these dry bones.

i had the opportunity to visit Training School this Tuesday, and the first question Larry asks is “How/where has Jesus been transformative in your life?”  We were asked to divide into groups and discuss.  I paired up with the two guys closest to me and the last one to share said simply, “He brought life to these dry bones.”  Ok, he said more, but that’s the poetic synopsis.

i’ve really been wrestling with the-meaning-of-life type questions and frustrations lately, and it’s really been something that has clouded my vision and my heart.  but when this guys mentioned dry bones, i couldn’t help but think of all the times in my own journey with Christ that He has rejuvenated me, encouraged me, given me water to satisfy my parched existence.  is that enough, i pleaded silently.  is it enough to say that i do what i do simply because you’ve brought life to my own dry bones?

November is National Novel Writing Month, and with that comes a challenge to write a 50,000 word novel in a month (that translates to 1,667 words/day); i am on my fourth year accepting this challenge.  to say i’ve had writer’s block would be a complete understatement.  i started with an idea, but found that after a couple of days, i hated my story and was avoiding my computer so that i wouldn’t be faced with writing.  after much debate, i scrapped the story.  then i started another one, trying to pull details out of thin air and growing more and more frustrated.

this did not couple well with my already overwhelming frustration concerning the meaning of things.  i began to critcize myself for being good at nothing, not even a stupid challenge that thousands of people have done.

the other day, as i was writing this fictional character’s story, it hit me that maybe i was having such a struggle because i had never really told my story.  this did not excite me, but it has been interesting to see themes emerge and to find that i still feel like breaking during certain scenes.  it’s strange to remember such intense details from events that happened years and years ago, and to realize that they still bind me somehow.

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