I’ve been doing too much waiting lately.
Waiting to feel I have a purpose, instead of simply doing things that I know — even if I don’t feel — to be purposeful. Waiting to meet the perfect idea, instead of just writing toward ideas. Waiting for people and things to discover me, instead setting out to discover things and people. Waiting to feel brave enough.
“Brave enough” is a silly thing to wait upon. I suspect that the bravest things done have been done, not because anyone felt brave enough, but because someone recognized the thing that must be done and did it, even though it felt impossible.
Milton reminds that “they also serve who only stand and wait,” but such waiting is upon the Lord, not upon a feeling. Even the promise that those who wait upon the Lord will “run and not be weary, walk and not faint” does not say that, after waiting for a time, they’ll feel like they can walk strong and run unwearied.
Does waiting on Him sometimes involve just getting up and walking, without feeling anything? I think it may. It may mean writing toward ideas, setting out to discover, doing the brave and purposeful, and not worrying about the feelings.
Truth is, they that wait to feel something will feel. But not usually the right feeling. Waiting, I feel less motivated, not more motivated. More afraid, not less afraid. In place of only partial inspiration, no inspiration at all.
Another Emily challenges to action, challenges to tell good stories. I’m not sure of the story yet, but there’s more likely to be a story if I stop waiting to be sure.
Mind to action; pen to paper; hands to keyboard. No original thoughts or blinding inspirations, but a story begun. It is good.