So I write. I am a writer.
I have been really struggling with this statement. It feels like it's too much about ME, and maybe it has been and that's why the timing hasn't been right and each time I've toed the edge of just jumping and DOING it, I've tucked my tail and promised to return on a clearer day.
I found myself saying to my sister, "I think I'm waiting for God to send me a paper airplane when I'm sitting on my bed in front of my waiting laptop- one that says 'HERE- THIS! WRITE THIS'." All else seemed too self-led, to self-absorbed, too self-inflated. Come to find out, that kind of doubt has the enemy written all over it. Some noble reason or justification that stifles His prompting as well as my spirit and my words, the things I'm beginning to be able to call- my gifts. To keep me silent, stagnant- wearing a sign that says "I'm waiting on the Lord's paper airplane."
There are beautiful times that we are indeed meant to sit, to wait, to abide. But- not without action. Even if the action we're lead to looks a lot of laziness to those type A people that scare me. But for the type B's like myself- it's not found in bookshelf avoidance, Vitamin D refusal, or in Netflix binge-ing. That's not waiting.
Purposeful waiting is action. Seeking Him despite the fact that it may not be the way we're used to or how we want to. In fact, that's typically the way it goes down.
So today when I got my butt handed to me by my pastor, my husband, and my sister, obedience looked a lot like hiding just for a little while longer reading Harry Potter for another day or so while convincing myself that JKR was just getting me revved up for when the Lord's writing will magically come to me. But what it truly looked like was sitting on my bed- realizing that my husband's music was distracting so shoving toilet paper wads in my ears- and staring at my laptop. But this time, it also looked like bowing my head and asking God for provision, for peace, and for courage. For me to take the leap from the edge I have been flirting with while waiting for a clearer day. Then I wrote. I refused to edit or re-read. and I was writing. I had written. I took action.
Sarah doubted too. She even laughed when God made His promise to her in the form of a child in what was surely the winter of her life. (Genesis 18) I wish I could say that all I've done is laugh when it has come to my kind of doubt. Doubt that he could get me sober, that he could provide financially through losing my job, that he could keep Kyle and I together, or most of all... that walking evidence of distance from Christ could be used by Him, for His purpose. For Good. For something beautiful.
Now I'm laughing because He provided. I'm here right now... sober, married, pregnant and writing on our Blog. Because there is no way any of this is mine.