One of my test readers recently sent me an email that both blessed me and reminded me of what we’re all about as writers. At the end of her email, she included a prayer: God, I pray you give Henry wisdom, knowledge, creativity, patience and energy to finish Your book. Amen and Amen.
It’s not my book. It’s His. I’m His instrument, His tool to get the message out that He wants shared.
At one level, I knew this. I’d like to think everything I do is for Him. But there are times when the ego gets in the way and I lose sight of Him. It becomes my book, my project.
But that’s not true. He inspires us to write the words. In obedience to Him, we do and the writing flows. It’s not perfect the first time because I’m not perfect. But the refining, pruning process applies to our writing as much as it does to our spirits. My role is to have my heart in the place where my words can be grafted onto His vine and not lopped off as unfit for the Master’s use.
I’m His vessel, the clay in His hands. But it only works if I’m humble and obedient enough to put me aside and let Him shape and mold. And sometimes it hurts because I love my words but He has better ones. And sometimes it hurts because the words He wants me to write in fiction reveal an area in me that needs work, work that must be done if I am to go forward with Him.