I wrote a book and have another one turned into the editor. This one is “Transforming the Prodigal Soul,” and the next one has a working title of “The Benefits of Grace,” probably out this summer. I’ve written a book before without an editor but it really wasn’t very good and I think I’ll re-write that one with help sometime in the next year or two.
Somebody asked me why I write and I write because it’s in me. I assume it’s like a painter wanting to paint. Most painters don’t believe they are Picasso, Monet or Michelangelo but they paint anyway. I wonder, for that matter, when those guys started knowing they were those guys. Before they were known they were unknown and they painted anyway.
I don’t need to be known and struggle with the right rhythm of how and when to make the book available and known. Constant chirping about it on social media will get old. No discussion at all will be a waste of the time and money that was put into it. I think there is value to what God gave me to put into words but I don’t want to presume that value or the audience that the Lord has in mind.
A friend of mine was a youth pastor years ago and they started a Saturday night service at his church. He didn’t want to have Saturday night services because he didn’t think High School kids were going to want to go to church on Saturday nights. He was right; only one kid showed up the first night they rolled out the new youth program during the new adult services.
There they were, the two of them, and my friend said to the kid, “let’s go get a steak.” So they went and had a steak dinner for youth group meeting, the two of them. They talked and ate and it was good, but it wasn’t preaching to the multitudes like my friend had been trained to do and aspired to do.
Years later, that kid was an adult and he got in touch with my friend. The kid that had become a man also had become a youth pastor and he was investing in others. He told my friend that he still remembers that steak dinner and it impacts how he interacts with others. The multiplication of the steak dinner was one life invested in another and that other invested in another and on and on.
What do you do? Write? Paint? Sing? Buy somebody dinner? Do what you do with the intention of sharing what is in you and leave the results and multiplication up to the One that put your “it” in you in the first place.