Do it anyway
When you write, it feels as if your words tumble out into a great, black gulf. You can’t see people’s faces. Can’t look into their eyes. You don’t know for sure if anyone is reading at all.
I think it was Elisabeth Elliott who gave this advice to writers: “Don’t write unless you can’t help it.” I know what she means.
To be honest (my very spleen is on display), it’s an odd mix of terrifying and exhilarating, putting your heart on paper for the world to see. It opens you wide, marks you for rejection, sets you up to be misunderstood. It’s possible, but if you’re born to do it, you really can’t help it.
When you’re writing like that, reaching waaaay down deep, not holding back, there’s – well, a piece of you in every piece. You can’t help it; you laugh and you cry when you do what you do ’cause otherwise it’s no good and there’s no power in it.
It’s scary for sure, and that’s why hitting “send” is an act of faith, a click of obedience, and there it goes and you hold your breath. Then someone says, “Thanks. It made a difference.” Or, “I laughed out loud.” Or, “You made me cry.” And you breathe again.
Hey, you. Guess what? You have a gift, too. There’s something you’re wired to do, and you’re really good at it.
I know; it’s scary, using that gift. Folks won’t always appreciate it. It will be ignored, overlooked, undervalued sometimes. But when you do what you do with all of your heart anyway, that’s called faith, and it’s called obedience. And guess what, friend? That puts you right in line for great blessing ’cause that’s the kind of heart that pleases Him.
So do it anyway. Use it anyway. Try it anyway. You’ll be blessed – He promised.