Sometimes I wonder if I’m crazy.
Authors are either audacious or brave or both. What makes us think we have something to say? Doubts fill my mind. But as a blogger, writer, author, I’m finding that my “job” is not about the writing or the blog or the books or any of this. It’s about a compelling.
I am compelled to write. What started as a whisper from God for an idea for a book seven years ago has become my life.
It’s 8:30 at night on a Thursday, and I’m compelled to sit down and type a post for tomorrow. Nobody is forcing me. No paycheck awaits in my mailbox at the end of the month. I just can’t help it.
Are you compelled to do something? Do you feel if you don’t do that activity a piece of you will be missing?
If you feel compelled, I believe that is a sign of the calling. Perhaps Gabriel didn’t surprise you nor a burning bush lit your path, but you know. God has called you.
But despite the compelling and calling, do you doubt you can do what you’re compelled to do?
Are we crazy?
But. . .
“. . . God is able to make all grace abound to us, so that in all things, at all times, having all that we need, we will abound in every good work.” (2 Corinthians 9:8) (plural mine.)
Isn’t that a great promise? The word “grace” comes from a word meaning “causing joy, pleasure, and delight.
How do we know the compelling is from God? We know it when He gives us the grace–the joy, pleasure, and delight in the job.
The other morning as I wrestled through my (almost) daily battle about whether or not I could do what I’m compelled to do, a picture flashed through my mind of the women who anointed Jesus. Maybe these anointings were fresh on my mind because I just finished line edits for A Mary Like Me. I write about these women in the book. I love the act of worship they performed. (John 12:1-8 and Luke 7:37-39)
I often visualize worshiping Him this way.
But this time as the story flashed through my mind, I was not the one pouring the oil; I was the alabaster jar.
I wasn’t the one pouring.
I wasn’t the oil.
I was simply the vessel being emptied.
Just a plain, simple, kind of ugly jar.
I didn’t own the contents of the jar nor the hand pouring the contents out.
I was the one being held.
And the fragrant oil was something wonderful that someone had filled me with.
I was simply the vessel of which the oil was being poured out.
And somehow with no words at all, God settled my fears. He showed me that this calling is not about my talent or wisdom. It’s not about what I can do for Him. It’s simply about being apart of something greater.
It’s about worship.
And I’m compelled.
Share your thoughts: What are you compelled to do? Does this post help you to obey–to be the vessel?
Jesus loves you,