Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

It’s been almost a year and a half since I last wrote a blog post. I didn’t intentionally decide to step away, but I also didn’t make an effort to continue writing. Can I be honest? Sometimes I feel like a wannabe writer, an imposter, inadequate. I feel like I should be further along when it comes to the type of writer I wish to be. I don’t read as much as I used to or as much as I wish I did, and my fear is that this has stopped my writing from growing. If I dig deeper, I realize this extends to my life too. I’m not where I thought I would have been at this age and stage in my life, career, writing, and faith. Not that I don’t love and appreciate my life, because I do. I have so much to be grateful for. I’m not lacking in love. But in the last couple of years, I have given myself permission to grieve what isn’t and what may never be (this will probably be another blog post).

My middle sister, Stephanie, recently looked at my very full and colourful bookshelf and asked me a direct question. “Are you a reader?” For the first time in years, I said out loud what my heart has known to be true. “I’m not. I used to be. I want to be again.”

I still read, of course, but not every day, and not nearly as much as I desire to. And this lack of avid reading makes me miss an old version of me, a time when I was young and full of belief that the world was a wonderful place. This brutal truth has also made me believe that, as a result, I’m not as good of a writer as I once thought. Because a good writer is a constant reader, or at least someone who continues to excel and grow in writing does so, in large part, because they are constantly expanding their vocabulary by reading.

Although there is truth to that, I do believe God has given me a love and a gift with words, and part of the way to glorify Him is to continue to exercise that muscle. So, here I am, showing up on my blog with total honesty and vulnerability.

Today, I unexpectedly had the day off, and I decided to just sit at Jesus’ feet for an extended period. I stopped highlighting my Bible when I was in my early twenties because I just couldn’t stand how the highlighters would bleed through.

A couple of years ago, I saw Candace Cameron Bure on Instagram talking about these incredible highlighters that don’t bleed through that she had recently bought. The brand is Mr. Pen. I have since bought them multiple times as gifts for different friends, and I love them.

You can find Mr. Pen Highlighters on Amazon.ca. As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. If you’re looking for Bible highlighters, I personally love these and couldn’t recommend them more!

This afternoon, I highlighted the verse, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick; I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners” in Mark 2:17.

I thought this verse was so appropriate.

Here I am, fearing that people could think that I’m not a good writer. The truth is, we are constantly a work in progress. I may have some skill and talent, but who gave me that? God. And who should it be for anyway? For God.

So why don’t I accept my neediness and my sinfulness and allow myself to come to Jesus in those places, rather than trying to prove that I have it all together? Why don’t I do that even when it comes to my writing?

Jesus wasn’t saying that the “sick” needed to become healthy on their own before coming to Him. Jesus was making the point that those who recognize their need for Him are the ones who come to Him. In the context of Mark 2, Jesus was explaining why He was spending time with tax collectors and sinners: He came to call sinners.

And maybe that is what I need to remember when I’m tempted to hide because I don’t feel like enough.

God does some of His most beautiful work using messy, imperfect sinners. I can be absent in this space because I’m too scared of being vulnerable. I could also just give you a highlight reel in order to protect myself.

Or I can show up here with my broken pieces and be real about life, and in that, allow God to be the hero of my story.

He always has been anyway.