When Writers Don’t Write

There’s a certain anguish that ensnares the writers soul when a writer doesn’t write. Maybe you think that I’m being a little over dramatic; but the truth is, unless writers write, they will live in a world of mental and emotional turmoil…or maybe this is just me, maybe other writers don’t feel this way. But I can’t believe that I’m the only one.

My mind is in constant motion. I hear/see/think of something inspiring, and if I don’t write it down right then, it’ll probably get lost in the disorganized chaos of my brain. My creative mind is a blessing and a curse. My thoughts often center on what I can create, what kind of art can I write, that will glorify God and show others the greatness of who He is?

In the book Pursuing Christ, Creating Art, which is one of my favorite books, Gary Molander talks about how artists feel things on a deeper level than non-artists. There are higher highs and lower lows. Life is lived through a series of Heaven and hell experiences. There is seldom a middle ground when it comes to the emotions of an artists. Why, you ask? This is because the greatest, most inspiring art, in whatever form it may come in, is created from the depths of pain or the heights of joy. In between feelings do not create great art.

But this way of feeling things can get incredibly exhausting. The higher highs are great, those moments are priceless. Those are the moments I hold on to in the lower lows. The lows are extreme, they are painful, and they often pull me away from my writing. But when I slip away from writing, my life turns chaotic. Life start to slip into a state if confusion and anger; and even though I know the answer is, sit down and write, I often don’t want to fight the battle of getting the words out of my head.

You see, for me, and I’m sure many other writers (or any kind of artist), when creative thoughts and ideas come into our minds, we want to get them out. We want to get them into a tangible form and create art with them. But when we ignore the thoughts, when we set aside the ideas…our brains become clouded with our own creativity and then getting it out isn’t fun anymore, it’s hard and sometimes painful.

It’s not always about a great piece of art, sometimes I just need to write so that I can process the chaos of the world around me. Writing my thoughts, journaling, helps me to understand my feelings and circumstances more clearly and look at things with a less emotionally irrational perspective. Writing is not just about creating art, but it’s also about giving in to one of the deepest needs of my heart.

I think, this is why many writers on TV/movies/books are portrayed as insane…it’s what I like to call, crazy writers brain. It’s when too much is happening in my head at one time, I am, in a way, over stimulated. And until I get the thoughts out, until my words go from my head to my hands, I find it hard to process the world around me.

So to all the writers out there, keep writing…even when it hurts. If God gave you the gift of writing, don’t waste it, you never know who you may be inspiring. Let your emotions, joyous or depressed, lead you to create great art!

Weekly Writing Challenge: Life Change in a Split-Second

The moment he told me he had always loved me, my life changed forever. After that moment, I could never go back to life as it was before.

As a kid, I loved standing on the shore of the ocean. The unknown out in front of me; a beautiful, open expanse of water that could take my life easier than I knew, or cared, at the time. This unknown caused my stomach to turn and my heart to flip, but I always dove in head first. I was ready for the adventure that the crashing waves would provide for me, or so I always thought. The adventure, on more than one occasion, had proven to be more than I could handle though as massive wave crashed against my small frame. Several times, I fought against the waves, always thinking I was battling for my life. One wrong move, one slip of the hand, one missed kick of the foot, and the wave would win. But this vie for life, this rush of adrenaline, this risky chance, is something I enjoyed taking, as summer after summer I ran into the water, at the mercy of the waves. Little did I know this would become a metaphor for my life.

Let me explain. My life has brought me through a series of waves that I have continuously battled against. Waves of shame, anger, depression, guilt, frustration (you get the picture) were constantly telling me I was not good enough, that I would never amount to anything, that no one loved me. And I battled these waves for as long as I can remember. I thought if I was stronger, if I could fight harder, if I could find the right “weapon” to fight with, I could win. But I spent most of my life struggling to keep my head above water. The waves always seemed to be one step ahead of me and I was slowly drowning.

I was almost 24 the first time I understood that my dad loved me; and once I knew that, I was done fighting. I gave up and let the wave of love take over me. I succumbed to honesty, truth, and faith. This time though, the wave was not trying to pull me under. Instead, it washed me onto the shore and landed me on my feet.

You see, not knowing my dad for 23 years of my life had taken its toll on me. I was torn, battered, bruised, and broken. Just a few weeks before my 24^th birthday I talked to my dad and he shared some of his life with me. But the moment he spoke the words, “I have always loved you,” I felt secure. It was that moment, that exact second, that my life changed forever. Knowing how my dad felt about me was freeing and I exposed my hidden heart to him. I confided in him things I had never told another person. All my life, this is all I had ever needed – to know that my daddy loved me.

Sharing my repressed and forgotten hurts with my dad spurred me onto an emotional journey of healing. That is where I found Celebrate Recovery. Through the CR program I found healing, love, acceptance, peace, joy, and belonging. I discovered who I am – I am not my past, I am not what I have done. I am a loved and cherished child of God and NOTHING can take that away from me.

 

This post is written in rsponse to the Weekly Writing Challenge.  Check out the link to see more about it or to join in.

The Beauty of the Cross

Is there anything in this life more beautiful than the Cross? I mean if you really focus in on what the Cross means, it is breathtaking! The Cross means freedom, pure freedom, that cannot be found anywhere else in this world. How do I know that: I’ve looked! Even when I didn’t know it, I was in bondage to my shame and my sin, but when I came to the Cross, I learned what freedom was. I learned what forgiveness was. I learned what love was. I learned what grace was. But I also learned that I don’t deserve any of it.

Romans 5:8 – But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.

John 14:6 – Jesus told him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one can come to the Father except through me.”

Running
Running without a destination
She was running from despair
If she chose to leave it all behind her
She could move on without a care
She ran to things that destroyed her
But didn’t know it at the time
The things that she thought loved her
Were slowly taking her life

The race that she was running
Landed her in a pit
And this is where it hit her
On her own, she couldn’t quit

He was running from his demons
Too afraid to face the shame
It was easy to pretend, “I’m fine,”
As long as he hid the pain
So he just faked a smile
Pretended he was alright
All the time he didn’t realize
This was a useless fight

The race that he was running
He thought he’d made it to the top
And that is where it hit him
On his own, he couldn’t stop

You see, we’re all powerless
To control the hurt in our lives
We can hide and we can mask it
But we may not survive
If you want to win the race
You must give up the fight
There is only one Man
Who’s ever gotten it right
He died on a cross
In obedience to the Father
He shed His own blood
For His sisters and brothers
Can you picture it now
God’s Only Son on the cross
Nails in His hands
Paying our cost
Don’t take it lightly
What He has done for your soul
He loves you, He forgives you
Just give God control
He will not condemn you
That’s already been done
He longs to embrace you
His daughters and sons
So run into His arms
They are spread open wide
Waiting for you to give up
So He can take over the fight

I am an Artist

What is an artist? What is art for that matter? I guess I never considered myself to be an artist because whenever I think of art, I think of paint and a canvas. But the definition of art doesn’t end with painters. Webster’s dictionary defines art as the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects. So within that definition, I am an artist and the words I write are art.

I recently read Pursing Christ, Creating Art by Gary Molander; and it was quite possibly one the most challenging but insightful and encouraging books I’ve ever read. This book described who I am in ways that I never realized.

I am an artist.
I experience higher highs than non-artists. I throw parties when an ingrown toenail experiences healing.
I experience lower lows than non-artists. I can lie helpless in the fetal position when I experience an ingrown toenail.
I live in heaven or hell. There is no Hades.
I am deeply introspective and overly self-critical.
I want you tell me the truth about my art.
I wish you wouldn’t tell me the truth about my art.
I live one-step on the other side of the line, and stick my big toe over with too much regularity.
I need authority, and I struggle with authority. And I don’t really think I need authority.
I have a much better way, and I have no idea what that is.
I am naturally unorganized, but I’ve forced myself to become more organized. I’ve done this in the name of self-preservation.
I love Jesus with all my heart and all my soul.
I honestly believe that beautiful art can change the world.
I can’t wait to create some new thing.

The book begins with this description of an artist. It’s as if the author stepped into my head and pulled out all of my unrealized characteristics. Weird.

I experience higher highs and lower lows than non-artists. This one sentence makes so much sense of so much of my life that didn’t make sense before. For most of my life, I’ve felt as if my emotions were excessive, as if I got sadder about things and happier about things that “normal” people would. This fact has often frustrated me and made me feel as if I didn’t belong. As I came to have a relationship with Christ, I have accepted this “quirk” about myself and that I am probably just a bit more emotional than many people. I have come to be okay with that. But now, it seems to run much, MUCH, deeper than that.

Because I have higher highs and lower lows than non-artists, I live in either Heaven or hell experiences. There is very little, if any, in between when it comes to my emotional state. I’m an all or none kind of person.

As an artist, I will always react to difficult situations with more grief and sadness than most people. But the opposite is true, too. The smallest success or idea that allows me even the dimmest glimmer of hope will always cause me extreme joy. And I need to stop crucifying myself because of this. I need to stop trying to hide it…Make no mistake about it. The best art is borne in the joy of heaven, or the pain of hell. God-fearing artists will experience both, and God will beautifully interact with them in both places…So while artists need to stop living and dying based on every whim of our emotions, we also need to come to grips with the fact that, for many of our tribe, we will always exhibit high highs, and low lows. And when we place our ordinary lives on the daily altar as living sacrifices, we need to make sure and place this tendency on the altar as well, for God to mold and transform as He sees fit.

I can’t create art from an “in between” emotional state – it just doesn’t work. “In between” art isn’t moving, it doesn’t change lives, it doesn’t draw out emotion. But because I have so much emotion, positive or negative, running through me at any given time – I NEED to create art. God gave me the gift of being able to write and when I don’t write, which is the only way for me to REALLY get my thoughts and feelings out of my head, I notice that I begin to get distant from God. In other words: I don’t need to create art for God. He doesn’t need it. I need to create art in response to God.

I create art in response to what God has done for me.

He did something first, and we are now able to go and do something that looks and smells a lot like what He’s already given to us. We create art because He first created art. And the art He first created is you. It’s me. It’s anyone who has been made alive with Christ.

I am a work of art who is creating art. I need to stop procrastinating. God created me, He knows how I function. He knows that I have natural bent towards writing, He put it there. So when I get distant from writing, I get distant from God. I write many of my prayers simply because speaking them doesn’t allow me to get out my feelings and thoughts the way writing does. But oftentimes, I put off writing because I afraid that I will fail. I’m afraid that whatever makes it to the paper won’t meet my own expectations. Which it rarely does; I have high expectations for my own work. The reason why I procrastinate and the avoid sharing my art with other people: fear and pride. And God is working on crucifying those things in me. I’ve come to a place in my life where I don’t have to listen to the voices that say my art is no good and that as a result, I am no good. I don’t have to be afraid of how my art will be received. God already has a plan for my life and for my art and He knows who needs to see, read, or hear it and who will be moved by. God is in charge of that.

So in response to what God has done for me, I create. I write. I share emotion. I pour a part of my very soul into my writing and I am honored that God would give me this gift that can make even the slightest difference within His Kingdom. If God says that my art is good enough, who am I to disagree? If God gave me the artistic bent that I have, who am I to tell Him that I don’t need to use it?