I got confirmation of the feeling I’ve been having lately that God really wants me to be working on my writing in the form of an email from a friend about a writing contest he thinks I should enter. It might not seem like much, but to me, it’s a sign. It’s God saying, if you’re not going to listen to me when I speak to your heart, I will speak to those of your friends.
And I’m listening. I heard, God. I did. And I cleared my desk. I set up, with my ginger ale by my hand and my chair adjusted to just the right height. And I am sitting here, rocking in my chair, checking Facebook and Twitter, checking emails, contemplating going up to wash my face, going through my playlists. Doing everything I can to avoid, God.
And when I flip windows, to my open blank Word document, I feel a pressure in my chest, squeezing tears up to my throat, clamping hands of fear over my heart. My breath stutters, and my hands tremble, and I lower my forehead to the keyboard, eyes screwed shut. My mind searches for the words to pray to You, Lord, the words to ask You to take this fear from me, to give me the first nudge into the story, so that I don’t have to take that step, that leap.
And I know that You won’t take that leap for me, because You need me to take it myself. I need to have faith that You will help me. I need to have faith in my faith. And it is something I’ve been struggling with, God, and I see Your hand in the things occurring around me.
The faith of a child is a phrase I’ve been seeing bantered around on the internet lately. As a child, I used to play a game with my peers at school. You stood with your back to your partner, and closed your eyes, and let yourself fall back. The first three seconds were a rush of terror, of whooshing air and screeching laughter and blackness, until the fall came to an end with your friend’s hands catching you under the arms, sturdy and solid, only letting you fall so far as you needed to in order for them to catch you.
I need to let myself fall back into Your arms, Lord.