How far are we, as writers, willing to go in dedication to our craft? Some write for a release and as an outlet for expression. What happens when your hobby becomes an obsession? For what ends do I write? For recognition? For others to tell me how insightful or witty I am? Here I dig for my true motivation. I say it is for God. But is it? Or is it all just to satisfy my selfish needs?
As a Christian, I know I must serve. But where? How? If my words, no matter how inspiring, are born of pride or ego, then they only soil my faith.
I search for clarity. I search for truth.
If I can rip down the barriers of my insecurities and produce something revealing my true self, then perhaps I have done a service to someone and to my God.
So we kick ourselves in the pants every day pushing the envelope. We get stiff necks and fingers pounding out something that might stir someone to quiver with discomfort or delight… something that might move them for a moment at least.
We seek community, but also individual recognition – a most difficult balance if one cares to maintain integrity. How much am I willing to give in order to get? How much am I giving with no strings attached? Is there not even a gossamer thread that binds me to a darker motive? Upon closer inspection perhaps that thread has the tensile strength of thick piano wire and cutting it is like cutting a nerve.
By nature I am selfish, egotistical and proud. By the Lord’s grace, these faults have been attenuated, but not crushed. And I fear their obliteration as it will mean the death of me. He calls me to give more, yet how much more? I feel myself being pulled inside out. The Father is never ashamed of me, but maybe I am, so I look for every soothing word except His in my insecurity. If only I could be a simple man.
My resources are infinitely limited; His of infinite abundance. I must take my eyes off of myself and look upon the love He spilled out. His precious blood, His deep wounds… in these I find hope because I know what they mean. Holy Father… let my knowing become my being.
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