I am completely aware that it has been a very sparse blogging season for me. Not a day has passed during the past few months that I have not looked at my ipad and felt the weight of the lack of writing. My fingers have longed to type. But my heart has said no.
Sometimes, as God works on our hearts, it forces us to retreat, circle up the wagons, put our heads down and lean in to what He’s doing in a very private way. Sometimes, the real stuff of our lives is just too deep for words. Sometimes, we can’t even explain to ourselves what’s going on, much less try to put it into words for someone else to read.
I’ve had topic after topic simmering in my heart to write about. Headlines spark them. A passing phrase heard in conversation sparks them. A Scripture read in a moment of desparation sparks them. They are piling up, waiting to be written. But my heart has said no.
I’ve been in a season of waiting, a season of winter. Growth is happening, deep under the surface where it can’t always be seen from the outside. I’ve experienced a strange and heart-wrenching mixture of euphoric highs and agonizing lows that simply require more silence than speech. More processing and less proclaiming.
Even though the thermometer and calendar tell us that the physical winter is just beginning, the season of winter for my writing seems to be slowly giving way to tiny sprouts of green, signs of new life.
I sense that the season of quiet is finally starting to give way to more freedom to share. Over the last few months, last two years really, God has had His scalpel in my soul in a very concentrated, painful way, pinpointing idols and wrong beliefs and stubborn sinfulness and scraping away at them. He has been relentless, forcing me to return to the same hidden corners over and over until I finally start to see a glimpse of what He’s wanting me to understand about Him and about myself. It’s been enlightening and excruciating and sweet. But, for the most part, it has involved those groanings that are too deep for words.
I sense, however, that I will have more freedom to write in the coming days, to share with you at least vaguely some of the lessons He’s been teaching me. My heart is stirring again. The compulsion to write is not just in my fingers anymore, it’s quickening in my heart again. I pray that I will be slow to speak, though. Not too quick to proclaim “Lesson learned,” check it off the list, and move on. Even as I start to try to put some of my full heart into words, may I be cautious, careful, and open to further exploration and further listening throughout this season and all of those to come.
I don’t know if any of this makes much sense to you. I just know that I wanted to share just a bit of an explanation of why it’s been quiet here. Spring is coming. Aslan is on the move. He has been the whole time; much has happened during this winter time in my heart. New growth is peeking through the snow. It’s fragile, it’s still very delicate and vulnerable, but it’s there. I am so grateful for a Vine that continues to nourish my soul throughout the winter.