What do you do?
I dislike this question, but it’s so common. What do you do: what takes up your days, what do you invest time in?
A less common question, however, is why – why do you do what you do?
I asked myself this question lately and I have to be honest: I didn’t like the answer. In fact, it was sobering. But it’s simply a part of my unmaking – and so, the walls continue to break down beautifully (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, read my last post).
Most of you will know that the last few years for me have been focused on the writing, crafting, publishing and promotion of my debut novel, The Gumdigger’s Wife. I've had the joy of people reading it and giving me positive feedback; I've also had the pleasure of promoting the novel along with some author friends of mine.
All this has been great. However, it has not come without cost. I’ve had to give much in terms of finance, emotional energy, even health.
My dream was to write a book. So I ran for it, full-tilt, burning myself out in the process. I’m not saying this to ask for pity or to make you feel sorry for me. I'm writing simply to be honest. To maybe suggest that we all need to think carefully about what we are doing and why we are doing it.
Somewhere along the way, I lost the joy of writing - and I needed to ask why. Did I lose the joy because of illness? Perhaps in part, but I felt there was more to it than that.
So, I had to dig deep. I had to ask some hard questions. What I discovered is that while creativity is a major part of who I am, my motivations for pursuing it have been wrong.
Story-telling is what I love. It’s part of me. It always has been. But when I chose to pursue it, I chose it with the perception that it needed to be a career – because it was the only thing I had been encouraged in and that I was good at (or so I believed). In my insecurity, I pursued something I was good at to ensure success, in a way. It also meant that my writing success or failure reflected on who I was as a person. If I failed, I was a failure. If I didn’t receive comments to build me up, I felt I hadn’t done right in the world’s eyes – and so, I was worth nothing.
What a twisted perception! The enemy has had a field day with my insecurity and fear, that’s for sure. Odds are, that’s happened to you too.
It took a lot of prayer, tears, and painful conversations, but I finally faced the truth. I’ve been writing to 'be right': to be okay, to be enough, in the eyes of the world. As I followed my chosen path I clung to my talent, doing it for God but ultimately for people's approval. What manifested itself was a frustration and anger as I began acting in response to the expectations of others of what I ‘should’ do because of that initial choice I made. I'm a writer, so of course I should be writing the next book, preparing for the next promotion - both good things, but I just had a yearning inside for something more.
I finally saw that I wasn't writing for the joy of it. It became a labour for love, not a labour of love. Such striving must grieve the Lord Jesus; His death was enough, wasn't it? He died so all striving could cease.
Through all this searching, I've needed to repent and reconsider what my motives are. I'm learning that if I continue to write, I must do so from a place secure in love – secure in the fact that no matter how I perform, no matter how many or how few people enjoy my work, regardless of how I feel about what I do, I am loved.
I belong to the Beloved, and He is Mine. I am the one Jesus loves. No matter what.
Such a simple truth, but a lot of digging and searching in the rubble was needed in order to find it. Perhaps truth is in you too, buried deep in your soul.
Last blog post, I talked about ‘the unmaking’; the point in a Christian’s life where everything is stripped down and only Jesus remains, meaning that only trust in Him can rebuild what's been broken. This is part of my unmaking - stripping back the weight of the title 'author' and resting with the gift of creativity and unconditional love of Christ.
How perhaps might you be unmade? Is there something inside you desperate to be born, but it's been hidden? Are you pursuing some goal but you are unsure of your motives? I encourage you to take it all to Jesus, to dig deep and explore even deeper his heart towards you. Those things in your heart, He's given them to you for a reason. So listen, seek, and take courage in the unmaking of your soul.