Neglect would be easier

The rejection came two days after we received our first foster placement.

Swept up in a raging hurricane of emotions, I had been attempting to claw myself to safety in the eye of the storm, but my fingers were pried loose with the a few simple words in an email.

Unfortunately, your book was not right for S&S at this moment…

It was the exact reply I’d both expected and feared. I’d been right the whole time. And foolish for getting my hopes up.

Three months later, my feelings hadn’t changed.

With the kids back in school, I finally had time to write again. But after two weeks of interruptions, it was slow going. I stared at the computer screen, as if I could force words to write themselves.

Nothing would come.

It all felt a great struggle.

Why am I even doing this?

The same question I’ve wrestled with for over a decade resurfaced at the forefront of my mind.

Why pour so much time, effort, energy, and emotion into something that may never go outside the homemade desk in the corner of my laundry room?

Why fill my heart with hope when there is no promise of a successful future?

What’s the point of continually trying when it feels as if I’m spinning my wheels but going nowhere?

I flipped open my Bible to the book of 1 Timothy. One of my favorites, as it was written by a mentor to his mentee. A letter of wisdom, instruction, and encouragement, and I prayed that God would impart such things on me.

“Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers as example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of scripture, to exhortation, to teaching. Do not neglect the gift you have…practice these things, immerse yourself in them so that all may see your progress.”

The truth is, somedays neglect seems the best answer. To throw in the towel. Call it quits. Polish up my resume and go back to the life I knew.

Back to the life where I could easily find success, validation, and be free of the struggle. The struggle of persistence, of endurance, and instead flourish in the life of tangible, measurable, desirable outcomes.

But this is my gift. The passion God has, for some unknown reason, placed in my heart. I never asked for, dreamed of, or prayed to love words. I never expected I would, either.

And yet, I can’t escape them. My fingers ache for the keyboard and my brain is constantly overcrowded with thoughts and plots.

God has given you a gift, too.

A gift, not a burden. But it probably is something that equally delights and challenges you. Something that is pressing and stretching and would be far easier to put off.

Yet the gifts of God aren’t to be shelved away or exchanged in for simpler things. They are to be honed, practiced, and used for His glory.

Not solely for the benefit of the gifted, but for the greater good of all who are witnessing the faith refining journey God is taking us on.