This is Why I Type

I can't count the times that I have opened up the "Create New Post" page in this blog and just sat there typing. Paragraphs come and go, and most of them never make it to the actual blog. Whether I publish a post or not, I love to type and write my thoughts. Several folders on my computer include Word documents that are gorged with incomplete sentences, questions, thoughts, and rants of frustration. There is something about jotting down what's in my head, despite the difficulty in decoding what's really going on up there, that helps me to process what I have learned. Although there is a lot of value for myself in typing and thinking, I hope that it stretches beyond that. Sifting through my experience teaches me a lot, but what really keeps me typing is the idea that it may mean something to someone else.

As a follower of Christ, I believe there is no experience that is meant just for an individual. Why else would Christ always remind us of loving others? Granted, some events in life directly benefit myself and no one else around me. But, indirectly, if experience and trials occur in order to grow and mature us, then they allow interaction with others that build the kingdom of God more effectively. I don't pretend to ignore or discount the comments people make on the blog here and general comments that suggest what I have to say actually means something to others. Those comments encourage me and give me reason to keep typing. This is why I type. Because I know it means something.

However, as I desire to say something that makes a difference, frequently I realize that words flow and lines fill with phrases and sentences that don’t carry much meaning. Many times I open my mouth to speak and have absolutely nothing to articulate. And for a person who loves to talk and type, studies human communication, and writes endlessly about it, it is humbling to consider my utter inability at times to actually communicate. I don’t know if what follows here will bear the meaning I intend, but it is all I can muster. It is all that comes off these fingers.

Lately, I have been examining passages in Scripture that talk about confession, healing, and restoration with God. Passages like James 5:13-16 that tell us confession leads to healing. And Isaiah 6:1:8 that iterates seeing the Lord for who he is shines light on who we are and reveals our total ruin. The end is restoration to who we were created to be. The paths I have recently traversed all lead to this same conclusion. Confession is necessary for healing, and healing is necessary for restoration.

Confession…

Healing…

Restoration…

I need restoration. The katartizō restoration found in 1 Peter 5:10 that puts things back in order, the restoration that mends what is broken, and makes complete the things unfinished. I need healing—Iaomai healing that brings freedom. I need to confess. The Exmologeō confession from Acts 19:18 that openly admits wrong. Every destination has its journey; every end has its means. Here is how to arrive: Confession. Healing. Restoration.

I confess…

I don’t have it all together, but I act like I do. I struggle, but say all is well. I hurt, and fight to hide the pain. I yearn to teach, but can’t stand being taught. I say I’m not greedy, but I can’t let go of what’s not mine to begin with. I say, “Everything will be fine,” but don’t believe it. I refute that I covet, but want to have what others do. I say I can handle it alone and deny my need for God.

There is so much more to say, I confess.

This message may be from me and directly for me. But maybe somewhere in there is something for you. My experience is not meant just for me. So I share it with you.

I want you to know me. I want me to know me. I want to be real, transparent, and open—with myself, with you, and with others. God, I confess, I need to be healed. I want to be restored. Mend what is broken, put things back in order, and make complete this shattered soul.

This is why I type tonight. For you, Lord.