Sometimes we really don’t need someone to come along and give us a pep talk.
When life’s breaking us, we don’t need someone to come and shout, “Hey! You can do this! You’re amazing! Make your life whatever you want it to be! You are unstoppable!” because we’ve felt firsthand that those things are not right all the time.
We’ve all experienced failure.
We’ve hit roadblocks of all sorts.
We’ve felt that cluelessness when it comes to knowing what exactly we should do.
And so the pep talks often feel empty, shallow, phony. Hollow and falsely encouraging comments coming from people who seem to have their lives together when we do not.
Because often, instead of hearing “Hey, you’ve got this,” we long to hear Someone say, “I know this seems impossible, but I will be with you through all of it.”
The funny thing about writing is that it’s made up of so many ideas and so few realities. A lot of thinking, a lot of different visions of where to go – and then sitting down at the computer to actually write is often quite torturous.
Yes, I know I say I love this whole writing thing, but it’s really hard, alright?
There’s a lot of thinking involved. A lot of planning. A lot of daydreaming.
And then I sit down to my computer and the words don’t totally know where to go. They don’t know whether to form long sentences or short, to be sophisticated or poetic or blunt, to be precise or to be vague. They don’t know whether to arrange themselves into a concise doctrinal argument, or into a messy, heart-spilling session of vulnerability.
My author friend Kendra E. Ardnek’s newest book released yesterday, and I’m pleased to share it with you all.
So, you want to do something extraordinary?
Yeah, me too.
Make a difference. Change people’s lives. Bring hope to those seemingly hopeless. Impact, encourage, and inspire the world.
Sometimes, we just have this ache to…do something.
We see the model Christians over in Africa, digging wells and building schools, and those young teens starting nonprofits. We watch as people intervene in crises, take in refugees, adopt a houseful of kids, have this whole change-the-world-plan by age fourteen, and we’re over here in our cozy little homes drinking pumpkin spice lattes and sweeping the kitchen floor and feeling guilty.
Why do I even do this?
Deeply breathing, I eke out the words, one by one. And slowly, slowly, my fingers begin to glide over the keys, and I let my thoughts run.
I don’t really know what I’m doing.
Oftentimes, the words come out more vulnerable than I’d like them to be.
What if I’m not living the life I’m supposed to be living?
Sometimes that’s what life makes us.
When we see the tragedies in the world, our own selves falling apart, the world splitting with injustice, and evil, and suffering – we don’t know what to say.
In our heads, we know that God is all good, all powerful, and full of compassion and love.
Yet when life makes us ache, brings us to our breaking point, and the world shouts, “How could you believe in a God that allows you to suffer?” we’re often silent.
I have a love/hate relationship with that word; the whole concept of adequacy and fullness.
Because deep inside of me, there’s this longing to be truly enough…and an aching dread that I never will be.
I know that sounds extremely un-Christian and negative, so please do hear me out. This is something I think really needs to be addressed.
In a world that seems to require perfection, how can we, as imperfect humans, truly live freely?
I don’t want to write just to write.
I penned these words in my journal on July 17th, 2015, a time when I was wrestling with the difference between simply writing words, and writing words that mean something.
After timidly claiming the title of “writer,” I decided that maybe that wasn’t who I truly was.