Into the Fire

On recent posts and some not so recent ones, I’ve emphasized how we can think of ourselves more highly than we ought. We can enter into this kind of self-focused cocoon because of our passion for writing.

While some people have the capability to feed off the energy at a Starbucks or elsewhere with their laptops or pads and pens and others write while an array of boisterous or laid back tunes pulse from their stereos or ipods, a lot of us prefer to, and do, write in isolation, some of us in isolation and relative quiet.

Some “young”-in-the-experience writers seek out innumerable blogs and websites for instruction and a form of internet mentoring as they pursue the construction of a novel which some of them hope will set the new standard for publishing excellence. You have only to read their comments on various sites to understand their intent.

And, frankly, I don’t blame them for those intentions. Why would anyone want to dash hopes? It’s not about crushing dreams when a dose of reality is dispensed. It’s about helping with perspective. After all, don’t we all want our writing to matter? To someone? Besides ourselves? And, for some, if they’re honest, they’ll admit “besides God”.

The inevitable argument will be something that stresses how deeply a writer wants to touch other souls with their work—enlighten, entertain, impress, plant a seed, water the lawn, harvest the growth, arouse the deep questions, provoke thought, offer no conclusions, give solutions . . . We’ve either heard it all or said variations of it all ourselves. And even in our admissions and claims, we begin to understand the path we want to follow is often piled high with underbrush and blackberry bushes, and no matter how much we hack our way through the prickly mess, there’s just more of the same.

If we write for any other option than for our self-expression within a journal, we do want it to matter. As you know, my first reason to write is in obedience to the Lord. There just isn’t any other plausible reason for me to do it. Why would I? Yeah, it’s fun. Sometimes. Yeah, I love to create characters and scenarios, but without God’s directions, I couldn’t. It really is that simple for me. However, I do want this writing to matter. I do. But why?

There can only be one reason in my life and that is because God has given me something to do, and therefore I want it to matter, not only to Him, which I know it does, but also for Him. If I make words into books, then I want those books to touch someone for Him. Somehow I want the Lord to take that offering and multiply it. Provide a purpose for it. And in that respect I want to matter. I want my work to matter. I want it to be a testimony of what God can do in a life without any other valid reason for creativity. However He allows those novels to touch others is up to Him. Just because I wrote them doesn’t insure a goal of traditional publication. Obviously for me.

The idea of mattering is not objectionable when it’s entwined with the will of God, the hope of serving Him, and the expression of Him working through us. If some kind of acclaim results—by that I mean if a single soul is touched or if many resonate with it— then we pass the praise on to the lap of Jesus where it belongs, and we savor the fact that what we’ve done in obedience to Him matters.

“For it is not the man who commends himself who is approved, but the man whom the Lord commends.” 2 Corinthians 10:18

Father, as a writer doing what you’ve called me to do at this time of my life, let what I write matter to you and for you. That is my sole and soul desire. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

*Please pray for Kristy Dykes.*