I am never more honest or real than when I am writing. Never more vulnerable or open about the questions and my seeming lack of answers. My ponderings toward praise; my wanderings toward doubt. These words pour across the pages of my journal, emptied out in drops and rivers. The skewed perspective that comes from this solitary view of mine as the writer.
This seemingly insignificant, yet significant, paradox of me.
And God.
And faith.
And not faith.
Sometimes I find myself dangling by a lone, red thread of words connecting what I feel in the moment to what I believe and hold as Truth eternal.
The joys that flit through my days, lighting up my sky like firefly glow twinkling through gathering dusk. The pain that tears through seasons of my soul, swirling angry winds at will, leaving me disoriented and shaken in the wake of so much hurt. The unknowns that rise to threaten this refuge of known and true, thundering their accusations against my firm, if teetering, foundation.
If God is _______ then_______?
The writer in me fills in the blanks with words best describing my wounded heart. From whispers of doubt to shouts of belief, I pen the faith that holds me steady through it all. Words that draw me toward truth even as lies circle their quarry, awaiting the moment I lower my guard. The lion prowls continually, seeking to devour, yet never quite being able to overcome the One who resides within.
The One who holds me steady as I grasp that lone red thread of words unraveling redemption’s story.
My story.
The writer pours line after line upon empty pages, letter after letter falling into place to frame the essence of me. Completing the puzzle with fragments and run-ons and choppy prose bearing my likeness. Scattered thoughts brought together with precise randomness framing this mixed-up, multimedia collaboration of me.
Releasing myself through words only to capture myself more completely, in both the questions and the answers I discover.
The writer journeys day by day.
Leading me toward myself.
And toward God.
And finds us both a little more along the way.
This post was written in conjunction with Five Minute Friday’s word prompt of “Writer.” You can join us here: http://www.lisajobaker.com/five-minute-friday
Mere Whispers 
“And faith. And not faith.” This resonates.
That’s where I am right now. A filament of words, grace before every meal, the only thing tethering me to my faith. Hoping that filament is strong enough to carry me through to the other side. Thank you for this, today, when I was open to it, and it could be seen and HEARD, all the way down where real things are.
This is my first FMF.
I’m glad you were the link before me.
Praying God sustains you and keeps you with His truth and grace – all the way down where things are real. Be blessed.