I once had a story that I just had to control.
Words were my kingdom, each page my goal.
I slaved and polished and revised till I cried,
But somehow the magic kept dying inside.
I chased every concept and rhyme I could find,
But brilliance kept slipping away from my mind.
The harder I tried, the more tangled I got.
My stories felt clever, but really were not.
Then softly a whisper said, “Pause for a while.
You’re missing my meaning by chasing your style.
You’re building the what but forgetting the why.
Just surrender your pen, and together we’ll try.”
I held it back and said, “But these words are mine.”
God merely chuckled. “They’re yours by design.
But without my Spirit, you can’t kindle a flame.
Let me help your story to breathe in my Name.”
So trembling, I yielded and laid down my pride.
Then I felt something wonderful stirring inside.
The phrases grew deeper. The rhythm grew strong.
The page came alive like someone singing a song.
Now writing’s no longer a battle for me to win,
It’s joy in the journey, having God as my kin.
Each word is by prayer. Each line is his art,
For his stories are best penned from the heart.
So if you are weary from chasing the praise,
And stuck in the fog of your self-driven maze—
Remember the secret I learned way back when:
The best words are written when God guides the pen.
