Several years ago, I jumped on the word-of-the-year bandwagon. Any fellow passengers? My 2021 choices are “faithful” and “undaunted.” A decision I wholeheartedly regretted by about mid-January. Honestly, why do we do that? It’s not like cozy and fluffy are taken.
Well, because when we pursue our calling to write, we know it won’t be easy. We know we’ll need purpose-filled resilience. Even so, it doesn’t prevent the sting of rejection or failed expectations.
It seems the more excitement I harbor over a project, the harder I fall when crickets reverberate. To my friends, family, and followers, I’m confidently sharing with assurance. In my mind’s eye, I’m standing alone with a cardboard sign while everyone drives past.
I know faithfulness is not measured in feedback, but my logical side says how can I truly be a writer without a reader? My defensive side wants to cry out in frustration: “Why am I even doing this? Does anyone care at all?”
Such was last week’s post—one I felt genuinely good about (a rarity for us braving the public with our dreams and heart wrapped in one post). But when the familiar silence met me, the old cycle began.
Our life group has been studying Joshua, and last week we dove into chapter 9 when the Gibeonites deceive Israel’s leaders. By this point, Joshua has already defeated Jericho and the people of Ai. Word is spreading to the neighboring people, and they are terrified.
Knowing the imminent danger, the Gibeonites approach the Israelites and lie they had not come from an enemy land but from one far away— one distant and more inconsequential. Believing their convincing moldy bread and tattered clothes, Joshua makes a peace treaty with them guaranteeing their safety with a binding oath.
Once the Israelites realize the truth, they cannot go back on this oath, so they make the Gibeonites woodcutters and water carriers for the entire community in service to the Lord. And scripture says, “And that is what they do to this day.” But when asked why they did it, they reply:
“We did it because we—your servants—were clearly told that the Lord your God commanded his servant Moses to give you this entire land and to destroy all the people living in it. So we feared greatly for our lives because of you. That is why we have done this.”
The absconding with one’s life makes perfect sense, but why not actually run to a distant land? Why not escape to live peaceably away from fear?
Then truth sank into my heart—a reminder I needed desperately in that moment and many more to come. It’s better to be a woodcutter for the Lord than to be a king in a foreign land. Better to be an unseen servant in faithful obedience than to be recognizably successful elsewhere. For this reason, I will continue to move in faithfulness, undaunted by the road and the response. I will be glad to be a woodcutter.
Comments