Posts Tagged ‘Lack of Confidence’

We’ve all heard this title so often the words become cliché, but please grant me the privilege of referring to that lonely road one more time.

My husband and I were scouring the countryside around Crandall, Texas, for photo ops last weekend and due to the drought, found few. We meandered up and down country lanes which had become washboards that rattled our brains, not to mention the underpinnings of my car. Dust clouded the windshield and I was ready to call “uncle” and go home.

Then I saw it—that special frame—the one shot that made the whole afternoon worthwhile. And like a lollipop to a stick, I connected to this picture, this premise, this long, lonely, path. The one God calls us aside to hear Him. You know, the road less traveled.
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A super highway snaked not a mile away and farm to market roads (that’s what we call two lane roads in Texas) not a half mile to the north. All busy taking folks from Crandall to Dallas or Terrell. But this little path rolled along the curvature of the pasture, probably carved by a single tractor. Over and over again.

The past few years of my life trailed through my mind. And I connected with the ruts and ridges worn deep in the earth by the journey each morning from home to pasture, and each evening back home again. An HD picture of my life.

Years ago I began writing, received a few rejections, and threw the manuscripts in a drawer. Every now and again I’d pull them out and do a rewrite, until five years ago. God tapped my shoulder and said “now or never.” He brushed away my frugal excuses about lack of money by the announcement of a half price writing conference ready and waiting for me to enroll. So I registered, attended, and the rest is history.

Within ten minutes of walking into that intimidating gathering, I found out numerous things I had done wrong. No wonder I’d been rejected. God connected me with a writing family and for the next five years I diligently pursued my goal of becoming a writer—until a month ago.

I was tired. Exhausted. Bone weary with words. Edit groups, rewrites, hours placating a temperamental computer, costly conferences, dollar signs plastered over each ink cartridge, more edits and editing, and time, bolts of time—all for what? What if I couldn’t even write?

Oh, I’d received a trio of awards for a few chapters. But I cried out to God that night, “God, am I truly doing what you want me to do? I know you slashed that conference fee years ago so I could afford it, but have You changed your mind? And as far as schmoozing publishers and editors at conferences—You know I can’t do it. Am I even a writer? Please show me. I want to be in the center of Your will, whatever that will is.” After another few minutes of groaning and whining to the Lord I drifted to sleep.

And Wednesday morning I didn’t wake up feeling any better.

Sunday evening a writer friend and I were emailing about her new book and she asked, “What did you ever do with that book you were working on when we attended that seminar four years ago?”

She couldn’t see me, but tears rimmed my eyes and I hung my head, ashamed, and typed, “nothing.” And hit send.

Several minutes passed and another email flashed across my screen. “Do you have back-cover copy?”

I replied, “Yes.”

“Do you mind if I send it to my editor?”

My breath caught in my throat and my world stopped. In that second I bowed my head and breathed, “Oh Lord, you did hear me. You are here and You do care.” I wept as a wave of Jesus’ compassion and grace washed over me.

I know many of you reading this blog tonight may be experiencing fierce fiery darts from the enemy of your soul—I’m not good enough. I can’t do this. I don’t know which way to turn. What’s the matter with me?

Bill Gilliam says, “Satan speaks to us in first person singular with a southern accent.” And I can hear all of us agreeing “Amen.” It’s hard to maintain your footing and your focus when barrages strike home over and over again. Yet we motor along that super highway trapped in the crowd, just trying to keep up or out run them.

When God asks us to pull onto that road less traveled, pause in a shady spot, and ask, scream, or sob—“Help me, Lord. I don’t know where I am or what You want me to do. Please show me Your way.”

God knew my needs and He knows your needs. He called me to that place of quiet calm.

That Sunday evening God guided a very special young woman to come alongside to be a conduit and confirmation of His refreshing love and encouragement poured out on me. And I received hope. His hope. I was reminded of His truth, my life is in His hands.

But I wonder how many times I’ve raced down those endless farm roads of life, one thought in mind—getting to my destination. Dried out and dusty, too busy to hear the Spirit’s urging to notice and help someone else struggling in the constant chaos of the freeway and traffic jams of life. Too distracted to invite them to travel with me along the road less traveled. And too tired to care.

Where does Jesus find you today? In need of help or in need of helping? The Word tells us “We have not because we ask not.” And these words apply to whichever situation you find yourself tonight. Talk with the Father. Ask Him. He loves to hear the sound of your voice—even if you’re whining.DSCF6619 030

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, in Christ, just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved” (Ephesians 1:3-6 NASB).

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