True Life: I'm Addicted to Journals

When it comes to talking, I'm not so good with the words.

They get all mixed up and twisted. 

Which is why I enjoy writing. It gives me time to think. Time to space things out. I write a lot of short paragraphs and leave a lot of space to breathe. 

Because this is how I think. 

Somewhere between the thinking and the saying, the words get crammed together, put out of order, and the empty spaces filled with random prepositions, uhhs or ummms, and all manner of incomplete sentences. If you think this would be annoying for say, my husband, you're right; however, imagine being the person who can't get what is inside of her head out without repeating herself a few times. This is exhausting. (That was dramatic, it's not that bad. Only sometimes.) 

Between the thinking and the writing, there's much less disconnect. For this reason, I write out my prayers. 

Not because Jesus wouldn't be able to understand me if I spoke them. He's cool like that. It's more for my own sake. It's a lot faster to just write them out

I've filled up a lot of journals over the years. Every once in awhile I crack them open. My first one, started in seventh grade, is written almost entirely in gel pen. 

Like, duh. 

Anyone remember these babies?

So now, I've charted my thoughts for over a decade. Crazy.

The contents are far from spectacular by any human measurement. It's the grit of my own personal faith and as such probably wouldn't appeal to anyone but me... and Jesus. 

There's a lot of pages filled with angry, large, loopy cursive that's occasionally blotted out by tears. 

There's a lot of pages written in small, fine, and perfect script, like how you would write a love letter to someone for the first time. 

And many more pages about halfway in between, with handwriting that looks like how a good conversation feels, if you get my meaning. 

Even the journals themselves speak a lot. Some are covered in beautiful fabric, some are plain notebooks, some leatherbound. There's quite a few that were well loved and some that looked like they were barely handled. 

My life is etched on paper. My long, meandering walk with God, my relationship with my husband, my friends, my family, my son. The glorious moments and the ones full of shame. It's all there. 

Maybe one day I'll hand them to my daughters and tell them to glean what they can, from both my silly moments & serious ones. (I guess my sons can read them too, but they may not appreciate the gel pen as much.) 

What do you do when you have a lot of words?

Lately I've become disillusioned with my dreams/goals that have to do with writing. I spend fifteen minutes cruising the web and think, Truthfully, does this world really need more opinions? 

This is a very sad question for someone like me to come across, as sharing my opinion is something I really love to do.

I used to think it was necessary because there's a lot of other people sharing their opinions that are different than mine, and isn't balance important? (Read: I'm right and they're wrong and everyone NEEDS to know this.)

Then I realized Jesus didn't "share His opinion" that often, except to the Pharisees. He more often than not told stories and seemed to be more about the doing than the saying. I wonder, sometimes, if Jesus walked the earth today, would He facebook, tweet, blog? Would He communicate grace through a social network and within 140 characters?

Or would He be that neighbor that you always see outside talking to other people in the neighborhood. Getting to know people, stepping into their lives graciously, cracking jokes, living life alongside people in a quiet way that changes them. You know, one of those people that's really good at loving others in real life. Not from behind a computer screen or a smartphone.

Before you think I'm spiraling into a pit of cynicism or attempting a poorly shrouded, tongue-in-cheek statement about how we're all addicted to the internet, let me say that these are genuine questions my heart has been turning over. I recognize the good that comes from the the ability we have to communicate in this day and age.

And not to point out the obvs... but I do have a blog.

Here's the question(s) I'm asking: What is the most God-glorifying way to use this gift of words? What's a worthy investment of my time while on this earth? Blogging? Writing a book that (best case scenario) a decent amount of people read, share their opinion about my opinion, and then forget about it?

I also don't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Words are still powerful tools, and I feel God has gifted me with the ability to put them together in a powerful way.

I'd rather spend my life writing love letters to my husband, lunchbox notes for my children, and making every birthday, get well, or "just because" card I send the best. card. ever., speaking words of truth & life & encouragement into the daily routine of those around me, than write one book that does nothing more than sit on people's shelves.

Two things that break my heart: when people miss the love of Jesus and when they miss it because someone did a bad job of communicating it, whether by words or action, both of which this woman has been guilty.

Because of this, when I write something and think, "Yes. That's it. That's as close as my humanity will allow me to communicate the grace that breathes for me," my soul feels a step closer to my Heavenly Father. Sometimes I'm so full of words about Him that they bubble out of me and land on whoever is closest. Ask my husband.

I know I'm supposed to write, because it's how I worship; and, I don't want to attempt to use for my own glory what God gave me to use in the holy moments between He and I.

So I only write of how God has changed me, how He woos me, how well He loves me.

How He flooded my life with life. With a husband and now a son. With a biological family that is also a spiritual one. With friends that breathe grace with me.

For me, this is what's worth writing about.

Loose Cannon

Do you ever feel yourself throwing advice at people with cannon-like force? Hurtling words at a million miles an hour; words that, though born of good intentions, are aimed to fix rather than love?

In the world of spiritual giftedness, I know there are some who are able to discern what is wise and communicate it well, but like any strength, it is bound by it's weakness. 

I wonder if arrogance fetters my passion for truth & healing more than I realize. 

It is a constant lesson for me to learn. To bathe truth in grace, or remove my own fears & paradigms from someone else's problem before telling them, "Well, here's what I would do...."

A word has been growing in my soul lately. Something that comes out in my prayers and thoughts and writing. Lift.

For some reason this word has cooled the fire of pride before I blast someone with unnecessary, "pearls of wisdom." The Spirit tells me to lift them up. To lift their hearts up toward Christ, being willing to hold my arms extended with a strength not my own. 

Lifting does not involve shredding the soul of dignity with assumptions & maxims. 

So, this is my prayer:

That He will teach me to lift up others before Him, allowing His words to divide the soul & spirit, rather than trying to do it myself.