Why am I afraid to write this? To explore the idea, rather than to shut it out altogether? I felt as if God put this on my heart this past week to pour out my thoughts on this event, but every time I sat down to write all I heard were the accusations, the scolding, the voices of correction, the disapproving frown, and caution pounding into my skull, seeping into my body with a tightening hold, saying that shouldn’t open my mouth on things that are best left unsaid, or I should stick to a certain way of thinking that is outwardly acceptable and doesn’t step on any toes.

It would be an easier thing to tuck away this memory and keep it to myself rather than face the condemnation, whether it is merely a projection of my own negative thoughts, my past, or from others, than to face the onslaught of accusations that want to shred the encouragement I experienced last weekend, but would I giving into fear rather than obeying God if I kept my mouth shut when He has asked me to write stories, share words, even such as this?

Even if I may not fully understand what it is I am seeking, is it not better to explore ideas in the safety of trusted friends and family? Is it not better to explore and understand my beliefs, rather than to stamp down anything that rises from beneath the surface, and then, when others have questions of a similar nature to simply judge them for it, too, with an air of superiority and self-righteousness that doesn’t point to Christ but causes greater division and unrest?

Over the last year, I’ve been going down a road, taking a few turns, that have been leading me to question why I believe certain things, whether I believe them because they were told to me, or whether I believe that is actually what God teaches. I’m not talking about the gospel, about whether Jesus Christ rose from the dead, I believe this, and will forever believe this with all my heart, mind, and soul. These are foundational, core truths to my faith, but I am referring to other areas where I have been strictly taught that going down certain paths will, well, essentially, I’ll be diving off a cliff or making a train wreck of my life.

And to be fair, I have seen people who pursue certain teachings utterly destroy themselves, but can there be a way to explore ideas without the danger of self-destruction? I would like to believe I can work through ideas without completely unraveling the foundations of my mind, even if it makes some uncomfortable, for it is hard to question what you’ve always believed in is from God or from a set of rules that were introduced and you never thought to dig deeper, and that has led me to ask:

Can one hear the voice of God?

As someone who has been told to be wary of anything that is not explicitly written in scripture, this has been a hard thing for me to grapple with. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with that statement, for anything that contradicts the Word should be questioned and evaluated as an error, for God would not oppose Himself. Yet, it seems there are certain circles that, out of fear of how this term, won’t even entertain there might be ways God speaks. Is it possible to receive prompting, nudges, thoughts, spoken outside the written text?

On Sunday morning, the last day of the conference, there was a worship service. It was the first one Realm Makers had ever hosted in the 13 years they had been running. The directors talked about how it never felt like there was a place for a worship service until that year, as they had not wanted to stir division, followed by a couple of cracked jokes about the church carpets and drums. By the laughter that followed, it is a common thing that Christians have fought over. And though I was amused, part of me felt grieved for the church in North America. There are so many things that have caused strife among believers that are not even central to the gospel, and we wonder why some criticize the church.

As the song portion of the service ended, a man came up onto the stage to pray before the main speaker delivered the Sunday message. I closed my eyes. It didn’t feel different from any other prayer, but in the middle of it, it was like his words faded out, not because I hadn’t been paying attention; I very much had been. The room shifted, and my world kind of shrank in on itself. A very clear thought, as if it weren’t even my own, came across my mind.

“I will take care of you.”

It was a gentle voice. Different from the constant negative hounding that often followed me. A sense of comfort washed over me, and I took a breath. Was that just… my own thought? Slowly, the room came back into focus, tuning back into the prayer, and I realized the man was saying that if there were any struggles, anything that was lying on our hearts that we would lift that up to God in prayer, and that in return, we would receive what God wanted us to know

Was it a coincidence that I will take care of you came to my mind at this moment when the prayer was about giving our struggles to God and receiving what He has to say?

As someone who has literally stressed about provision since my college years, whether that was living situations, future ventures, or even receiving help when I’m in need, hearing that was a reminder that I wasn’t alone in the direction I have been working toward. It wasn’t just a random phrase. I had been carrying a burden on my shoulder that I didn’t realize was there, and it was a loving reminder that I had a Father in Heaven who had provided for me in the past, and He was going to do so again in my next stage of life.

Well, duh. It’s not like that’s an extra-biblical revelation if that perfectly aligns with scripture. It’s not like that’s anything special you heard.

Except, it was.

It came when I needed it. Do you know how hard it is to live with a constant voice that condemns all the time, that wants to cast doubt at every turn, that literally wants to tell you not to believe the things in the Bible when things get hard? But my mind felt open to hearing God’s Word, and the Holy Spirit used that moment to bring a vivid remembrance of who He was and what He is doing amidst uncertainty. How often, even though we have scripture, we fret about our struggles. We talk about trust all the time, but we’re not very good at it.

Okay, well, that’s not exactly outside of scripture, the “voice” is it?

Fair enough. Another story, then?

Earlier this week, after being challenged by a believer to pray specifically about what God is asking me to do with my writing, I felt a strong prompting that this blog post needed to be written, even if it was only for a handful who would read it. So I would do it.

Yet, when I got through the first draft of this post a few days ago, I sensed as if God were saying that this wasn’t the version He was asking for, and deep down, I knew He was right. I was holding back in my writing, trying to politely tailor my words to make it appeasing to all audiences, telling the story in the least controversial way possible. That wasn’t authentic.

So then I started again, and a series of things happened. The encouragement I had been filled with from the conference left as I was attacked with negative thoughts, doubts, and fears, crushing my confidence that being a storyteller and writer was what God called me to be. It was a back-and-forth battle between “Is this really what God wants me to do, or am I just making this up in my head?” and beginning to question whether I should even write the post at all.

But I knew how strongly I had felt about it and that I couldn’t continue to operate out of fear.

Yesterday, the intensity peaked. An unusual pressure in my chest from fear grew. It made no sense. It worsened as I was around friends, as if the emotions didn’t want me to speak about the joys I had found at the conference, about the joys I was discovering with my faith, my passion for writing, and God.

It wasn’t until I went home later that night and called a close friend that I broke down over the phone saying I was so sick of being ruled by fear, that it was not only holding me back from writing, but holding me back from speaking to friends, and fulfilling the role God was placing in my life. So she prayed with me. Read scripture with me. For over an hour. As she was praying words of encouragement over my life, I could feel the negative voices ramping up nasty words; it almost felt like they weren’t even of myself, as if they would not let me go.

At the height of the spiritual battle, a negative thought spoke, trying to drown out the words my friend was giving. Just give up.

Whoa, whoa, whooooaaa.

Says who? That sounded like remnants of the deep darkness I had walked through months ago, and sometimes still dip into. That wasn’t from God. It reeked of hopelessness, of life having no meaning, and I had to fight it, and God had given me a friend to fight them with. She continued to speak words of truth and life until the lies were silenced. By the end of the conversation, I felt so exhausted and drained as if I had gone to war. I was unable to write anything that night, but the words of darkness were no longer there.

And here I am, a day after. This morning, the negative thoughts tried to return, but I didn’t let them, and later I sat down to finish this post. It still wasn’t easy, but I’m tired of hiding and pretending. I want to be done with that. Whether or not God prompted me to write this blog post, I’m writing it because it is a good thing. I’m looking forward to seeing where God takes me in this adventure and praying that He will help me through the voices that want to deter me from stepping into a role He’s leading me toward. If it isn’t in contradiction to His character and His Word, then who am I to ignore promptings and thoughts from the Lord?

The room was filled with at least 400 people, maybe more. Round tables were covered with white cloths and there were more forks than I knew what to do with, a couple of spoons, and some dishes already set. When I saw on the schedule that there would be a semi-formal dinner, I hadn’t known I’d get this treat! It was Friday evening when those who cosplayed as Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, or really, anything, would walk across the stage and be judged on their outfits. I joined one of the tables along with the other attendees who would happily view the contest.

As the room filled, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a young woman in a red dress weaving through the crowd and tables. She looked familiar. Was she someone from a workshop I had attended several years ago? There wasn’t time to go up and check as the costume parade across the stage began, and the meal followed afterwards

As the evening came to an end, bellies full with delicious food, everyone cheered with the fun conversations of being in a room with writers and creatives, people started to leave. I wasn’t going anywhere quite yet. I rose and made a beeline for where I had seen the young woman in the red dress. As I drew closer, a smile broadened across my face.

“Catherine?” I walked up behind her.

She turned around, with a delightful smile lighting up her face. “I thought I saw you earlier!”

Happy to see each other, we embraced. It was so good to see a familiar face in the sea of strangers, but also wonderful to find a friend I hadn’t seen in years.

The next day, on Saturday afternoon, I browsed the schedule to see which session I was going to next. I had missed Part A earlier that day wasn’t sure which Part B session I should attend. Was there something that would benefit me most? A practice I’d been making more of a habit of, even in the smaller things, I decided to pray, asking if there was a particular one that I should go to. No, I didn’t get any magical revelation. No prompting. Nothing stood out. That’s okay. I glanced over the schedule again before closing it and went into the Expo Hall (as where most went in between sessions, cause look at all the shiny things). I walked through the booths and ended up bumping into Catherine. She was about to head to one of the sessions and said I could join her if I wanted. The one she picked hadn’t been inclined to go to, but I decided, sure. Let’s go with a friend.

As we entered the class, we sat down and pulled out our notebooks. Only five minutes into the session, the speaker pulled up a slide about perfectionism vs. high achievers. Oh, boy. I knew I was meant to be here. I was all too familiar with the ways of perfectionism. Yet, as she drew comparisons between the two, every click of the slide revealing more about the traits of both, it made me realize how unhealthy perfectionism was, and it went deeper than I wanted to admit.

Both Catherine and I scribbled down notes the entire class, shooting each other glances every so often, sometimes groaning, as the points struck us. As the speaker taught, she even drew several examples of what perfectionism was from her personal stories and how it harms us as individuals, and how writers can be susceptible to this slippery slope. I am thankful Catherine invited me to join the session with her as they were words I needed to hear.

Sometime later, or maybe this was before, everything about the conference kind of blurs together at some point, Catherine asked. “Did you know Mr. S is here?”

Mr. S!!!

He was here, at Realm Makers?

“Where?”

I was thrilled to hear!

Though I looked for him that Saturday, I found no trace of where he was.

And yes, he is Mr. S. It’s not because I’m shortening the name for anonymity, but because that is how he is known to his students at One Year Adventure Novel, both Catherine and I had been a part of. He’s just Mr. S to all of us, even years later. He is someone I consider to be one of my first writing mentors, as he taught me how to write a novel in one year as a teen. His ongoing dedication to show youth how to craft stories is amazing (though he’s too humble to talk about himself), and creating a space where young Christian writers can have a community both in person and online to learn. It was back in 2011 that I attended one of the summer workshops, one of my first writing events, and they are still memories I cherish as I befriended writers, joined my first critique groups, and felt filled with a passion for storytelling. So, yes, of course I wanted to find Mr. S, who helped me take the first steps into becoming the writer that I am today.

Sunday morning, after the worship service (might just have to write a blog post about that, too), I went to find Catherine. At this point, I knew where she would likely be located because there was a booth she hung out at. (Am I a stalker now?). I wasn’t at the table long when bagpipes went off. Who in the world was playing bagpipes in the Expo hall? A group of us searched through the Expo, trying to find the one who was playing, but they disappeared. Well, that was short-lived. I hoped they come back. They didn’t.

As we gave up the search, Catherine asked, “Have you seen Mr. S yet?”

No, I hadn’t. I had been looking since she had mentioned it the day before, but hadn’t seen any sign of him.

She pointed, “He’s over there in the red shirt.”

I looked over. Sure enough, he was.

Excited, I hurried over, Catherine coming with. I think I interrupted his browsing, but when he saw me, it felt like meeting an old friend. We hugged, and we talked about OYAN. Catherine and I reminisced about our first OYAN workshops experience, but we also just talked about life, how things were, about hardships over the last few years, and it meant a lot to me that they shared their stories. Really, it did.

It was a real blessing to be able to catch up with friends I hadn’t thought would be at Realm Makers. I don’t know if they’ll come across this post, but seeing both of them this past weekend was a balm to my soul. When you meet people who have a love for the Lord, and just a love for people, you can really tell.

For some reason, the handful of deep interactions I had at this conference and how people just listened with care made me ponder. Are we not but pale reflections of a Creator, of Jesus? Yet these few interactions uplifted my heart so much. If these are but reflections, then I should wonder how much more caring and compassionate a perfect God in heaven is? It’s a concept that I struggle with from time to time as God just feels so distant, but He’s not. He’s closer to you than even your closest friend. If these were just fractions of goodness, how much more is God? I thank God He allowed me to reconnect with old friends and that I was able to lean into knowing Him a little better than before. My faith journey hasn’t been an easy one. Though I have been a Christian for a long time, God has been showing me over the past couple of years that I have some disconnect with my relationship with Him, and He’s been healing that through many different things, and I am thankful for it.