I spend much of my day writing. Writing lists. Writing names. Writing content. And at the end of the day I am exhausted. I have nothing left to write. Not in a blog or a newsletter. Not in anything personal, really. My creative juices have gone dry. I ask for Him to fill my cup and out of the overflow of that filling I give to others. Fill up the cup again, Father.
Much of my job involves writing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve written over lists of people- passport numbers and children’s birthdays and important dates and degree information and school placements. I write lesson plans and training material. I write content for websites. I write diplomatically and professionally as I deal with unique situations in my job (across cultures and across demographics) and try to do so with the grace that can only possible come from Someone outside of myself. I write awareness articles (or try) to motivate people to break outside their own little worlds, getting that log out of my own eye first. I wonder if anybody is listening. I wonder if anybody cares. I wonder if anybody is impacted- students, friends, co-workers. The lists of names seem endless. The efforts sometimes seem in vain. Most people will never notice. The enemy taps discouragement on my heart like pieces of indiscernible morse code, getting louder and louder as time goes by. All I see sometimes are lists and content and names that need to be manipulated and fashioned and made well to fit somehow into the grand scheme of things. Then something changes. Out of my control. I try something else, and write it all again. And I am tired.
But, then something happens. Something comes as a reminder from Above. Sometimes it is as a fire or a rolling thunder, but most often as a gentle whisper. A still small voice that says, “It matters.” Let me show you how.
Those lists of names, those pieces of content, those seemingly endless bits of information stringed together– they become real people. The lists become real people who have left all that is familiar and off the airplane and into this city. They walk into the door of your life. They come with their own stories of this great Journey. They are excited. They make a mark. They leave an impression on your heart. They go from this place able to impact their campuses and cities. Some of them are able to venture into corners of the world that VERY few people get to go. They come back with stories of faithfulness, of “Amazing Grace.” They dare you not to let the tears flow as they share. And you walk away with a reminder that it’s all worth it. They got here and now that they can go in areas of darkness and beam lights toward the way Home. And you got to play a small part in that.
Just yesterday I was able to greet some of these people. They are some of those who were able to go where few have been able to go– and then to return to report all they had seen and heard. And I think every single person in that room walked away encouraged and deeply humbled by the Father’s good favor upon these servants. Upon all of us.
So, with renewed motivation I go back to my lists. I go back to the drawing board. I pour over hotel room assignments and complicated visa forms. My red pen marks up papers and challenges people to aim for a better system. I continue to write. Sometimes in a blog. Sometimes in an email to an old friend. Sometimes in a letter just for my Father. Where energy is lacking I ask the Father to fill my cup again to overflowing. And I smile with newfound joy in my heart.