On Not Writing

Two nights ago, I sat down to write and nothing came out. 

It was very frustrating because the writing had a deadline. But the words and ideas said "nope."

The setting was so perfect too! A cozy fire, a snuggly living room, a cup of hot tea, no boys in the house, and even a cuddly dog. Nothing says, "Come write in my environment of perfection" like that scenario, you know? 

But no. Something was off, and I couldn't do it.

Something in my spirit was halting me, holding me back, and it wasn't just writer's block. I had all the drive, all the momentum, every desire to write beautiful words in front of this beautiful fireplace, and then post a beautiful Instagram and make a beautiful name for myself. And my spirit said no. 

Not this way.

Not the gilded, disintegrating words that flow from a spirit of self-promotion and hustle. 

I knew that it was true. That if I wrote from a heart that was desperate for affirmation and success, those words would fail.

Still Waiting

So I waited. I wrote nothing. The deadline is getting closer and I've still written nothing. 

And I'm still waiting. And I think that's okay. 

I'm waiting for the Lord to release me and say, "Yes. These are my words. This is the spirit of humility that I want to give you. It want to give you the freedom to know it's not about you. This is about rejoicing in me and my glory." 

So until my heart takes a step in that direction of humility, I'm not going to write a word. Because they will be about me and my own glory, and they will crumble every time. 

So I still want to be all the things. I still want my words to reach all the places. But until they're the Lord's words, I really don't want that at all. I don't want the shiny thing on the horizon of my future to take my eyes off of what is here and now.

I want to know this: that if I don't have what I want yet, then I have something better. And it's called right now. 

The Right Now

And the gift of "right now" looks like picking up three 4th graders from school and taking them by Family Dollar to get some after-school chocolate. It's watching those same ten  year olds rap about Dairy Queen and texas toast. It's driving a massive van home from the shop so five middle school boys can feel like the coolest kids at youth group. 

It's not knowing when my next moment of free time will be or when I will be able to workout next or what my day will look like at all. That is so hard but so good for me. 

It's waking up to Christmas lights and cold toes and a pine-scented candle and my entire apartment smelling like coffee. 

It's making eggs & deer sausage with Carrie, warming up our coffee all morning long, and making lists on any scrap of paper we can find. It's having the house burst with little boy noises of basketball dribbles and wrestling and pranks and delirious laughter. It's getting to see the nuts and bolts of parenting and communication and family dynamics at an age where I can respect and appreciate it.  

It's sometimes finding myself in draining situations but choosing to put one foot in front of the other and push myself toward deeper maturity.  

It's sometimes finding myself in the deepest, most life-giving situations and not knowing how to fully express my gratitude or savor those moments forever. 

It's being hit with unexpected waves of grief and riding them out with grace, tears, and time. 

It's battling lots and lots of shame. Thank goodness He's called me to fight that now. 

It's moments where my ambition turns to frustration and makes me turn to the Father and cry, "Help! I want all these things, but I want to follow you too." 

So I'm turning my gaze to Him, more like prying my fingers off of something I desire, because I desire the way of God more. I want to choose to trust Him--that He knows, that He has a plan, that He's not surprised by my ambitions but pleased with them. And He's pleased when I hold them out to Him and say, "help." 

This is all such a process and a journey, but I want to trust that He will give me words when I need them.  

As my dear writer-friend, Katie, encouraged me, "Oh, friend. He is honored by both this desire that you're recognizing and running toward. He is honored when we walk in our identity. He is honored and glorified when we trust Him enough to know that the stalling out is not us not being good enough but a signal to, once again, seek Him first." 

"Why our belligerence? Why does this whiff of fame
and power smell so sweet?
Why must we compete
to be first? Have we forgotten
how you took, so simply, cool water
and a towel for our feet?"

- Luci Shaw from "He who would be great among you..."