The Shocking Development for Which I Am Grateful

Do you know how it feels to think you’re alone?

Have you ever been the odd person out, the one who doesn’t fit in? When you were a kid, did you watch the Rudolf the Reindeer special and wish there really was an island for misfit toys where you could find your place?

That was me.

I was studious, chubby, and I loved Jesus. Not too many other ways a kid could be weird in the sixties. Seriously, in the decades of the sixties and seventies when everyone was letting it all hang out if you couldn’t find a crowd with which to hang you were truly out there. It baffled me for years but now I know – it’s the writer in me.

When we writer types are children, we honestly have no clue why we are the way we are. Socially awkward. Unfortunately observant and aware (so we KNOW how awkward we are). Unabashedly blunt with the truth with no sense of timing and seeking for what, we don’t even know. If you’re paying attention to us, we reject it and if you don’t pay attention to us, we work to make you look. Frankly, we frustrate ourselves.

Then, there’s this even stranger subset of us who are Christian writers. There isn’t even a word for our flavor of strange. We hear stuff from God when we read the Bible and when we attend church, which would be struggle enough, but then we also hear stuff when we’re at family events, doing our day job, or watching network TV.

And we’re not content just to hear from Him. Oh no. We have to tell someone else what we hear. To be fair, most of us TRY to be content just hearing from God and keeping it to ourselves but that’s not how we’re designed. For us, it’s like something hasn’t truly happened until we’ve told it to someone else. If we try to keep quiet, we make the people around us so crazy they shove keyboards beneath our fingers and say – Write, already!

So imagine our shock when we, the ones who don’t fit in, the ones accustomed to waddling like great albatrosses across the deck of society’s ship, imagine the overwhelming shock when we find readers willing to read what we have to say. Honestly, the shock nearly kills some of us. I know it did me.

When I started to blog in 2008, I was so certain no one would read it that I decided to write in my own weird little voice. I wrote about how I saw God at work through water bugs, hobbits, and Star Trek. I wrote my take on Jesus and how to live for Him in this decade now. I dared to say things with my own attitude and whacky metaphors. I felt entirely free to click “Publish” on all I’ve written because I was so certain that I was alone.

Imagine my shock when you arrived! It was the blessed surprise of learning I am not, in fact, alone. It must be what the albatross feels when he realizes his over-sized wings simply weren’t meant for flopping around on a long walk – they were designed for flight. You cannot imagine the gratitude I feel for you, loved ones. I’m thankful for you each and every day.

A writer needs readers. Oh, without readers, we would still write, that’s true, but with readers, we are no longer alone. I am so thankful for you. You write me thoughtful encouragements and kind praise. You private message me when you notice a typo (you’re so sensitive) and some of you write me privately to share how God has used my words to touch your heart. You support me in so many ways but the most important way is just by showing up so I’m not here alone. For this, I thank you. A thousand times, thank you. Thank you even if you never comment or send me note. I can truly say your presence here, reading these words, is enough.

Isn’t that a beautiful thing? I am a writer seeking a reader and there you are and that’s enough for us both. God is gracious and good all the time. He’s good when I feel alone and my words are still locked in my keyboard and He’s good when He lets me know that others are there who love Him, who long to hear from Him, and who long for adventure, too.

That’s all this post is about, loved ones, my gratitude for you. I just wanted to pause to say thank you for reading. You’ve no idea how that ministers to me. Or maybe you do. Welcome to the season. I’m glad I’ll be sharing it with you!