I spend a lot of prayer time asking what to do with my life. It’s ironic, because I kind of know the answer. But I don’t like the answer. I’m looking for another way out, or something easier, or something grander. It’s like Naaman’s anger when Elisa says to wash in the Jordan River seven times to cure his leprosy. Who cares about the Jordan River? What’s that going to do for leprosy?
I prayed my usual, “Please grant me guidance,” then crossed myself and stood up. As soon as I turned, I felt/heard/knew that little voice speak—write.
Audibly, I groaned. “What am I supposed to write?”
I was always composing stories as a kid. I even “published” a book. I wrote it, printed it off our dot matrix printer, and bound it into a three-ring binder. I even drew artwork for the front cover and spine, and emblazoned the back cover with a made-up publisher’s logo. (Clearly, I was destined for Book Production.) Like most teenagers, I had notebooks filled with poetry no one was allowed to read. In college, I majored in Creative Writing, because I couldn’t think of anything else I would want to do. I eventually realized I needed a steady paycheck and changed gears slightly, but the writing never left me.
A lot of people have stopped asking when I’ll write a book. It’s a relief, but also a little sad. Sometimes I think this isn’t my calling, because it’s a struggle to come up with anything. It’s the struggle of any creative—I have this talent, so what do I do with it? But am I burying my talents instead? I hate writing. I hate the whole process, from coming up with an idea to finding the right words to fill it. But when I sit back and re-read something, after several rounds of edits, I think… huh, I’m pretty good at this.
When I worked for a Christian publisher, I thought I could write devotionals. I was newly Catholic, well-read, and thought devos (industry lingo) would be easy. As usual, I talked myself out of it via a mental barrage of questions: Who’s the audience? Do we need yet another generic Christian devotional? Do Catholics even use devotionals? Can we tie it into our Jewish history somehow? Valid questions, and some good ideas, but it tired out my brain and I scrapped the idea.
Then I thought of doing quick, digital, week-long devotionals on my website. I can use this space for something besides talking about myself! I can advertise in church bulletins! Again, I talked myself out of it.
Creatives have a bad habit of self-depreciation. Other people can write something better, or have already done it, or no one will care. All of that could be true. But no one has my specific story. I’m still searching for good Baptist-to-Catholic stories, seeking someone whose journey resembles my own. I know they’re out there, but no one’s writing books about it. Another rejected idea: publish my paper journal. But that’s too personal. People will be offended!
Hasn’t Jesus taught me anything? If you’re not offending anyone, you’re not doing it right. If you’re making everyone happy, you’re not being honest with yourself or with God.
I continue to come back to that small voice: write. I complain that I have nothing to write, but look at all these ideas I’ve had. I’ve been blatantly ignoring it, and it’s embarrassing at this point. God had to really hit me over the head with it. I’d stopped in my steps, closed my eyes, and sighed in defeat. I’m not happy about it. Also… maybe I am, a little.
