“All this,” said David, “the Lord made me understand in writing by His hand upon me, all the work and details [to be done] according to this plan.” 1 Chronicles 28:19 AMP
The reality was quite the opposite. I have a bad knee, and kneeling is painful. My brain is never calm or orderly and remembering all the people and things I wanted to pray for was impossible. I felt like a failure, unable to pray for others as they prayed for me. Neither able to communicate with Jesus, nor find the peace that I was told I would find in prayer.
On my 40th birthday, I was given a beautiful journal as a gift. I wasn't new to journaling, but in the past, as I wrote out my most profound thoughts and fears I often destroyed them for fear that someone in my life would read them and use the contents of the journal to hurt me. There was too much ammunition in those books for the abusive people I'd had in my life, but my life had changed. I was single, had good friends, and there was nobody to invade my privacy. I could once again unburden my thoughts on paper.
I embraced that beautiful new journal and poured all my pain and hope into it. Detailing my new-found faith, my struggle to find my place in the world and in God's Kingdom. I wrote with passion and in turn, found healing.
As the years progressed, I found I was writing less to myself and more as a letter to someone else. I was painting a picture of my story, speaking for myself and others and my hope for our lives. Posing questions and asking for guidance. I was talking to God.
I had not made a conscious decision to start a relationship with God on paper, but once I realized I had done it, I consciously made the decision to write down my prayers and maintain my conversations in this medium. One that allowed me to stop thinking long enough to start communicating.
The focus of writing gave release to beautiful words of hope, despair and my victories with Jesus. To a thankfulness of the life I was given and the daily miracles that I encountered: a private joke and the laughter I shared with my new husband; the tiny, injured bird I found in the snow that would go on to live; and an early morning sunrise which brought peace and the hope of a new day.
I discovered that writing calms my brain, orders my thoughts and gives birth to God's direction. In my own hand, I could find Him, speaking to me with love and a purpose for my life. I found solace and understanding for my failings.
Through writing, I found my relationship with God -- a deep love that is given and a greater love that is received.
Michelle M. Brown was born and raised in British Columbia, Canada. She has a background in Marketing & Design. An avid hiker and adventure junkie she has embarked on a journey to conquer 50 adventurous activities in her 50th year.