Recently, I got some well-meaning (but bad) advice from a friend: Never write a blog when you are depressed, frustrated, or disappointed. Always put your best foot forward.
My response: Guess my writing career is over.
Here’s the thing; writing is therapeutic for me. It’s how I process. It’s how I regain focus. Putting words to paper forces me to reflect. It drags me by the ear like a whining kid who doesn’t want to face reality but must. Frankly, writing is a lifeline for me.
Does that mean that sometimes what I write is raw? Yes.
Does that mean that sometimes what I publish is ugly? Yep.
Does that mean that a week or a month or a year later, I regret what I wrote? Nope. Never.
Even my dark side (and we all have one), can shine some light on a shared reality: We are all broken. But as someone once said, light shines best through our broken cracks.
A highly respected and world-famous pastor told me thirty years ago, “Always share from a place of victory! People need hope, and they find confidence when they see you as an overcomer!”
I love that man and still deeply respect him, but people find hope when they see and believe that no matter how messed-up their life is at the moment, they are not alone in their mess.
People need to hear from me (and you) that it is normal to struggle. It’s okay to wrestle with huge questions that you may not ever have an answer for on this side of eternity. People are desperate to know that being desperate is not a death sentence. They want to identify and relate to others who are feeling what they are feeling and fighting what they are fighting.
If you are a leader, a blogger, an author, or (and wait for it) . . . a human, please don’t hide your pain. Please don’t be afraid to be real and raw. Please let people see your struggles.
I’m not encouraging you to wallow in your misery without hope.
I’m not saying you should always be a Debbie-Downer (or Sour-Sam).
But if you’re bleeding. Bleed.
If you’re hurting. Hurt.
Let people see your humanness.
Real is not wrong.
And then, as you process and ache and curse the darkness, let the Light of Life pour through your brokenness. That is the path to hope for you and for others. Our weakness is a portal to God’s presence and power demonstrated through cracked pots like you and me.
David said, “Yep, I’m in a dark valley filled with scary things like death, but that’s not the end of my story. So, I choose not to fear evil, ‘cause I know I’m not alone.” (Bubna paraphrase of Psalm 23:4)
I love the Psalms of David because he consistently moaned, groaned, and complained, but he never got stuck there.
I write because it helps me get unstuck.
I bleed publicly rather than privately (in both my blogs and my talks) because I want others to know they are normal and in good company.
I share stories of hardship and struggle because that’s where we often find ourselves.
In a battle.
In the dark.
Confused and afraid.
But not alone. Never alone.
You see, our suffering makes Jesus shine, and He’s the only hero in our story.
“My grace is always more than enough for you,
and my power finds its full expression through your weakness.”
So I will celebrate my weaknesses,
for when I’m weak I sense more deeply
the mighty power of Christ living in me.
2 Corinthians 12:9 (TPT)
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