First, let me explain.

My husband gives me grief for wanting to blog. Mostly because of the name. “What a horrible name,” he says. “Blog. It sounds more like a swamp creature than an online whatever-it-is.”
I imagine it residing somewhere like this:
His description isn’t far off, truly. This being my third foray into blogging, I can tell you firsthand that it can be a beast. A life-sucking, miserable, slimy beast. If you let it.

With that in mind…

The obvious question is why I would ever venture back into something that I have at any point in time described as “life-sucking.” Well, I’m sure we can all point to comparable activities that we aren’t ready to give up despite a lurking disdain for them (social media, anyone?). But regardless, I do have a point here.
Surely everyone reading this can identify with that nagging sense of searching that seems to plague our young (and very American, i.e. privileged) years. You know the feeling…the one that emerged and began to grow during childhood every time an adult asked that ubiquitous question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?
Searching, always searching. That described my youth to a T. What do I want to BE? And the answer I ended up with, as I sit precariously on the edge of 30, is this: I want to be what I was made to be.
Right, I know…skirting the issue.

But, seriously. That’s it.

I want to be what I was made to be. And what I was made it be is a a creature who praises her Creator, whose very existence glorifies and exalts the One who brought me into being. In my current circumstances, that praise manifests itself in a number of ways – in the raising of my children, in my marriage, in my friendships, in my service to others, in the way I spend my money and my time, and in the way I use my talents and gifts.

I’m a writer, you guys. I can’t help it. I’m a talker, and I’m a writer. I long to “fill {my} paper with the breathings of {my} heart,” as Mr. Wordsworth so beautifully expressed it. A desire to write, or more specifically a desire to compose and communicate, is ingrained into the fibers of my being, put there by a Creator who weaves beauty into the universe.
So here I am, beginning a third attempt at blogging, seeking to obey my Father by writing when He has told me to write. And yet, how will I avoid the beast this time? What will the difference be? This time I am entering into this with my hope and trust placed fully in God – an approach I certainly did not take previously.

I simply seek to serve.

I have few surprisingly few expectations for this blog, few desires other than for it to become a platform for Truth and an avenue for the world to experience the glory of Christ through the work He has done in me. As Peter admonished the exiles, may I use my gifts to serve others, as a good steward of God’s varied grace…in order that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ (1 Peter 4:10, paraphrasing mine). That’s my point, right there.

“As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace”    1 Peter 4:10

I imagine I’ve lost a few of you now, but it doesn’t worry me because if anything I write here truly needs to be read, you’ll find it. If that is the case, I urge you to stick with me as I share the love and mercy and grace I have experienced and am experiencing through Christ. I’m merely a creature doing what I was made to do, and my Creator will take care of all the rest.

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