From the Desert

I always look forward to the new year. Everything is fresh and clean, and I usually feel the fullness of hope at a chance to start again. To get right all the things I got wrong last year, to accomplish more, to make a bigger difference in the world around me. And of course, to be a better writer.

But here we are, halfway through January, and I’m not feeling it. The new year just doesn’t feel new. Instead, it feels like I dragged all of last year’s gunk along with me into 2013, and I hit a wall of discouragement about writing. Most of the difficult life circumstances I faced last year haven’t changed just because the calendar did, and those blasted voices of doubt have been taunting. I’ve developed a bad tendency of thinking, “When things improve, I’ll write more. I’ll probably even write better.”

I have a list of excuses as long as Kevin Durant’s arm for not writing today. I’ll get back at it tomorrow. Always tomorrow. And the more time that lapses, the more I begin to wonder what in the world I think I’m doing with this writing thing. Have I improved since I started this quest three years ago? Did God really put this dream in my heart or was I in some sort of delirium? Will I ever progress beyond this point?

But as I began to pray about this load of discouragement, I was reminded of Moses.

It’s thought that he’s largely responsible for writing the first five books of the Bible, which is kind of a big deal. According to all the smart people who figure this stuff out, the most likely time for Moses to have written these inspired, enduring stories, would’ve been during the time of wandering in the desert.

He led the Israelites through the wilderness for all those forty years, and along the way grew tired of his circumstances, weary of the bleak surroundings. Even so, Moses was faithful to write. He penned the story God put in his heart while he was in the desert, not when he’d finally arrived at the place of promise, which would’ve been much more comfortable and inspiring, I’m sure.

But no, Moses left his legacy from the desert. He endured forty years of unending chaos—armies chasing, people griping and rebelling, hungry, thirsty, weary, climbing mountains to meet God, coming down to heartache overflowing. Still, he wrote.

Moses told his story. God’s story. My story and yours.

And I heard the whisper…

Tell your story.

Leave your legacy.

Write.

As always, a God-whisper overpowers the voices of doubt. And so, it’s time to write.

How about you? Are you weary and wandering through the wilderness, or resting at an oasis? How do you push past the walls of discouragement? Have you heard any God-whispers lately?