(NOTE: I'm a little embarrassed to say that I just noticed the title I chose for this post is the same title as Donna Clarke Goodrich's new book. She was one of the authors at the conference. I guess a lot really stuck with me from that conference. My humble apologies to Donna.)
To write is to reveal oneself to the world. But to write as a Christian is to reveal Christ to the world.
My words must be His Word. My thoughts intertwined with His. So far above mine.
This longing to write drew me on an unexpected journey. To an arena of virtual expression and technicality beyond my savvy.
Then came the invitation. A Christian Writers' Conference only a drive away. Such opportunities I had rejected for years like the initial manuscripts I had sent out. Would this one be different? Why did I feel hope?
The journalistic who, what, where, when, and how was known--just the why remained. Those trepid footsteps that said the why was just imagined. There was no real call. The writing was just a filler for the past few months. Exhaustion pounded out a cadence for the need to rest. Just retreat. I should be home with our injured dog, the impostor heart chided.
But the journey was paid for. So these anxious feet made the trip to find only 25 attending. The feet stopped dead at the door. The mouth agape. Where were the crowds I was used to? That solo time I made a conference.
I reluctantly picked up the Sharpie to pen my name on tag. How could this be valuable? My feet wanted to march backward. I knew the speaker's name, though. A recognized Christian author.
"Just move," I told my feet. They carried me to a vacant seat. Someone was speaking. Words of a prayer were lifted up. Something stirred. I knew I was in the right place.
Two days of workshops. Nonfiction writing. Marketing. Writing devotionals. How to's of interviewing. Consults with authors. Meeting other writers. Book Tables covered in knowledge. Copyright laws. Publishing. Relationships formed. Networks exchanged. Your manuscript reviewed--here.
The feet tapped a satisfied beat. A dance of fulfillment. A longing renewed. A hope-found purpose. The path of possibility.
Wrap-up and prayer. So much covered. So much to learn. So much to grow.
For apart from Him we can do nothing. We wither. We fear. We have only self. We die. His words never printed.
"I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing." John 15:5&6 NIV
What have you discovered that you can do only with Jesus?
Linking up with imperfect proseFrom My Heart to Yours,
Labels: Faith. Writing, imperfect prose