Not about me

 

I have sat at this ridiculous computer for an embarrassing amount of time and have come up with nothing of value to say.  There I said it.  For a writer it is humbling to have nothing to say.  You have expectations of writing something prolific even if those expectations are your own.  The love of using verbiage and imagination to bring life is intoxicating.  A blinking, inert computer cursor spells consternation to the weak of heart.
Then it hits me like a Strong's Concordance.  I began writing with the best of intentions.  My heart was to connect Jesus with others.  To be a voice poured onto paper for Him.  To sit intently at His feet and share those precious lessons we've poured over together.  In the past, the words were His.  The lessons were His.  The verbiage and imagination, all His.  These all poured effortlessly; life lessons translated from contemplation to paper.
He then gently reminded that the verbiage and imagination were never about me.  Humbling, though point well taken.
This very post has become its own life lesson for me.  I had no idea where I/He was going.  As I typed, He unfolded. As I came to the end of my own thoughts and ideas, He began typing.  I thought I was simply airing my own frustration when He was leading me the entire time.  When I came to the end of myself, He was there to step in.  It really is all about Him.