Forgive me now, this post is going to be a bit vague and cryptic - but it won't stay that way.
I am working on a non-fiction book that has been on my heart for years. YEARS. Since 2013 or 2014. I remember when the Lord gave me the idea, I remember Him whispering it to me, and I remember thinking... me?
I'm such a mess, God.
I don't know enough, God.
My writing isn't flowery enough for this, God.
What if I misspeak, God?
What if I do it wrong, God?
But the idea was there and I held it in my heart. This little idea that had been given to me, but I kept it under wraps. Like a lamp on a nightstand with a bowl over it.
I would bump the bowl, and see the glimmer of light, and remember the idea, and think, "Not yet, God. I'm not enough, yet."
I thought for a while that He probably rolled His eyes at me. But I'm convinced that He smiled and held out His hand, His pen, His invitation. His arm never growing tired as He waited for me to reach out and take it.
It's not done yet, but I started. I humbly ask you to pray me through finishing, friend. Because I've got my work cut out for me.
I'm still not enough.
I'm still such a mess.
I'm still not flowery.
I might mess up.
I will mess up.
But I give the progress and the mistakes to Him. And with my pen poised, my heart ready, I am saying, "Here I am, Father. Speak through me. Write through me."