Ripples

I wrote this a few weeks back, but just didn't post it then, kinda feels like i'm in that place again.

I seem to have lost my way for a while, especially with my writing. It seemed like no one was reading what I’ve been writing, like there’s been no reason for me to go on, after all, if no one is reading what I write, what’s the point, right?

So for a while, I haven’t written a thing, the few posts I had somehow manage to write in my first week on blogger are all I’ve been posting. And I’ve pretty much lost my way in trying to get people to visit the blog. Even though it has almost nothing on it, so far, I found myself being more concerned about people coming to read what I have written rather than actually writing.

Just a few days ago I felt so discouraged I was even asking God, “Lord, give me a sign, just any sign that someone out there is reading this stuff, give me a reason to go on…” I didn’t get any obvious answer then. I mentioned quitting to my girlfriend (yes, I have a girlfriend, most amazing lady this side of the equator…but then again, I am a guy in love, prone to writing drivel when it comes to her. ) and she wouldn’t hear of it.

So I posted another, sent a rough draft to a friend to look over, and his reply raised my spirits, in effect gave me a reason, however simple, to go on. You know what paper looks like when it has gone through a shredder? Yeah, that’s what my draft looked like when he was through with it. But it was what he added to it that really raised my spirits. 

“Incidentally I'm going to follow in your footsteps and write something for my church newsletter this week”

Okay, so maybe it isn’t exactly the answer to a prayer, but something about that simple statement made me really happy. It was like, sure, my writing wasn’t exactly reaching out to my intended audience…yet, but it was making a difference, however small, it was making a difference. And in a way it opened my eyes to one of the ways in which God works… I mean, maybe none of this stuff will ever be read by anyone else, maybe, but what if the articles he writes go on to touch hundreds of lives, go on to change people, to make the idea of salvation real for them. In that case, my work here will have been worth it, is worth it. Kinda made me realize that even the smallest things we do, however unimportant, always have a ripple effect, something small turns out to be something huge. Or maybe, something small, remains small, unimportant, but ends up being the last straw that breaks the camel’s back.

And it showed me that God truly does work in mysterious ways (tired of the clichés?)

It gave me the boost I needed, that faith I needed to just go on, to just do my part and trust God to do the rest, whatever way He sees fit. After all, what I am writing, I am not writing for me, I am writing for God; and I will keep doing that for as long as he requires it of me, whether or not I see the results, cuz I know somewhere, somehow, the ripples are spreading, guided by God…

Guidance

Do you believe that God guides us? That whether we know it or not, He lays out a path for us, and leads us along that path, always seeking what’s best for us, always seeking the path that will make us better, help us grow, bring us or someone close to us closer to Him? I do, coz I have been guided, and I know that that path we must tread, that journey we must take…it’s never easy, but it’s always worth it…

Have you ever prayed desperately for something? Poured out your heart to God in the almost certain hope that this one prayer He will simply have to answer, coz you have no idea how to go on without that one thing? I have; I remember praying desperately that my girlfriend would be healed at a miracle crusade we attended together; I remember praying that she wouldn’t have to go through the indignity, the pain, the discomfort of going through surgery to sort out a what seemed like a really simple problem to me. I have never liked hospitals, never liked the idea of even being in one so the idea of her having to be admitted, even for just a couple of days, to me was unbearable.

I remember hoping afterward that when she went for a checkup, they would find the problem cleared; remember how much hope I invested in that one simple prayer. My prayer wasn’t answered. At least, not the way I hoped. For a while I did not understand why that had happened, did not want to accept that she would have to go through with the surgery. For a while, it hurt, it really hurt.

The day of the surgery came. I was at the hospital even before she was, still really hating the idea that she would have to go through that. For the next two days I literally camped out at the hospital, always within sight of her, reluctant to even go out to get something for myself to eat, always wondering why she had to go through that, why when I had prayed as well as I knew how, when I had believed as well as I could that she would be healed.

My extended family has never been really close, it has always just been me and my Mum (a really amazing Lady too, btw), she raised me, made me the person I am today, and I have always been a loner, more comfortable on my own than in a group, never the one to get up and reach out. Family meant almost nothing to me, my Mum is more my friend than anything, and I am really thankful for that, but I never knew how important family was, I never knew how to trust another person completely, knowing that they wanted only the best for me…and in a way I never really knew how to trust God, how to lean on Him and just trust that He was in control and everything, everything, would be fine…

…Until those two days I spent in that hospital. I waited and watched, waited and watched. Watched her siblings come and go, saw how much they meant to her and her to them, saw how much they cared, saw how they supported each other, I saw how a family was meant to work, saw the love, the trust that they shared. And it opened up something within me. In those two days, I learnt the value of family, better than any books could teach.

My desperate prayer was not answered, the miracle I was hoping for, I did not get, but I got better, I got so much better. She was healed, and in a way, so was I. I learnt to trust, learnt to let go completely, to give in completely when I know that someone wants the best for me, just like God always wants the best for me. And in a way, I learnt to trust God even more, I learnt to give myself to Him in a way that I only thought was fantasy before. And yes, I have grown in the Lord. For that I am grateful.

Gifts

I have the gift of writing; I think I’ve always known that to some extent, at least, since I was about 10. And I’ve always wanted to write, not just be writer, but to actually write. I enjoy fantasy, reading it, watching it, and occasionally just drifting off into worlds of my own creationl, so naturally, that’s where my writing led me; to explore new worlds that I created, that only I could fully know. Once I actually thought of just living off writing, sure, I may not be the best writer out there, but untutored, untaught, I found I could write just as well as several of the big names out there, sometimes even better, I think; maybe that’s just my pride…

I remember when I was twelve I started to throw a few ideas onto paper. I was impressed with what I came up with and a year later, so was my teacher. A man who seemed to make it his personal goal to build the writing skills of his students, we were three then, three exceptional students who always competed to see who would get full marks. We all usually did. I remember writing out one book, all 24 chapters of it, and putting down the rough plan for the twelve that would follow it.

And I remember praying that God would help me to realize my dream of becoming a writer, that He would help me develop my writing to the point that I could actually successfully write and market at least that one series of books; most of the story is still locked up in my head, only part of it has actually made it onto paper.

But while I prayed that God would help me realize my dream, I never considered what His plans were for my life, never considered that this precious gift (make no mistake, writing is hard) could have been given to me for His glory and not for my own. I remember when I realized that, when I realized that I was asking God to help me write for my sake, not for His.

No, I wasn’t ashamed; I saw no reason to be. I actually went on to ask that He at least let me write that one series, that one story, get it done with and then I would do whatever He asked me to do, then I would do His will, but only after He had done mine; after all, I had the gift, I could write and I could always choose what to write. It never occurred to me then that what I was actually saying was, “give me this much for myself, just this much, and I will give the rest to You…”

Then I stopped writing. It wasn’t intentional, wasn’t conscious, it just happened. Yes, for a while I might have been angry, but more than that I was frustrated. I had so much to write, so much I wanted to tell whoever could read, but I just could not get it out of my head. Believe me, I tried.

And then slowly, reluctantly, came acceptance. God has asked for nothing less than my all, nothing less than everything I am. Nothing less. He created me, everything He has blessed me with has been for a reason, has been for His glory, taking away even one tiny bit for myself, for my glory would be going against His will, His perfect will for my life.

Maybe someday I will get that story out of my head, maybe someday people will read it across the globe, yes, I still hope for that. But if that ever does happen, I pray that it will be first for God’s glory and much more than my own.