Lover of God, wife, mother, British missionary in Peru... click here to learn more about Anna and this blog and how it can serve you.

When writing a blog is too complicated...

When writing a blog is too complicated...


Something I wrote back in March followed by an update... 

They say that it takes a while to discover your writing voice.  A while to recognize your particular style.  


Since December I have not written on the blog.  I have too much and nothing to say at the same time.  I hate the matter-of-fact, trying-to-put-everything-into-neat-little-boxes-to-explain-God-and-the-world style of my writing.  God Himself and my life are so many layers of unknown to me right now that the very idea of trying to simplify and reduce Him or my life into pithy little summaries seems horrifying to me.  Life is just too raw for sewn-up corners and neatly organized bookcases of thought. 


But perhaps, in the hating of my style and voice, I have finally been able to see it.  I have begun to see the voice God is giving me - one to share the honest and the unknown, the sharp and the gentle together.  Perhaps, I can now identify something of my voice: a call to trust in the midst of the crazy, unknown nature of life.  A call to keep going and to keep believing.  I can see a purpose in the writing and dare to belief it might make a difference to somebody or at least be part of my testimony of a Faithful God. 


I am nauseated reading so many blogs where it has become all about us and me and what I can get out of God and I hate focusing on me, as if my life is anything other than nauseating too in its unholiness and facades of holiness.  And yet, I have little much else to write except my experience.  

But could it be that in the shift from my nothingness to focusing on His Everythingness that the purpose of the writing begins to be revealed?  In the recognition of my limitedness, His Limitnessness shines through?


My thoughts are often scary or numb right now, so I do not know where to begin writing.  I don’t see God very clearly right now and I am okay with that, but it makes it complicated to write.  Everything I have embraced about God I still know to be true and yet so much of it seems so clichéd and not alive in me right now.  How can I put into words something that doesn’t appear or feel to be true to me right now even if I choose to believe it is because life isn’t just about feelings, is it? 


I sat in a taxi this morning whilst the taxi driver asked me what I believed.  For 40 minutes we talked about faith and religion and how I have experienced the Holy Spirit and how I personally knew (in the 'knowing someone' way) that God was real.  I shared confidently and openly about what I believe, and why and how God has been close and real to me in the past few years and even this month, but as I shared I feel like I am outside my body, wondering if this person who is sharing is really me, or just a trained robot.  I feel a disconnect to who I am.  Do I really believe all the things I am declaring and desiring to believe? For if it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved (Romans 10:10). What if my heart feels numb right now? Am I still believing? 


I read that grief hits its hardest six weeks later.  Could this be the hard grief I am experiencing six weeks after losing another baby? What is this numbness that envelops? Anger’s hard pointed shell? Denial’s looking away? Combat fatigue after so many battles and skirmishes in the last few months? 

So used to fighting, organizing, preparing, keeping myself strong, disciplining myself to find space and quiet time and time with God and yet all that just feels too overwhelming right now.  Seeking God feels like so much of an effort, as if it all relies on me. 


But I know, that whatever this numbness may be, His grace surrounds.  I looked up what the Greek word ‘kardia’ - ‘heart’ means in Romans 10.  It is the seat of our belief: the seat of desire and willingness as well as emotions.  Although I feel numb and disconnected right now, that does not mean I am not willing or desiring Him.  I very much am.  These footsteps forward in doing what I know to be right, despite not being accompanied by feelings of joy, can still be plodded out with love and kindness and patience, trusting that at some point joy will break through again. Could this numbness even be His grace? His loving arms blanketing my soul giving it space to breathe and be and keep walking slowly forward? Telling me to be patient, and give it time and to give myself time to heal. And that He is here and real and not going anywhere.  He is trustworthy and He will take it from here - just relax in His arms and be. And breathe.

That was what I wrote back in March and although the numb fog of which I wrote has generally lifted, writing and publishing on the blog has been a struggle which I haven't had the energy to engage with.  I have not written much on the blog in the last few months.  For a month or two since Christmas I didn’t even write offline, which was definitely very strange / death for me.  I lost my confidence in what I was even thinking.  Writing and ideas seemed insignificant in the light of lost babies, a burst ovary, surgery, team mates who moved on, financial questions, heavy ministry workload and embracing my boys and trying to live out life fully and 'normally' with them in the midst of all the upheaval.  


But after some encouragement from my husband, I have decided I am going to try and write again because I believe that people need to hear others struggling and know that that is okay, good, healthy and important because it is the gateway to breaking out of that cocoon! 


I don’t know if my writing style will be different - I definitely feel like my life is more wobbly that it once was, although He is not.  But as I try and walk this tightrope of faith, somedays it takes all my concentration just to stay focused straight on Him and not fall off.  But as I walk, one foot in front of the other, I invite you to come and join me.  It is wobbly up here, and at times I feel so close to falling off, but then I just remember that you can’t walk on water unless you get out of the boat, and those crashing waves around me are not the truer reality.  


Looking forward to connecting with you more in the weeks to come...please do leave a comment and say 'hi!'.  

Is it okay to rest when everyone else is striving?

Is it okay to rest when everyone else is striving?

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