Tag: Faithful

With a splitting headache, I made myself get redressed. Black skirt, rouged sleeved blouse, and heels since I was unsure of the evening’s dress code. Better to be slightly over than under. Quick kisses on checks, and I was out the door. It had been awhile since I’d gone to an event solo.

“Event” is a bit of a stretch. This was a meeting. First one of its kind I’d attended. Not knowing what to expect was nervociting (nervous and exciting at the same time). Compounding matters was the location I’d never been to coupled with navigating rush hour traffic. The parking lot only held a smattering of vehicles, so my timing was spot on.

Thankfully, my name was on the list when I entered, making check in a breeze. I began taking a lap around the room, and a familiar face appeared. We exchanged pleasantries. I apologized for my lackluster demeanor—head still beating through my skull, causing everything to be more difficult than it would normally.

Continuing on, I see a mini boutique set up, which I of course found something to purchase knowing it would benefit the club. With a fresh water bottle in hand, I turned and faced the tables where people had already begun sitting. This is always the fun part: finding the right group to join. Strategically, I choose the one front and center where, it appeared, plenty of open seats were available. To my relief, this assessment was correct, and I quickly introduce myself as “new.”

As the room filled, my headache became more demanding. I search for my AirPods in an attempt to drown out some of the noise with calming music. No dice, left them at home. Why on Earth did I decide to come tonight? I take a deep breath and tell myself it’ll be ok. I can do this, it’s just a couple hours.

The meeting begins. Following the agenda provided on the table, things move relatively swiftly, then finally the guest speaker was introduced. It was apparent from her bio that she was firmly entrenched in this group. Energetic, she bounced around the various avenues she’d taken to arrive before us today. It was inspiring listening to the way each twist and turn led to another; however, at this point in the evening, it took great effort keeping up with all the words. My brain’s processing powers had started slowing when these words slapped me to attention:

“When nothing comes out…”

She was referring to her work as an artist, rather, when as an artist, her creative side suddenly stopped flowing. She couldn’t paint. Not that she was physically incapable of putting brushstrokes on a canvas, it was just blank. Nothing was coming out. Simulataneously, her boys were at the age where they required more of her attention, so she switched focus, concentrated energy on her family, and that was ok. She was exactly where she needed to be. Painting would wait, which was hard but ultimately ok as well.

For months now, I’d have a momentary flash of something to write, then POOF! Gone. Nothing was coming out. No matter how hard I grasped for the thread that tickled my brain, I was left empty handed. The proverbial pen had dried up. I often wondered…was that it God? Did I write all that you’d have me say? While some might have called it writer’s block, I knew in my heart this was something else.

Have you ever had a “dry season,” where it feels like you’ve somehow wandered into a desolate dessert? Where you feel lost, maybe abandoned, like someone just plucked you from one place and dumped you into another? Join the club. It sucks. All that had come easily for me was suddenly ripped away. I was left uncomfortable, insecure, staring at my own blank canvas.

When nothing comes out, or things don’t go the way you think it should, it feels like a wasteland. But even in the most barren spaces, where gaps and cracks of what “should be” are painfully more visible, a great cavern of sorts—solidarity still exists. Congratulations! You’ve officially joined a club where the membership is free but not binding. Others have gone before you. Some are right there with you. More will find their way in too. Just remember: you do not have to remain in the club.

You might not find this as revolutionary as I did in that moment but simply hearing an unspoken “I’ve been there too” was lifegiving water to my parched pen. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t written in months. That chasm was bridged when I recognized and received the outstretched hand before me.

It’s ok.

I was not alone.

This slump, season, or series of unfortunate events cannot derail us from any plans God has already set into motion.

Whatever cataclysmic “thing” that’s eating at you, don’t think for a moment that He isn’t right there, in the thick of it, watching over you. He is infinitely mightier than anything that might come against. Know that. The very moment you confessed Jesus is Lord, you were granted membership into a club of eternal grace. A place of goodness and powerful source of hope.

I had no idea why I made myself attend this meeting, especially feeling like I did, but I was so thankful I did. Sharing her confession of faith and obedience instead of rebellion was exactly what I needed to hear. Peace replaced shame. Passion resurrected. Hope restored.

After the meeting wrapped up, I waited patiently to thank her for her words. She said she had prayed that she’d touched someone with her testimony. Yes, indeed, Jane you did exactly that.

Friends, it’s in sharing our vulnerable moments, where we cry out, question, and sometime rebel, that He is closest.

Currently, I am finishing this while sitting in a dentist chair, mouth half numbed, awaiting my doctor’s return with a book on my lap. This opened a door of conversation and brought the opportunity to share my struggles. In my newfound confidence, I uttered the words “I’m a writer,” something I had not claimed in months. My “by chance” meeting with Jane, on a night I could have easily missed, allowed me to once again provide an avenue back to Him. In exposing my weakness, when nothing was coming out, God filled the cracks and granted access to once more be His vessel.

Your vulnerable admission that you don’t have it all together could be the very thing someone else needs to hear, at just the right time.

Join this club.

Be that person.

Let’s get REA/L together.