Into the Fire

There’s this love/hate thing going on with my writing. I can’t honestly tell you I don’t like my own writing. But these surges of detesting it, fearing its value, the embarrassment of having written any/all of it often scuffles with and knocks down all my attempts to remind myself that I have read each of the stories innumerable times in the proofing and editing processes and smiled, laughed, even cried (it’s true) while reading them. Either I’m my own biggest fan or there’s something there for someone. My test readers of varying ages, both male and female, have honestly enjoyed the novels, too, so the fear and loathing comes every time I consider submitting any of them again.

Really it’s the flesh. The flesh yearns for praise, for acceptance, for glorification even. Nasty stuff that flesh. Leads us down all kinds of bad roads, evil scenarios of fame and fortune, status and stardom.

Achieving those things is not evil. It’s when they supercede what the Lord has ordained for us that they become sinful and undesirable. When the striving for recognition outweighs the desire to maintain humility, yes sir, it’s ugly. And haven’t most of us been there? Honestly? We envision the bestseller lists and see our names at the top. The next so and so in multi-million dollar sales. People clamoring for our attention, recognition, our signature, our ideas. Wow. How would you handle that?

Adoration. Reserved for One. The only One who makes anything good and perfect happen. Certainly not for any man or woman. The world is filled with idols—human idols, idols made of stone, brass, and wood, beautiful works on a canvas, sculptures of marble or bronze, books and writings, collectors’ items. All made by human hands. Easily destroyed by the elements or the weather. Fascinating how we make them nearly priceless.

Have you ever decided why you want people to read your work(s)? I have. It’s not because I want them to be in awe of the writing itself because I’m fairly sure they won’t be. It’s because I want them to experience the joy, despair, and passion of the characters as they experience the lives within the pages of the stories, and within that framework I want them to decide where they’re at with the Creator of the universe.

Because nothing else in all the world matters as much as that decision. We puff up all kinds of arts, history, medicine, science, but what really matters at the end of life whenever it arrives? The one relationship which changes our eternity. The one with Jesus Christ.

So, what do we do when fear and loathing set in? Pray and give thanks to the One who made it possible to write in the first place. It’s work given by and given to Him. He’s not afraid of anything—He’s got it all under control. That usually takes care of it . . .

Father, you are the One I aim to please. Help me to stay focused on you and your desires for me. Let my writing honor you and further your Kingdom somehow, some way. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.