I mentioned on the blog last week that there was some big news coming to this little space, and some of you who really pay close attention may have noticed that this didn't happen. Neither did the MOB Society re-launch on October 1st. As of September 29th, we were still fighting some technical difficulties, and in order to be able to bring you a cohesive, strong, functional website, we decided to push it back another week. The re-launch is now scheduled to happen October 8th, but that's not really what I wanted to talk to you about. What's on my heart is that piece of big news, and while I'm not going to give you all of the details just yet (wait until Tuesday!) I will give away an important part of it... (WARNING: I'm getting ready to get really vulnerable).
I'm getting ready to release my first traditionally published book.
You know, the kind you can find at the bookstore? That kind. I'll be telling you more about it (important things, like the title, and how you can get it) starting Tuesday. For the next few weeks, I'll even be sharing a behind-the-scenes look at everything that's happened over the last year or two to get me here. But for now, I'd like to share what's happening in my heart right now, on the cusp of letting the whole world know about it.
Or rather, I have been for the past week or so. You might think my fears have to do with whether the book is a failure or a flop, but that isn't it. I really don't need this book to be successful to feel personally fulfilled, because what God has already given me—my family, friends, salvation— is more than enough.
What I'm really afraid of is that my words aren't good enough to do the subject justice...that some people might read the words and miss the message, and because of that miss an opportunity to ignite a fire I'm praying will change the world. Did I get the message right? Did I phrase things the right way so that people will understand what's in my heart? Are my messy, first-time author words enough?
These are the things that have been going through my mind for the last week. I've never experienced this level of self-doubt before, and I think it's because I've watched so many other Christian authors get crucified over what they wrote in a book. If my words aren't good enough, someone's going to tell me. Whether they do it in a godly way or not depends on them, but I know it will happen. I poured out my soul in this book, and the way God brought it to me was exactly what my heart needed to know it was Him.
I know it was Him.
But now that we're so close, I'm struggling to trust Him. It's like placing your heart—all the things that matter to you, the reason you are who you are—on a silver platter and offering it to the masses in hopes that they won't stomp on it too hard. It's raw, and it's vulnerable, and it's risky.
But it's also good.
And that's where I have to keep my eyes. It's good because God brought it. It's good because God has used it to stretch me, and shape me, and teach me more about Him. It's good because this process of publication taught me what the most precious things in life really were, and I wouldn't trade any of that heart level knowledge I now have.
Today, as I prayed at the altar during church, palms open, heart lifted, I decided to change the way I looked at that silver platter carrying around my heart. Instead of seeing it as an offering to the masses, I'm going to choose to look at it as a gift to my Savior, the first fruits of my heart.
The reality, my friends, is that none of us really have all that much to offer Jesus in return for all He's given us. Our gifts pale in comparison to His, but He specializes in taking the little bit we have and making it into something beautiful. So I'm going to trust Him to do that, or whatever it is He wants to do, with my book.
It's like the little boy with the loaves of bread and fishes. He had pretty much nothing to offer Jesus when he was plucked out of that hungry crowd. But what he did have, he freely offered. Looking at his basket with worldly eyes made it clear that what he had to give wasn't enough, not good enough to make a difference. But Jesus saw the truth: a miracle waiting to happen.
A heart inclined to God is a miracle waiting to happen.
I might not be the best writer in the world, but I am His beloved, and that's really all that matters. With this knowledge tucked deep down in my heart, and with hands that I'll choose to keep open no matter what, I'll tell you about the gift on my silver platter Tuesday.
(P.S. If you're reading this in an email, click on over and share your thoughts with us!)