An excerpt from the new book, One Bloody Road: The Glorious Way of Discipleship:
“We need to know that we can trust His intentions for our future. Because He is God, and was before the earth was even formed, we can trust His ability to deliver compassion. Because He loved us when we weren’t deserving, we can trust His intentions to be compassionate. Because Jesus was the guarantee for both God’s ability and desire towards us, it is worth it to still love those who’ve hurt us in hopes they might discover the same incredible God.
Chapter 2: The (After) Birth
A REFLECTION OF GREATER THINGS
The truth is, the conditions for my failed relationship with writing were part of a much bigger flaw in my life. As far back as I can remember, I always held the sense that I needed to prove myself. I cannot really remember a relationship or a setting where I felt comfortable without having to prove my worth. Whether it was with classmates, family, or friends from other settings, I wrestled with insecurities that I thought would at some point disqualify the approval or love they’d shown me. Eventually I knew I wouldn’t be cool enough, smart enough, funny enough, or that I’d be just too fat, too sensitive, or too weak to be wanted.
Where these feelings came from isn’t so much the issue. All of us are dealt hands that lack. There just isn’t any set of human conditions that comes without pain and brokenness. In my life, a history of divorce and addiction, of using and abusing that came from our split home and the churches supposed to be part of the healing, wrote a certain cynicism into my emotional framework. I can say now, only after years of walking next to Jesus, that this fracture in my soul had to be mended before I could ever write the way I dreamed I would as a kid.
It’s not that I couldn’t write, or even write well, because of these internal struggles. It was just that at my core I desired to pen life and freedom. My heart wanted to make words that create hope and life for others. But you cannot honestly express things you haven’t first possessed. Until I myself experienced life and freedom from the insecurities that spoke to my worldview and my relationships, and as long as disappointment sucked the innocence and joy out of passions like writing, there would be no real purpose in even trying.
This post is part of a series titled, A Written Redemption: The Breaking of a Writer. (Links below)
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