Writing for (in)courage is some of the most difficult writing I do. Y’all, it’s hard. The posts I write in this space take me a really long time. I weigh, I consider, I re-consider, I procrastinate. For a few months, I’ve been trying to figure out why.
It’s kind of like when someone comes to my house and likes the way I decorate and then says, Hey, can you come over to my house and help me with my living room?
And I’m all, Sure, I can go to your house, but all I can do is this, what you see right here.
And they’re all, Great! That’s what I want!
But then I get to their house and it smells different and they have really cute pillows and fantastic taste and candles burning on the coffee table. And I really like and respect this girl and I want her to like me. She says she wants my help, but I look around and think, Why? This place looks great! There is nothing I can possible add to it.
Sometimes writing for (in)courage feels like that, like standing in the living room of a really great friend who wants advice on paint colors. But her walls are already painted awesome. So I stand there, empty handed and awkward with no advice to offer.
I’m not saying these things so you’ll be all, You have so much to offer! Really, that’s not my point. It’s just that after two years, I thought it was time to be honest about the struggle. I write at my own space with freedom and sometimes even risk. But then I pop over here and all of a sudden, I’m so self-aware. Like there’s broccoli in my teeth.
I don’t smile if I think there’s broccoli in my teeth. Broccoli-teeth lead to self-conscious people. Maybe that’s why it’s hard to write at (in)courage. Because it’s one thing to be honest and dysfunctional at your own place. But it’s another thing to go out, to be trusted with another audience, and still be free enough and vulnerable enough and brave enough to open up in the midst of them.
Maybe you’re not a writer, but there is something else you do that you love. Maybe you are being asked to take that thing you do and share it outside your zone of comfort. I think the Lord is delighted when we delight ourselves in Him. And part of that is doing what is delightful to us.
Freely. Openly. And maybe even in public.
I’m not saying we are to the bone delightful people. On our own and by ourselves, we’re quite dreadful, actually.
But we aren’t on our own. And we aren’t by ourselves. In Christ, we now have hope, life, freedom, fullness.
Are you being asked to share that thing you do in a way that is uncomfortable to you? What does that look like for your personally? There is no wrong. Let’s hear it.
by emily freeman, Chatting at the Sky