Writing again! Part II: This time it's different.

For more than ten years, I had a pretty steady writing gig. It didn't pay anything, but I loved it. I wrote short sketches for the various churches I attended across that decade. I'd come to it in a church that produced in-house-written dramas at least a couple of weekends a month. These weren't the "youth group Christian skits" I knew from growing up... You know the treacly, sappy ones where there's a very overt message with which you are beaten repeatedly over the head? Things like the lady who wants to take up her cross like Jesus and goes into a shop but thinks the actual cross is too cumbersome and keeps talking the salesperson down until she walks out with a cross necklace. Or the one with the girl Jesus is trying to follow around and hold in his arms, and she keeps yelling at him to leave her alone, which he won't, so she finally holds him in place by tacking his hands up in a crucified position? Yeah... ugh. No.

The philosophy at the first church that I attended was that the dramas were to open up a can of worms, and then it was the preacher's job to fix everything. Basically, we used drama or comedy or whatever storytelling mode was appropriate to ask a question in a very real, very raw way. Some people even hated that, but it's okay. Music doesn't touch everyone, but it touches a lot of people. I think that drama is the same way. It breaks down walls.

I had an incredible writing mentor in Las Vegas, and he helped me hone my craft so much. I would send him a script (he's a performer and would often be off on cruises or performing in Los Angeles) and wait in nervous excitement for him to write me back... Always encouraging, always gracious (but not to the point of exaggerating the merits of what I'd done), but also always quick to get to the business of, "You missed a huge opportunity for a joke here," etc. He helped me learn how to rabidly attack my writing, getting rid of excess without mourning my precious "babies." His guidance taught me how to relish constructive feedback without having any negative feelings or insecurities about it.

So I wrote. I wrote a lot. I tried to worm my way into whatever arts programs that churches had when I'd go, and if there wasn't one in place, I was always game to give it a go.

That all ended a the beginning of 2011. When the cracks in my marriage were revealed and the whole thing crumbled, I was relieved of my responsibilities so that I could focus on reconciliation of my relationship. What actually happened came as quite a shock to me...

I know, or I acquiesce to this in theory, that my identity is found in Christ alone. It is God's creation and love that gives me worth, and no one can take that away from me. Not the opinion of others, not my own poor choices, and certainly not what I do or don't do. But what I realized had happened, once this was removed as an outlet for me, is that at some point, I'd mentally shifted from being a child of the King to being that child of the King who writes stuff. When the "writing stuff" outlet was taken away, I found myself not understanding where I fit into things, and I did not "feel" as close of a relationship to God. I think that I was mistaking the momentum of output in an area I adored for an intimacy with God.

To be certain, I know that any ability I might possess to write comes from God. Like I mentioned in the last post, the story came to me, not from me, and I was overjoyed by the process. I was mostly grateful for the opportunity to write *for* something again. I'll write, anyway. I'll blog. I'll observe. I'll make you all sick of my words. It's already happening, right? But to have a goal, a reason, and to be able to share with other people... It's what I love.

And maybe I'm doing it for the love of writing from now on. Maybe God doesn't want me to confuse so personal a passion and service with a closeness to Him. All I know is that I was shaken to my foundations when I was pulled off of the short film we'd begun to work on, and it took me a long time to figure out where I fit in with God again. I had been so certain that using whatever talents I had in church was how God had planned to "redeem" my otherwise fairly useless liberal arts education, and maybe it was... for a time. I think maybe now, there is fulfillment to be found in writing wherever the opportunity arises, and in believing in earnest that all is sacred.

I'm okay with that.