Writing through the cracks
Perhaps I wasn’t meant for long-form writing. Maybe my best work will always be these brief meditations, dropped like crumbs for others to find.
I’ve started and stopped more books than I care to admit. In my mind, I see the perfect book, bound in leather, sitting proudly on a shelf next to Calvin’s Institutes and Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress. But every time I settle into a rhythm, the chapters stall, ideas scatter like leaves in the wind, and I find myself back at the beginning. I start convincing myself that I’m not meant for long-form writing anyway. Maybe my best work will always be these brief meditations, dropped like crumbs for others to find.
I suppose I could chalk it up to laziness, though I suspect the truth is even less flattering. Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, says, “We have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us” (2Co 4:7). A jar of clay. That feels about right. Fragile. Easily cracked. Not exactly bestseller material. And yet, it’s in those cracks that God’s light shines through.
So here I am again, scribbling down a few thoughts, hoping that someone might be encouraged, that maybe this little essay will do what my grand writing projects could not—point someone to Christ. Maybe that’s always been the point. Maybe it’s less about publishing and more about pressing on, offering what I have in the moment. It’s no Spurgeon’s Morning and Evening, but perhaps it’s enough. Jesus fed five thousand with a few loaves and fishes. Surely, he can make something of my meager words.
James warns that life is a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes, so I’ve come to embrace the mist, as fleeting as it is (Jas 4:14). I’m learning to be content with these small offerings, trusting that God can take them and turn them into something far more significant than I ever imagined. If someone is edified, great. If God is glorified, even better.
The reality is I may never write that book. I may always be that guy who starts and stops, who can’t get past chapter two. But if these little meditations—these tiny glimpses into my walk with Christ—serve someone, even for a moment, then maybe that’s enough. After all, “whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him” (Col 3:17).
And if these words fade away like the mist, at least they’ll have disappeared in his service. That’s the only kind of legacy worth leaving.
All glory be to Christ.
Recommended reading
Ordinary by Michael Horton
Horton encourages believers to reject the pressure to achieve greatness and instead trust God’s work through small, ordinary acts of obedience.
The Imperfect Disciple by Jared C. Wilson
This book addresses our struggles with perfectionism and failure, offering grace-filled encouragement to embrace our imperfections as part of our life in Christ.