What Are My Motives?

I sit, fingers curled, floating over keyboard. Screen staring at me.  White with hope of words.

Effortlessly, instinct calls me to dart off like a jet, streaming words before me….

….Leaving trails of thoughts behind me.   

But this time…..I want to stop.  First.  Examine my motives.

Why am I writing? 

Why do I take the time to put my life in black and white…And share it with the world?

I heard, at church, a sermon…”Signs of maturity”.  It went….

As an immature, infant in Christ, we often….

1. Seek God for gain.  
2. Seek God to appear holy before men.  

Prosperity. Religion.  Not uncommon to modern day man. Our pastor explained.  We are all human…susceptible to fall back again and again, into ditches of self-centeredness. 

Frequently.

We must constantly check ourselves and pull away from man centered motives….And I see that need in me.  For…

I too am human.

Yet, maturity in Christ is knowing….

We are desperate, above all, for Him and Him alone.

We seek Him….despite struggles or gain…

Not for what we can get…

But because In Him is our everything.

And in this stage…..

Somehow our prayers change.

Instead, of “More“, or “Give me“, or “Let them see”.

We pray…”Make me like you. Lord, Purify me.”  No matter what the cost. “Refine me“.

And I digest, embrace my need to daily, laying down my writing.

My everything….For Him.

And in years past, words surfaced, like a volcano, desperate to overflow. 
          Yet, I repressed them.
                    Feared them.
                              And like the immature…sought riches and people’s approval instead.

.….Running from my purpose.

Rejecting everything God was birthing in me….

Yet, He kept telling me.  You are more.  More than a teacher. A mother. A wife.  A Church goer.

You are a writer.

And I know….When I write I feel more alive than anything.
          Running a 5k.
                   Traveling across country.
                           Getting my college degree.

…..Anything.

And it’s true….I am not filled with faith all of the time.

I must….like anyone else….train my mind to turn from defeat, distractions, lies.  Movies past constantly re-winding within the corners of my mind.

So I write.

I write to shift my mind from lies to truth. 

For as words lay misaligned on the screen before me….not coherent with the reality of His being. 

I can puncture them….with Scripture. Worship.  The reality of…His goodness.

…..Regardless of my feelings. Or past history.

Painting over lies with the truth of His revelation in me.  His Word. 

…..Through writing.

Writing has become…My healing.
                                                  My restoring.
                                                                      My redeeming.
Yet, I must keep looking….always…for those subtle, resurfacing signs of immaturity….

And instead of fearing what is within me.  Running from.  Or condemning.

I choose to see it.

Accept it.  Face it. And declare it….not with empty words of faith or denial based “happy” masks.

But by writing.

For I know. I am not a saint.

….More like the Israelites. Failing to see when God leads subtly by His Spirit.

So I write…..to remember His goodness. 

And I pray….my writing has some purpose.  Relays my story.  And the story of those around me.

Written on pages.
           By these curled fingers.
                        Heart aching to paint a picture…..of His glory……Despite my failures.

One word at a time.