Know-Love-Obey God

High Calling Blogs Book Club:
The Right to Write:
An Invitation and Initiation into the Writing Life,
by Julia Cameron
Visit High Calling Blogs where Laura Boggess leads our discussion (and links to other posts).

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I know that when it comes down, it stays there for good. When the ink makes its mark guided by my own hand, I know that its opaque permanence will seep and stain the white page into a no-turning-back record, there for all to see. Even in a private journal, when I know I’m the only one who will see, I hesitate. After paper fibers absorb the liquid blue, there is no backpedaling, no denying, no pretending it never happened. If I don’t write it down, I can walk away humming with my hands over my ears. La, la-la, la-la . . .

When I refuse or choose not to lay the ink down, I play the coward. Not just that—I deny also the greatness of grace and forgiveness. It takes both bravery and humility to choose the indelible. Why be afraid? Perhaps it is unbelief.

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“How’s your week been?” a friend asked.

Because I trusted her, I told her. “Monday was not good. A cardboard day. I felt spiritually dry and lifeless. I had a quiet time and all, but it was just words on a page.”

“You, too?” she answered. “My Monday was like that, too! It doesn’t happen very often, but . . .” Then she read to me from her journal, Monday’s entry. She had written down, a forever record, that on that day she lacked an appetite for the Word and was spiritually dry.

This woman is not only brave. She is humble.

I looked at my own journal, Monday’s entry. On the page were just the normal notes about what I read that day. Nothing, not a word about the cardboard day.

Denial. Cowardice. Unbelief. Pride.

I did not do it that Cardboard Monday, but writing for me has been a form of confession. Something happens when I am open with the page. Something like healing.

When I hoard thoughts about jealousy, or bitterness, or discontent, they remain. Unwritten, they seem reasonable. But once I get it in those can’t-take-it-back ink marks, I can see clearly. The words are in front of me in my own penmanship, and I say, “Did I actually write that?! What a ridiculous way to think!” Most often, it happens when I type an email to a friend (a dear one named Beth knows this well) or speak it verbally to a trusted friend, but the James 5:16 magic can also happen in my own private journal. And I confess it to God.

Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another so that you may be healed.
(James 5:16)