One of the most common questions writers ask is, “What if?”
These two words serve as a springboard for many an epic tale. They pose a question that prompts us to consider a topic or issue from a different angle. They invite us to explore new possibilities and dig deep to discover the Truth.
But those two words can also be our biggest stumbling block.
“What if I write the wrong thing?”
“What if I share something that offends someone?”
“What if no one ever reads what I write?”
“What if. . . What if. . . What if?”
Allow the questioning spiral to go on long enough and it’s enough to drive even the sanest person in the world to the brink.
Facing the demon in the dark
1 John 2:14 NIV
I write to you, dear children, because you know the Father. I write to you, fathers, because you know him who is from the beginning. I write to you, young men, because you are strong, and the word of God lives in you, and you have overcome the evil one.
Nobody likes the feelings that go along with anxiety. They’re uncomfortable, they’re brutal, and they often leave us feeling isolated and alone.
But what if the hard things you’re facing in this moment could be used to bring hope and healing to someone who is struggling with those feelings just as much—or more than—you?
What if, by talking about the impossible things in your life, you help someone discover that living their life is possible. I’ve been so encouraged by author friends like Chris Morris who publicly share about their struggles and who are shining a light on a subject that the church too often shoves deep into the back closet.
Although I don’t talk about it much, I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression off and on since early childhood. And the one thing I’ve discovered in those tear-soaked nights is that, more often than not, it’s questions about who I am, what my purpose is, and whether or not I could ever be accepted for who I am (beyond what I show the world) that keep me spiraling the most.
That’s why I often return to the book of 1 John. One of the things I love most about it is that John paints such an intimate picture of our true identity. He gently reminds us of who we are in Christ, what to watch out for as followers of Christ, and how to avoid falling back into old behaviors and patterns. I’ve come to discover that without that clear understanding it’s impossible to write openly, honestly, and vulnerably.
And without open, honest, vulnerability it’s impossible to connect with our readers.
Stand firm in your true identity
Yes, you are writer. But writing is what you do. It’s not who you are. Writing may be your gift, but writing is not your identity.
Your identity is found in Christ alone. It’s when we come to recognize that truth that we are freed to use our gift to its fullest ability.
Be aware: You have an enemy who knows that truth all too well. He will use every means to trip you up, to cause you to question your identity and your gifting, and to prevent you from doing the work you were created for—all while keeping you from touching the lives God is sending you to.
You, dear child of God, know and are known by the One who is from the beginning. And though you may not always feel that way, you are strong because your strength comes from the One who defeated death itself. Like John, I write to you today to remind you that the Word of God living in you desires to be spoken through you.
And when you speak of God’s light and spread it into the darkness, you loosen the grip the evil one has on the souls crying in the night. Your words may only ever be seen by one, but it could be that one person who needs to see your words of hope the most.
Stand firm in your identity and in your calling, dear one. Write. Even when you doubt yourself. Write.
