“to have a particular opinion, belief, or idea about someone or something.”

…

think

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When it came to my pursuit of writing, my journey started like most journeys, without prediction or planning, and with limited perspective or expectation.

Most expeditions are lovely that way. We overlook small details, opportunities for growth, and the changing wind patterns of life until we find ourselves amid something troubling and traumatic or tremendous and terrific. Wonderfully, we don’t get to choose our journeys.

They often choose us.

During my literary voyage, I noticed a few things rather quickly, but one item stood out amongst all the others: I’m not an expert. I’m not an authority on one thing, not on marriage, parenthood, Van Gogh, friendship, love, on doing the right thing, the Bible, or anything.

Nothing!

The only thing I’m an oracle on is me. Except for God, no one knows me better than me. And so, whatever topics I write about are simply from my perspective.

In the beginning, a little over 12 years ago, my thoughts all had the same theme. They were constant and consistent. With each passing day, the same question ran around in my head like a dog chasing a rabbit: What are God’s plan and purpose for my life?

I knew then, as I know now, that God has a perfect plan for each of us; I just didn’t have a clue what His path was for me. Another concern was, will I follow it once revealed? The latter point was important because up to this point, my experiences on a personal level were full of failure and poor decisions. Life for me was miserable, untenable, and unsustainable.

I believed God was the answer to my problems, but I could not choose Him over my pain. It sounds crazy, but it’s accurate. Often, we have to become sick and tired of being sick and tired before real change can take root in our lives.

I’m living proof of this truth.

In March of 2010, I sought God’s direction and prayed the same prayer for three straight days: “What do you want me to do, God?” And as I sat meditating, anticipating, waiting, longing for God to speak to my heart, on the third day, He did.

He said to write.

I know many of you are reading this find it difficult to believe God would actually tell anyone to write or do anything for that matter. And I’m sure many don’t think He spoke to me. I get it. And as many of you ponder the absurdity of my words, I’m without little doubt that more than a few eyes are rolling.

As I said, I get it.

But this is more than my story; it’s the truth. Over and over, I would hear in my silence the word, write. There was no audible voice per se; it was just a continual wave of urges that wouldn’t allow me to separate myself from the constant thought or internal nudging to write.

“God, what do you want me to write?” I said impatiently. “I can’t write a novel or book. I have no idea where to even begin. “Just write,” He said. “Just write.”

So, I did, and still do.

I write.

And like my writing, I’m a work in progress.

“For as he thinks in his heart, so is he.”

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– Proverbs 23:7 (NIV)