I came back from my trip to The Netherlands and Mexico with more than just photos, impressions and jetlag. I came back with a renewed desire to write. This might have been birthed at the OMS vow I took in Rotterdam (creativity being one of the 6 practices of the order). Or it might have been birthed earlier as I prepared my workshop for LittWorld. As I got ready to inspire others in a workshop on creativity and calling, it didn’t escape me that the one who most needed to hear and apply the message was me! The truth was I hadn’t written for months and my creative well was bone dry.

The seeds may have been planted at OMS and my workshop but my renewed desire to write blossomed fully at an early morning devotional at LittWorld. In the midst of a full programme of plenary sessions, elective workshops and one-on-one consultations, it’s surprising that for me the most meaningful moment of LittWorld was a short reflection on Mark 14:3-9 by Tyndale’s Jeremy Taylor.

This is the story of Mary breaking open an expensive jar of perfume and pouring it onto Jesus’ head as the disciples look on disapprovingly. Jeremy likened writing (or any other vocation) to an act of worship that shares three traits with what Mary did.

  • Both worship and writing are acts of extravagance.
  • Both worship and writing make us vulnerable.
  • Both worship and writing can lead to us being misunderstood.

Jeremy’s words went straight to my heart.

“When you write you’re pouring yourself out and it will cost you. But pour yourself out anyway.”

Pour yourself out anyway.

Why had I stopped doing this, I asked myself, when writing is the truest part of me? The thing that brings me the most joy? The moments I sense a glimpse of God’s smile?

The answer is that I had taken my eyes off Jesus and was looking at the disapproving onlookers. Sharing writing—with readers, literary agents and publishers—is truly an act of vulnerability. Sometimes you face indifference (any writer who has tried to sell a manuscript will experience the stony silence of the unanswered email) but more often than not you face criticism. Two days after hearing Jeremy’s devotional, I opened an email from a publisher who gave me a searing and rather personal critique of my latest manuscript (maybe stony silence is underrated). Ah, I told myself after I had a good cry, this is the misunderstanding part of worship and writing.

Pour yourself out anyway.

“Never be afraid to be extravagant or vulnerable or misunderstood,” Jeremy told us. “Your human readers are not your primary audience—God is. And he will not misunderstand you.”

That’s when I knew I needed to get back to writing. Not to get comments and likes and publishing contracts (those would be nice too, thank you very much). But because the act of writing is the deepest way I know to express my heart to God. And because, like Mary, I want to see the love and approval in Jesus’ eyes as he says, “Leave her alone. Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me” (Mark 14:6).

Friend, where have you stopped pouring yourself out in your worship or vocation? Where have you taken your eyes off the only one who truly matters and begun to listen to and believe the harsh voices around you?

Don’t be afraid to be extravagant in showing devotion to Christ.

Pour yourself out anyway!