This week and last, I had writers block. Not just a block that inhibited me from forming something interesting, encouraging, creative or edifying, but a block that strayed me far from my computer. It strayed me so far that I found myself edgy as I stared at this silver box with lettered keys, as if it were a time bomb ticking so intensely that a mere glance would set it off. What was this intensely agonizing block I felt, and how could I possibly define it? How could I overcome this impending sense of doom, I thought, as the ink from my pen awkwardly rolled from the metal ball point tip to the perfectly lined spaces that lay white and blank before my eyes. Can I fill this blank space, I thought, and not only can I fill it but can I fill it with something that will have purpose or value? What if I attempt to write and nothing comes? How will I feel? Will I have failed at the one thing I feel called to do?
Pen hit paper and nothing seemed to flow. Broken concepts and unconnected thought now stared at me written in a messy jumble of unconnected ideas. The feeling of inferiority overtook me as I compared these messy thoughts to ones once written so eloquently as if I didn't believe they were even written by my hands. Will I measure up, I thought, not only to others gifts but to my own self? Will I be compared not only to others but to my own works of writing written once in a time when I felt slightly more free.
Freedom, I thought. Thats it! Why did I, in previous days, feel a sense of freedom to flow my words uninhibited without this heavy black curtain that now draped upon my soul, blocking me from truly expressing the things hidden behind its veil. Why, in that past time, did my words flow as if it were water in a stream, not worrying where it went, just following the path effortlessly laid before it. It was as if once my words were water, and now they've hit a dark and heavy dam so large it seems impossible to remove. What is this block, I thought, that makes me feel chained in like a prisoner unable to be fully revel in the joy I knew existed just beyond the rivers end?
Was it the distractions that surround my life that caused me to feel so inhibited and stagnant? Can I not experience my usual flow of joy and creativity because of things that I allow to absorb my time like a black hole sucking the very life from me, I thought? I sat and meditated on what truly did distract me from my purpose, my writing, the gift God gave me, realizing how many things truly did exist to cleverly distract me. The Tv sat to my left and the fridge to my right. The internet at my fingertips and the phone attached to my arm as if it had been sowed there with invisible thread. I sat and thought, how much there is to be distracted with, yet we think nothing of it as we mindlessly turn on TV and let it endlessly drain the hours from our life. I found long ago I find joy in my writing, yet I found myself gravitating to these things that bring me no life, no joy and no peace. I found myself gravitating to these things as my block continued to hinder me. If the distractions were marly a part of my block that acted as my crutch, what then was the root? Why had I once had a freedom to that which now seemed to no longer exist?
In a series of failed attempts, I relinquished control to the one and only God who knows the truth, and in that simple act of relinquishing my control, I was reminded of the power of His word. I was reminded that freedom only exists when we stop trying to control our lives. (Matthew 16:25) I was reminded that to try and control my own life is like harnessing the wind, and directing the flow of water. It takes much less strain to float on the path laid before us, and when we do, the freedom it brings is far greater than any words can explain. Freedom comes when we allow ourselves to float gently on that path that has already been laid out before us by our father in heaven. Freedom exists only when we allow Him to truly direct our path. As I walked on the path He laid before me, now uninhibited by the chains of my untrusting and controlling nature, the truth of his word became evident in my life. The weight of this desperate futile attempt to control my writing and my destiny that stemmed from my fear of trusting my life to God, was lifted from me like a dark curtain lifted to expose the bright light of freedom. Fear was my block and God was savior.
In that moment, I felt the warmth of his light, and the paralyzing pressure that once froze my fingertips like ice, were thawed by Gods warm and gentle words. He whispered to me sweetly that I would always measure up, that I would never be a failure in His eyes as long as I lived, and his delight in my choice to allow him to direct my path was more than He could express in words. I felt the presence of God once again, and my block was gone.
God hears us, and in our desperate moments and our joyful moments He comes (John 16:13). If we remember His promises written in the book of life, we will remember that he is like living water, endlessly flowing, constantly nourishing, filling, cleansing, and redeeming the spirit of his children. (John 7:38) His timing is like that of a river flowing on a path that has already been laid out since the dawn of time, and He promises to show us the way if we surrender to His current. (Jeremiah 29:11) When we allow ourselves to be filled with His love, from the overflow comes fruit. For me its in the form of words that are lovingly designed to edify and strengthen the body of Christ and to continue the flow of living water that is our God, our father in Heaven, and lover of my soul.
Ps. Thank you Dave for reminding me that water is such a wonderful way of picturing how God moves.
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