Gifts Are For Worship
I’m sleepy and I don’t want to write but the guilt is killing me. I said I would do this. I feel called to do this. WHY DOES IT FEEL LIKE SUCH A FIGHT? I enjoy it, for crying out loud! But to actually prioritize the time and sit down and let my thoughts simmer until something overflows? It’s HARD.
I also feel like someone is peering over my shoulder. No one may *ever* see this file and yet I feel I have to be brief. Get to the point. Linger over your word choices. Carefully craft each sentence. Instead of just letting the words tumble out and onto the page - to be carefully crafted later - I get stuck. It’s the exercise of sitting down and writing that’s beneficial more than the words that end up on the page. I know that, but why don’t I act like it?
And I don’t want to be an Ann Voskamp type (love her though!) with a little too much flowery language and a little too much poetic feel… but am I? Is that how I just am? That’s how I think - at night when I’m trying to fall asleep and instead I’m writing in my head (how do I get THAT onto paper?!). My words feel effortless then, and steeped in emotion and forethought and care. How do I translate that into something that exists to be read again?
The best poem I ever wrote was walking in the rain in our neighborhood. In the most comfortable crew neck sweatshirt with a cool breeze blowing up the oversized sleeves. And I don’t even remember it. I just remember the beauty of the words.
Perhaps the Lord gave me the gift of words simply to exalt Him. Not to be read or shared or profess wisdom I likely do not possess - but what if it’s purely for the enjoyment of my Father? I know He had to have enjoyed that poem… it was all about the perfection of this world in that short walk. A love letter to God for creature comforts.
I feel that way about singing too. I love to sing, and I have a decent voice - untrained and occasionally off key, certainly not a grammy winning voice but I just love to sing and I’ve always loved to perform, in theater especially growing up. I felt a profound sadness earlier this year when I realized if I had been in a church growing up that allowed instrumental worship (or women to lead worship at all), I could have cultivated that gift inside the church instead of just in theater. I felt robbed. But I also contend that the Lord placed me in my family and in the church in which I was raised intentionally - so I won’t allow myself to be upset about missing out when I truly believe I was where I needed to be (and I’m grateful for that - it was the foundation of my faith). Anyway, it later occurred to me that perhaps my gift isn’t lost because I never got to polish it and present it to the world. Perhaps the gift of my voice and love of singing is simply to worship God the Father. Alone, for no one but Him. The freedom and excitement that realization brought me has fundamentally changed how I view the talents I’ve been blessed with.
They are not wasted in this season with young children and limited free time, like I am so often tempted to feel. So I’m not leading worship for a mega church or recording music (ha!). So I’m not publishing books or on a speaking circuit. So I’m not a prolific graphic designer who has to turn away clients. But what if my gifts aren’t ever truly for that anyway? What if they’re simply an avenue to worship the Lord most high? For singing at the top of my lungs while folding laundry, in worship and gratitude for the tiny clothes I get the honor of cleaning and putting on little people. For writing words in my journal to offer praise and gratitude to the Creator who gave me those words in the first place. For doodles that help me to meditate on His word and create something beautiful with paper and ink, simply for the sake of experiencing the meditation of worship?
They are not wasted, they exist for worship. If I also get to use them to share, then all the better. What freedom and beauty.
Well. It looks like I did have something to say after all tonight.