I wasn’t going to write tonight.
Ya’ll, I had just hunkered down for Downton Abbey and I was quite happy about it. But then I got the “ding” on my phone alerting me to a Facebook message. It was a dear friend from Texas days gone by. She went on about how a foster mama friend has gleaned encouragement from what I write. Sweet lady was just so encouraging and gave me strict instructions to “keep writing.”
But in light of Anna and Mr. Bates and Mary and that beautiful music that sets it all up in the beginning, I thought How nice. I’ll write tomorrow. Tonight I’m getting lost in a castle and other people’s (fictional) lives.
Then Nathan informed me that it would me 40 minutes before we could watch Downton.
This may be the fastest post yet.
It’s strange this whole writing for the world to see thing. (As if the whole world sees it.) It’s taken me two years to get to the place where I can write without obsessing over the placement of every word. And Christ has done some serious work in my spirit to teach me how to offer my thoughts without worrying how they go over.
I happen to know my high school English teacher reads this blog. THE HORROR. And a woman who knows more theology than the average seminary graduate. GAH! Every time I mention scripture I wonder if I’ve said something heretical! There have been few things in life that caused me to deal more with my insecurities than writing has.
People are so kind to comment at church or in passing at the store. Mostly I just want to say, “PLEASE O PLEASE don’t mention the blog.” I get embarrassed and usually say something incredibly clever and gracious like, “Um. Thanks,” while my eyes dart around, and my brain frantically searches for a new topic.
I always wonder if they are simply trying to be encouraging. I’ve said untrue things while trying to be encouraging. Oh dear. Are they doing the same to me?
Clearly I need therapy of a different sort.
I can’t grasp why God would use what I write. It’s just my thoughts flowing through my fingers. But he used a donkey to speak some truth in the Old Testament. So maybe it’s not so farfetched? Either way, I’m learning it’s not for me to figure out. It’s for me to offer.
You have something, too, ya know. Something to offer. I have been the grateful receiver so many times. A home opened with love for a meal or a cup of coffee. A listening ear. A song. An insight into scripture. A kind word that saved me in an awkward situation. A donut at the door on the worst day ever. A scripture written and given on a scrap paper.
An admonition to keep up the writing.
Our job isn’t to worry about how others receive our gift . Our job isn’t to compare it with another’s. Our job isn’t to decide if our gift is worthy of giving. And our job isn’t to fret over whether it was impactful.
Our job is to simply offer the gift.
And leave the rest to the Master Giver.
I pray you humbly offer your gift to others, knowing it was given less for you and more for them. Pray that I do too.