It’s been a quiet season. I haven’t been writing much at all. There’s no lack of thought, of wrestling with ideas, or experimenting with words. But nothing seems to come out right. I can’t count how many drafts I’ve abandoned midway. Perhaps whatever is going on inside is just not ready to be visible to the rest of the world yet.
It’s hard not to feel the pressure to keep posting, to keep whatever small audience there may be here “engaged.” Social media reminds me continually how many days have passed since my last post.
But I don’t want to write just to keep an algorithm happy, or even an audience happy.
So I wait. Until I feel like I have something to say again.
It’s been a different season. Even God has seemed quiet. Not absent by any means, but rather strangely silent. And so I have been learning to walk with Him without our usual conversation. I have stopped trying to figure out why this may be. I trust He is leading me, and that one day I shall look back and say, “Ah, now I see.”
There is something taking shape, but its form has yet to be revealed. One day, I hope to put words to it.
For now, God has spoken just enough for my daily bread. He assures me of His presence. He says, “Be still and know that I am God.” It is enough.