piece of music, the laughter of one of your children, the beauty of your wife folding clothes, a piece of poetry or a scene in a movie with which a piece of you shares a full understanding. These moments speak to that somewhere deep inside us where we are reminded of a memory of a memory, something greater and more true than we can possibly handle in our current simple state. This is the simple pursuit of writing to me. It may be sculpting, painting, sport, fathering and parenting, there are any number of things that can remind us of our truest place and home in eternity. But for myself, today in what I have been insight into, writing it my avenue of expression and something close to what one might truly view as adoration or worship via then pen and written word. It may not even be good, but it does not have to be good for God. Most drawings handed to a parent by a child hold no intrinsic value, they are less than worthless, except that the child gives them freely and holds them as a gift worth giving. It is created personally as a gift, and in that the father laughs and cherishes them.
It is no wonder then these things, the things in which our hearts truly come alive, are the most sought after by the enemy. It is the first thing to go in our planning and the thing we always plan for "later." These are the things we are so easily distracted from. And when we become so obstinate about committing to them that we actually do them with sincerity the voice whispers telling us to compare our work with others and reminds us how little they do compared to you. The voice or the enemy desires to twist it to become a sources of pride.
I bought a ticket to a conference today to pursue writing. The trip will take me across the country, cost me some money, and time, but I am excited. I suppose, like the servants given the talents Jesus talks of, one must pursue their giftings with risk and abandon. To gain much much must be risked. Its a small risk, but it's a start. At the risk of using the often abused Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Frodo's first step towards Mordor only took him through the Shire. I am still in the Shire but I am learning the pursuit is worth the cost.
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