I’m a writer, but sometimes there are no words. Times when I sit here in the morning and wonder what God wants me to say. Because the words aren’t mine. Without Him, there are no words.
Writing sessions can be this way. Painful. Meaningless dribble onto the page. Write and delete. No gain. I sometimes wonder how some authors release book after book continuously. Theoretically I could produce three books per year. The numbers show the possibility. If I stick to writing at least 5 days a week, 1,000 words per day, a book could be written every 13 weeks. My plan, not God’s. My gift from God.
Writing, and life in general, is not in my control. If I try to take God’s place, I fail. And so prayer is vital. I seek His guidance. I ask for Him to give me the words which will bring Him glory, not me. I pray I get out of the way so I don’t become a stumbling block.
Somehow God provides the words. My fingers move on the keyboard, but the words are not mine. I praise Him for everything. For breath, for life, for the gift of each day, and for words.
When there are no words, He provides. I am a writer.