Greater Challenges
It's funny how much fear cripples us.
I have so many fears. Slowly — perhaps too slowly — I am learning how to cast them on God and be renewed. Some day, perhaps over a few beers, I can unravel my fears to you. We can both have a good laugh, maybe a good cry, and a few good beers of course.
Today, I had a mild but surprising fear: I feared that my writing would not be good enough.
Now, I say it's a surprising fear not to presume my writing is always good, but I like to think I've embraced the fact that I have to write. I like to think I've gotten through the thicker portion of fear when it comes to typing my own words.
It's a broken planet, comrades. Entropy is a thing. Sin is a creeping death that — though it no longer stains those washed by Christ's blood — it can still cast shadows on circumstances. And fear is a popular byproduct.
I did have a cool realization today though: fear is the same old poison it always has been. Sometimes, I like to pretend that I'm mounting up to greater challenges, greater sins, greater fears. I like to think my story is becoming more and more grandiose. And it is! It is. God works wonders, and he expands our hearts for new joys — but that is His work, not mine. I don't make the thingies grand. I just give my thingies to Him and let Him expand me according to His good grace.
Thus, my fears aren't any fancier than they used to be. Thus, as always, I just have to cast them at God and press forward in faith — even just with my writing, even just with my haphazard story about Michael the Traveler.
In most cases, then — when I've squeezed out the fear with prayer and supplication — I'm left with this tedious thing that looks like work.
One of my favorite lessons that I learned from one of my creative writing students is that — however much time you spend writing — you are that much closer to your specific objective: whether it be publishing a book, writing that love poem, telling your own story, etc.
She described it as "x minus one." Whatever your goal is, whatever your x is, when you write for one hour (or just one page or just one paragraph), you've subtracted 1 from how long it will take you to reach your goal.
So my lesson for you and me today: when the fear mounts up again (and it will; it always does), press forward. If you write crappy drivel now, that's crappy drivel you won't have to write later.
Just keep writing.
I have so many fears. Slowly — perhaps too slowly — I am learning how to cast them on God and be renewed. Some day, perhaps over a few beers, I can unravel my fears to you. We can both have a good laugh, maybe a good cry, and a few good beers of course.
Today, I had a mild but surprising fear: I feared that my writing would not be good enough.
Now, I say it's a surprising fear not to presume my writing is always good, but I like to think I've embraced the fact that I have to write. I like to think I've gotten through the thicker portion of fear when it comes to typing my own words.
It's a broken planet, comrades. Entropy is a thing. Sin is a creeping death that — though it no longer stains those washed by Christ's blood — it can still cast shadows on circumstances. And fear is a popular byproduct.
I did have a cool realization today though: fear is the same old poison it always has been. Sometimes, I like to pretend that I'm mounting up to greater challenges, greater sins, greater fears. I like to think my story is becoming more and more grandiose. And it is! It is. God works wonders, and he expands our hearts for new joys — but that is His work, not mine. I don't make the thingies grand. I just give my thingies to Him and let Him expand me according to His good grace.
Thus, my fears aren't any fancier than they used to be. Thus, as always, I just have to cast them at God and press forward in faith — even just with my writing, even just with my haphazard story about Michael the Traveler.
In most cases, then — when I've squeezed out the fear with prayer and supplication — I'm left with this tedious thing that looks like work.
One of my favorite lessons that I learned from one of my creative writing students is that — however much time you spend writing — you are that much closer to your specific objective: whether it be publishing a book, writing that love poem, telling your own story, etc.
She described it as "x minus one." Whatever your goal is, whatever your x is, when you write for one hour (or just one page or just one paragraph), you've subtracted 1 from how long it will take you to reach your goal.
So my lesson for you and me today: when the fear mounts up again (and it will; it always does), press forward. If you write crappy drivel now, that's crappy drivel you won't have to write later.
Just keep writing.
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