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Brenda Bradford Ottinger

Encouraging Women to Live Rooted in the Sacred

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Future Ink

I’ll take “vulnerably candid” for a hundred please, Alex.

Oh, and, hey, throw in “Cryptic Introductions” for two hundred, while you’re at it. 😉

We all have our “things”. The things that speak to us on some innate, organic level. The things that have no choice but to be our things, because we couldn’t un-thing them if we tried.

Writing—it’s my thing. It chose me. It excites me. Not because I enjoy looking up which form of “affect” or “effect” to use, every blessed time I need to use one of them. Definitely not because my middle-aged brain relishes the daily (minutely?) begging of everyday words to come out and play; seems they stubbornly prefer the comfy spot right there on the tip of my tongue. Writing excites me because the One who snuggled it deep within my marrow, created me for it, and it for me. At least, in part.

These “things”, otherwise known as passions, enliven us because our Creator summoned them to spring from the essence of who we are—and when used as He intended, they point right back to Him.

So, shouldn’t something, born of God’s hand like this, flow with the graceful ease of a wind-caught snowflake? Therein lies my frustration. This frustration is not due to a lack of ideas. Ideas abound. Lately, my struggle is in fleshing out these ideas into coherent, lovely little 800-words-or-less articles. They’re screaming to be written, to make a difference, to point back to Him—yet trapped. Trapped inside the mazed never-land of my mind where they can check in, but they can’t check out.Future Ink

It’s tempting to call these moments “writer’s block”, and yeah, there’s probably some truth in that. Thing is, though, that term seems to negate the fact that the ultimate purpose of our heaven-born passions is to glorify Him.

So, perhaps what I’m suffering from is patience-block. I want words to pour onto the page yesterday. He wants them to make a difference tomorrow. He’s going ahead of me, and doing exciting things, things rooted in the eternal. There’s no doubt in my mind that He’s very active in my inactivity.

Every word that He’ll ever call me to write…He’s already written. In future ink.

To sense His presence, His involvement, but to have it unwitnessed by human understanding…confounds me, yet calms me. And, with this whispered reminder, this divine wink—He re-centers me.

Whether I scribble out something once a month, or once a week, or once a day—it matters not. What matters is that this passion that He’s embedded in me, is returned to Him…returned with interest, I pray.

Such a blessing our spirits hold – to be a part of God at work. Whatever our callings, whatever Kingdom purposes He has for us—to somehow play any small part in the richness, the fullness of His plan—is so very worth the honor of the wait.  Chasing Holiness

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Comments

  1. Rosanne says

    February 20, 2015 at 11:44 pm

    I love this idea – future ink. I will have to remember this the next time the words seem stuck and won’t flow. 🙂 What a comforting thought to know that God already knows everything I will ever write.

    Reply
  2. Julie @ Logger's Wife says

    February 21, 2015 at 8:16 am

    I really like this view if “writer’s block.” I’m going to have remember it the next time I get stuck.

    Reply

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Never can there be too many magnolia pictures. . S Never can there be too many magnolia pictures.
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Says the lens of my eyes; of my soul.
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(“Not so,” says my iphone storage, but that’s a tomorrow problem.)
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Every time I leave my house, I can’t not stop, not stare, not take another jillion pictures.
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This magnolia tree of mine, she keeps a record of time, reaching farther into the sky with each passing year.
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In all her southern glory, she lifts leaves and limbs toward heaven, pointing to the One on whom all glory rests.
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Boldly, yet elegantly, she speaks of a Creator who, year upon year, grows lovely things under the banner of His care in the lives of His own.
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Even in times when life doesn’t feel full of lovely, may we listen to the magnolia’s anthem.
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She doesn’t question the winter, knowing full well that her Maker has yet to deny spring its beauty.
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I wonder how breathtaking magnolias must be in the City of God. ✨
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“Not to us, O, LORD, not to us, but to Your name goes all the glory for Your unfailing love and faithfulness.” Psalm 115:1 💕
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The May calendar has a way of turning our thoughts The May calendar has a way of turning our thoughts toward home, doesn’t it?
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Perhaps, for you, that’s a beloved Home State where the soil smells like childhood and dreams.
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Or, maybe the humble shelter of your youth, where boo-boos were kissed & fairytales carried you into dreamland.
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Perhaps you’re like me, and yesteryear’s home holds heartache and rejection, insecurity and confusion.
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Far too much of my past I spent chasing roots, not sensing an inheritance of belonging within the halls of my kin.
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Layer by broken layer, though, the Lord is healing me from within, showing me that…
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What our hearts long for can’t be satisfied with what our lives long for.
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The temporal can’t pacify the eternal.
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We’re so prone to searching for home in containers not meant to carry its calling—whether in place or people, title or position, acceptance or belonging—that we seek to satisfy its longing with lesser things.
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Having a sense of home within our circles is beautiful and sacred, but—it’s a shallow substitute for the inheritance we have in God.
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No place, no person, no position—no earthly brand of belonging—can ever claim home to your soul like the Haven of Him.
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Quiet your spirit in the shadow of His covering, dear friend, for never will He stop calling you His own. 💕
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Dear friend, do you feel like you’re etching a p Dear friend, do you feel like you’re etching a prayer into the ear of God, day upon year upon decade?
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You’re asking “why,” and “when, O Lord,” yet the situation your heart plays on repeat at the altar of God, remains seemingly unchanged.
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Oh, friend, I understand; me too.
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Sometimes those miracles we’re waiting for, they come at the expense of years of prayer.
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Not because God is cruel, but because God is thorough. He phones nothing in; takes no shortcuts with our hearts.
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The life-mending, soul-touching, supernatural work of God takes time to witness from our perspective.
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Oh, but take heart, dear friend, for God hears the cries of your heart.
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That outcome you’re praying for? Your God is already there, working out the details ahead of you.
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Even when it feels like you’re crying yet one more prayer into the silence, He hears and is moving ahead of you in ways you can’t even imagine right now.
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Hang on, my friend; keep praying, for those prayers are a worthy sacrifice to the only God who is altogether able. 🙌💕
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I wonder, friend, do the demands of life leave you I wonder, friend, do the demands of life leave you feeling downright weary at times?
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If so, I understand. Me too.
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Oh, that our souls would rest in remembering that Jesus also knew what it was to feel weary as He walked this earth in human flesh.
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You are not alone.
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This one’s for the weary. 💗
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Head over to Proverbs31ministries.org. to read & join the conversation! 💕
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