I run away from myself. From writing. It’s essentially been months (and when I say months….I mean years) since I have written something substantial. Something that expressed something–or anything at all. I would keeping telling people, “Once I do such and such, I will begin writing more.” Once I change jobs. Once I get my own place. Once I move into a new place. Once I finish camp preparations. Once the laundry is done. Then, there were those “end of the world” musings and I thought I should wait and see if anything comes of it. THEN I will write.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I’d push it off and run from the very thought of pulling out my pen…or my keyboard as the case may be.
Which brings me to the “why”. Well, when I really think about it, it comes down to fear. What if I have nothing substantial to say? What if people don’t like it? What if they don’t read it? What if I discover something about myself I don’t like? What if I discover nothing at all.
So, let me clear some things up right now. This isn’t about you. What you think. Or if you have anything to say about what I think. It’s about me. There’s a piece of me that has been dormant for far too long and it’s increasingly restless. Not because I necessarily think I have anything of worth to say, but because I think God has something to say through me.
The other night I was thinking about Moses. I’m so much like Moses….the complaining Moses. The Moses that gave God excuses about why he couldn’t talk to the people. Yup. That’s me. “But God, I’m gonna say something wrong. I’m gonna sound dumb. People are gonna laugh at me.”
I want to be a faithful and obedient servant. I don’t want God to have to bring an Aaron along to do the talking.
The real reason for this blog: I hope that what I have to say would be an encouragement. That it would bring life to the dead. Bring refreshment to the thirsty. And somehow through the process, birth life and refreshment in me.