How can I live - how shall I live. Obviously, the only way to live right is to give up everything. But I have no vocation & maybe that is wrong anyway. But how [to] eliminate this picky fish bone kind of way I do things - I want so to love God all the way. At the same time I want all the things that seem opposed to it - I want to be a fine writer. Any success will tend to swell my head - unconsciously even. If I ever do get to be a fine writer, it will not be because I am a fine writer but because God has given me credit for a few of the things He kindly wrote for me. Right at the present this does not seem to be His policy. I can’t write a thing. But I’ll continue to try - that is the point. And at every dry point, I will be reminded Who is doing the work when it is done & Who is not doing it at the moment. Right now I wonder if God will ever do any more writing for me. He has promised His grace; I am not so sure about the other. Perhaps I have not been thankful enough for what has gone before.
Can’t anyone teach me how to pray?
-Flannery O’Connor
I’m not even half way through this 30 days, and I’m already discouraged. Writing is difficult. It feels, more than ever, like pure practice and discipline. I know this consistency is good, but it often makes me question why I want to write.
Then I look to Flannery O’Connor’s words, and I’m comforted by the familiarity of her prayer. When I was given O’Connor’s A Prayer Journal a year ago, I read it through immediately. I needed this book. Not only do I love this author’s writing, but I also love her thought process while writing. Writing and prayer have always felt linked to me - O’Connor’s journal confirmed this suspicion. Here, she speaks plainly to God of her desire to write well. Before that, though, she writes of her desire to fully love God. She fears that her writing could potentially get in the way of such a whole-hearted love. Still, she prays for God’s words to be written through her hand. Even with the fear of a swelled ego or a life driven by success, she expresses her deeper desire to see the One who is at work.
I feel so connected to O’Connor in these words. I am not anywhere close to the writer she was, yet I know that struggle between two desires. I do want to write. I want to do it well and with purpose. At the same time, as I draw closer to God through his Word and through prayer, I realize how little I really have to offer. That feels a bit self-deprecating, but I am understanding that God’s good is the only kind worth striving for. Like O’Connor, if I ever write something worthwhile, I will know it’s only because God used me to do so. On my own, writing is self-indulgent and dissatisfying. It’s even felt like that during these past few weeks. I feel a bit embarrassed by saying so, but I have wanted praise and affirmation. Here I am writing about communion with God, and I get bent out of shape when no one notices my writing.
I must follow O’Connor’s example and remember who is working here. God is the one who drew me to prayer and gave me joy in writing. Without his presence, this stuff is meaningless. So in a dry point, I am clinging to this prayer. I’m holding onto the need for practice and the need for submitting to the Father. Both are necessary to a writer’s life.
I, too, want to learn how to pray. I want to learn more about responding to God’s character rather than my circumstances. Whether I write something great or not, God is still deserving of praise and thanksgiving. If I’m not able to pray or write out of gratitude, how do I expect to do either well? I must submit to him, allow him to work in me. I need to ask less of him when it comes to fulfilling my own desires or plans. I must let him lead me - as a writer, but mostly as a disciple.
So let me be led, Father. Lead me to write only what you would have in store for me. Let me trust your work, even if there is little affirmation in it. Let me love you with the way I entrust this writing life to you. I want to write well, but more so, I want to know you well. Thank you for drawing me to discipline, both in writing and in prayer.
Amen.