writer's block

stark white January sun against naked charcoal trees
the beach to myself.

Maybe it's my belief in common human experience that makes me reject the idea that I have something unique to contribute through writing, or song composition, or art...

What emotions have I lived or verbal expressions have I formulated that haven't already been articulated by thousands of others throughout decades of existence? Is it a futile waiting for the perfect vocalization or a completely new sentiment that will keep my soul timid and voiceless forever? Or is it simply fear of failure or ridicule?

You have given many precious experiences to many people who feel more deeply and articulate more profoundly than I do.

Am I denying a gift, counting myself unworthy? Am I storing the blessings of others in my own secret well out of insecurity? Let it not be.

I don't want to join the masses of watery Christian novels or musings of mediocre poets who use long words to their own detriment. I sometimes think that the continual outpouring of writing since its origination has left me in the year 2008 facing a saturated market, so to speak. But this is not the case. For the same reason the music industry continues to live, authors can still sell books.

Why? Is it because they restate old truths for a contemporary audience? This seems useful, perhaps, but rather uninspiring. Or are people actually writing new themes? Could it be that your creative energy is still flowing and growing through human words? Could my writing become an outpouring of your Spirit and somehow bless the world? Could I find the bravery to act if I become convinced this is true?

I pray to discover a new confidence. I have a lot of bravado but very little deep assurance about who I am and the gifts you've given me. Is timidity my divine thorn or a tragic flaw?

Jesus, what a beautiful afternoon. How I can sit here with harsh wind nagging me back to the comfort of my car but the crisp beauty of the Sound and novelty of crashing waves giving me a militant determination to brave the tumult, and the Holy Spirit for company while thoughts of self-destructive tendencies give my mind sober fuel for endless questions.

Despite all my issues, I am still happy to be me.