I have spent a long time waiting for my thoughts to be “orderly” before I dared to share them. In the world of Church of England discernment, there is a certain pressure to be polished. We are measured by dossiers, criteria, and qualities. We are expected to articulate a “vision.” (of one type or another…)
But my brain doesn’t work in straight lines!
Because of my ADHD and Dyslexia, my internal world often feels like a dozen browser tabs open at once, all playing different songs. For years, I thought that meant I wasn’t ready to lead or that my “call” was too messy to be real. Recently as well as Today!, I’m giving myself permission to stop waiting for the “perfect” version of my story and start writing the true and real version.
The Weight of the “Unwritten”
There is a unique kind of exhaustion that comes from keeping everything inside. When you don’t write it down, your brain has to work overtime to hold onto every doubt, every “God-moment,” and every frustration.
For me, this Substack isn’t about becoming a “writer” in the traditional sense; it’s about creating an external hard drive (of sorts) for my heart, soul and mind.
I’m giving myself permission to know:
Rambling is okay: If the thoughts come out in a jumble, I’ll let them.
Typos are not a sin: My Dyslexia might trip me up, but the heart of the message is what matters.
“Publish” is a choice: Some days, the act of writing is enough. Other days, sharing it might help someone else feel less alone.
A Reality Check for the Soul
I’ve realised that if I don’t record this journey, I’ll forget the patterns. I’ll forget how I felt when I was stuck in “The Wait” between Stage 1 and Stage 2. I’ll forget the small ways God spoke to me in the car or at breakfast.
Journaling is my way of checking my feelings against my expectations. It’s a way of asking: Is this what I thought discernment would be? Do I need to take this to my mentor? Or is God just teaching me to be comfortable in the chaos?
On that note, my very trip into journalling came from one of those moments in the car. Just chatting away, as I do, to God… when suddenly it’s clear as day that he wants me to journal about how I feel that day, what I think it means… and why I think that. He wants me to share this bit of my life, and be open about my journey. He doesn’t care if there are typos, if I say something that is only of use to me, or if what I write is in no real order…
The Ultimate Permission Slip
I keep coming back to Jeremiah 30:2: “This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: ‘Write in a book all the words I have spoken to you.’”
God didn’t tell Jeremiah to wait for an editor. He didn’t tell him to make sure it was academic enough for the authorities. He just said, “Write.” He wanted the record of the conversation.
So, this is me, writing the conversation. It might be messy. It might be a bit of a ramble. But it is honest. And in a process that often feels like an exam, honesty is the most spiritual thing I have to offer.