Dear Heavenly Father,
I don’t know how to process what is on my heart today.
I am not sure if these words should be written here, on my site, or if they are private utterances that should be left between You and I in my journal. Something tells me the public space is appropriate for this reflection, but even as I type, I am unsure.
That’s just it. I am never sure. I am never sure what I should be writing for the world, and what I should be writing for just You or just me.
I don’t know how to be a faith blogger.
That’s technically what I am, right? I don’t mind the category. It’s what I like to write about the most: how I see You moving in the world around me, and what I see You saying in Your Word.
The thing is that I don’t know is how to be a faith blogger whose faith remains true and vibrant.
I notice myself analyzing almost every situation in terms of what would fit into a 140 character tweet or written about in a compelling 600 word blog post. Have I started to squeeze You into a box of my own making? Am I shoving away the mystery?
There is so much about faith that cannot be summed up in these digital spaces and confined words.
I wonder sometimes if faith blogging limits my faith.
And yet, I have seen how blogging has cultivated my faith. The processing I have done in this space has grown me in innumerable ways. I treasure the community of people I am getting to know, who are welcoming my words into their lives.
Father, how can something be so helpful and so frustrating at the same time?
Oh, those moments when I feel a prompt from You to write. When I share something You have been teaching me and it hits home for others, too. The joy I feel to be in step with Your Spirit. I am honored and humbled by the ways You have used this space.
But in one more post, that feeling turns on its head. I try to write a post as successful as the last, and it comes up short. Just one comment. No shares. Embarrassing statistics. And on the same day, that other writer, that master of words I admire from afar, that writer has a post that spreads like wildfire.
And I wonder, who am I? Are You really using me at all?
I take matters into my own hands and I fail. The comparisons trap my trust in You beneath their weight. I am sorry God. I am sorry I forget so easily about that conversation we had at the beginning of all this.
You know, that talk You gave me when only a handful of people read my posts at all. When I wondered what in the world I was doing and if I should keep it up. But then, I had that phone conversation with someone I care about, telling me how my words had made a difference.
It was such a gentle word You gave me that day. The way You reminded me of the story of the lost sheep. That You are a God who goes after the one. You are not about numbers, You are about people.
If I pour my heart out in this space and touch only one other person’s life, that is a rich exchange in Your economy.
I’m sorry that I so often get caught up in the wrong things. This is not about the numbers of readers I have. This is not about how many times a post gets shared. This is not about how my writing skills compare to those of another.
This is about You. A living and active God moving in the world, and in each of our lives. This is about us, sharing stories, and reminding each other that our faith is true and we are not alone. This is about the way You can connect strangers who have never met to help each other in our times of need.
Faith blogging is a frustrating, difficult, miraculous, and beautiful responsibility.
Thank You for letting me have this space. Help me to honor You well in the midst of it.
I love You.
Your Beloved Child