Sometimes people ask where I get ideas for this column. Whether they really want to know, or are instead subtly questioning my sanity, I answer: “Everywhere,” because that’s the truth.
I can’t explain why random things brush across my consciousness, stick like Velcro, and then remind me of spiritual principles, but they do.
And because they do, I usually, thankfully, have plenty of things to write about.
Except for right now.
Right now, I’m facing an empty computer screen with an empty head – not a good combination for a writer. I have a deadline looming and I can’t seem to put three coherent thoughts together. (I think I managed two yesterday, but I’m not sure.)
I’m sitting here under the journalistic gun with a whoppin’ bad case of brain haze. I had surgery recently for a torn something-or-other in my hip, and I’m desperately trying to gather my brain cells back from wherever brain cells go when the anesthesia fog rolls in.
The good news is that the surgeon thinks he fixed that something-or-other in my hip and I’ll now get some relief from the tormenting pain it’s caused me for several years. I’m rejoicing with great joy about that.
I spun the surgical wheel ’o fortune and am praying it will land on “JACKPOT” this time.
But before I can truly celebrate, I have to get this column written. And that’s a problem. The deadline is nigh upon me and my brain feels like it’s enclosed in plastic wrap.
However, I suspect – no, I KNOW – I’ll learn something valuable through this. You, the readers, may have to endure a bit of foggy rambling, but in the end, here’s the lesson I expect to learn from this little trip through writing purgatory: God is faithful to meet us right where we are.
Earlier this morning, I hobbled over to my desk and tried to start writing about one of the dozens of ideas scribbled on snippets of paper in my “Column Ideas” folder, but it just wouldn’t work. None of those dogs would hunt, as they say.
“Well, okay then,” I sighed. “This obviously isn’t working. The only thought in my head is that I don’t have any thoughts in my head. I guess that’s what I’ll write about.”
Lo and behold, now that I’m writing from that place of honesty, the blank page is starting to fill up. Words are flowing.
So, class, the lesson for today is this: Be real. That’s what God wanted from me today, and what I believe He wants from all of us, all the time.
Look at the way Jesus related to people in the Gospels and you’ll see it. He was drawn to folks who were honest. Honestly seeking, honestly desperate, honestly longing for truth and help and healing.
Pompous, pretentious, self-sufficient people missed or rejected all He offered them. They thought they didn’t need Him, what with their shelves full of trophies, walls full of diplomas, houses full of stuff… or file folders full of column ideas.
When we come to the end of ourselves, we have a chance to find Him. But His grace meets and enfolds us when we’re real, not when we pretend.
Psalm 62:8 says, “
The “pouring out” doesn’t have to sound holy, eloquent, or even coherent. It just has to be honest.
He’ll meet you there, in that place of fogginess, emptiness and desperation, just like He’s met me, yet again, today.