If you’re not impressed with the ways of this world, you’re in good company. Neither is God. 

Yes, today’s title sounds a bit Yoda-like. It came from advice I offered a writer friend struggling with her longing to create in a season where she has little energy, time, or focus.

When a person, pet, or job that once filled your day with purpose and meaning is suddenly gone, there is a major void. It changes things around—and within— us.  

The best way to be proactive is to stop reacting to the reactions of others. 

I love capturing ideas whenever and wherever they occur—and the best container for doing so is what I call the “self-destructing” journal.  

We’ve all had moments where we run out of patience, ideas, time or money. But more and more, I’m running out of words.

Dear World,  

You’ve done your best these past few years to derail our God-given creativity. You sought to infuse us with fear and pit us against each other. You distracted us with busyness. You threw chaos our way, hoping we’d set our creativity aside until things calmed down, knowing that time would never come. 

These readings regularly touch on the beauty and power of our God-given creativity. But there’s an aspect of it that deserves more attention—creative exhaustion. 

When God gives us a glimpse of the impossible, we often stumble by waiting for others to give us the green light. 

If your life were a movie, how would you describe this particular part of the story?  

Writers and artists often reference the voices in their heads when describing the creative process. 

You have a way of seeing the world unlike anyone else. It reflects the unique gifting, interests, and creativity that God knit into you before you were born. 

How is your creativity relevant to this particular moment in time? 

Humanity often uses the phrase “necessary evil” to rationalize the need for horrific acts required to achieve what they deem a greater good.  

God has a sense of humor far superior to your favorite comedian. That shouldn’t surprise you. God invented laughter.  

It’s impossible to get through the day without being bombarded with the accelerating trauma of this fallen world. We encounter it with those we know and love as well as on the news and social media. 

The less real something is, the more we tend to be drawn to it.  

The ability to say just enough and no more is a learned art—whether in conversation with another, a prayer to God, or in your creative writing. 

A friend recently made the comment that believers have been moved to the fringes of culture. But he has it backwards. Culture’s the one who moved, not believers. 

Believers are more hard-pressed than ever. Not just in a few areas, but on every front.