When writers get itchy and twitchy to start,
With fingers ready for typing, fire in the heart,
You dash to the desk with a spark and flash—
But who is in the driver’s seat as you dash?
Is it ego that wiggles and whispers, “Be seen.”
Or pride wearing sparkles of great writing sheen?
Might it be a nudge, soft and steady and true,
That says, “Here’s what God has given to you”?
You’re not a jellyfish drifting at sea,
Nor a robot that clicks at productivity.
You’re called to act—to write and to do—
Yet tuned to the Voice that’s wiser than you.
So sit in the chair and begin with a key tap.
Let nouns may stumble and verbs take a nap,
For drafts may be wobbly and awkward and slow,
Yet faithful small seeds are the best way to grow.
Sometimes you’ll pause with a hand in mid-air,
A flutter of caution with a whisper of prayer.
That still, small stirring that won’t let you race
May keep you from going at just the right pace.
Abraham hurried when the promise seemed late,
And fashioned a shortcut, trying to hurry up fate.
Impatience can birth what was never God’s plan—
Words written under pressure, but not by his hand.
So take every longing, each book and each dream,
Each platform and podcast and marketing scheme.
Lay it all before God. Then loosen your grip,
For striving makes storms out of one little drip.
Delight shapes desire like wind shapes a kite,
It lifts what is tethered and makes it all right.
When what you most want is what he wants too,
The next faithful step will come clearly to you.
Then initiative dances, not frantic or wild,
But steady and joyful—like trust from a child.
You’ll write when he whispers and wait when he’s still,
In partnership sweet with his purpose and will.
