I’m in a weird place that I don’t know how to articulate, and I don’t have a clue where this post is going. So I’m going “old school” and just writing…writing to see if I can figure out what the message is in the process.
God and I used to write like that together a lot — I’d wrestle with something I couldn’t identify, and I’d finally feel ready to figure it out and I’d sit and write. And through the process of writing, I’d have my “eureka” moment and God would respond and I’d cry, and then the peace would flow all over me.
I miss those days.
I miss those days of writing for pure personal joy and contemplation…writing as a way to solve the riddle, finish the prayer, propose the question. It never started out as platform-building, or followership-growing or subscriber-list-gaining. It was always a method — a discipline that helped me draw in to God and closer to His truth and this method — this discipline, this process — was the cup of His hand. It’s where I always was and wanted to be.
And slowly over the last year or so, I’ve scooted up out of the center of His hand and onto the edge. And the process became a chore, and the end result became more important than the means, and I really miss the means.
Oh, how I miss the means.
In the past few weeks since I heard the no from the publisher, I’ve been in this place I haven’t been in a while. It’s a good place — a great place, actually — but it’s been different for me. I suddenly don’t feel like I have a whole lot to say. Or I do, but I’d rather keep it to myself…or chew on it more before just banging out a post for posts’ sake.
And the marquee in my mind scrolls over and over and over,
“Where fears are stilled, where strivings cease…”
And those little two words there on the end have become my only prayer. I want to be where strivings cease. And the last year has been striving — a whole lot of striving.
I’m so tired from all the striving.
This writing-platform-building-book thing…it’s a lot of work. And I want to work hard, I’m not afraid of working hard and I know it’s necessary. But the fine balance between hard work and striving is really blurry, and tipping into the flesh side of striving is so. very. easy.
And I’ve fallen into that side a lot. Too much, in fact.
Lately I’ve found I haven’t been as interested in what’s on Facebook, or lining up tweets in Hootsuite, or planning my posts ahead of time. I haven’t been pouring over others’ blogs or checking up on what’s the latest tweeted article. I’m not coveting every spare moment to pour into what’s good for the brand.
That’s weird for me — I have to be honest. And my flesh rises up and tries to convince me this is a detrimental, irreversible mistake.
But in the process, I’ve enjoyed my moments. I’ve run with the sun on my face and stopped to feel the fresh breeze and notice…really notice…how electrifyingly blue the sky is. I’ve snuggled with my kids on the couch and inhaled day-after-shampoo’d hair. I’ve read books on the back porch by the fire, and gone to the grocery store every single day because I’m still not good at meal planning. I’ve drank coffee later than 3 pm just because I’ve wanted to.
And all of these moments have been wonderful and unhurried and full of supernatural peace, and I’ve loved them.
I guess I’ve been in the quiet, and I love it here…a place where strivings have ceased, at least for the time being.
I don’t know what’s next — I have a list a mile long of things I think I should be doing, a list of things I want to do, and a list of things I’d like to not do. But right now, it all feels too murky and too heavy and too much.
So I think I’m supposed to sit in the quiet for awhile longer and just be.
I don’t know the last time I’ve had a season of be.
In a walk where be still and know is the crux and paradox of what we believe, I can’t remember the last time I actually embraced it. Or rather, I don’t remember the last time I’ve given myself permission to embrace it.
So here I am, embracing be, and enjoying my moments. And I have no idea what this means. I don’t know if this means I’m taking a break from blogging and writing, or if I’m just in an overly-contemplative mood right now. I don’t know if it means God has another path He wants to place me on, or if I just need a breather from all of the doing.
All I know is this: I love this season of be, and be-ing in the quiet. I love coming back here — to the means and not the end — and embracing this process.
So here I’ll stay — cocooned in the center of the Father’s hand — until He pours me out as an offering and with an anointing, and tells me that once again I am free to fly.
Until then, my friends…here’s to being.