I’ve been working hard. Putting my nose to the grindstone, I’ve been putting in hours, getting done what I know needs to be done. With a priority list of first, second, and third tasks, I’ve always just doggedly worked away.

Always. For years now.

And years.

I like work. Love my work in fact.

Love the people and the writing and the speaking and the preparing. Love the social media end of things, meeting others from around the globe, encouraging and pouring in strength. I love prayer and preaching, love speaking the heart of God, prayer ministry and coaching. Love all of it.

Today though, I came to the end of my running to-do list.

• Website refreshed. Check
• Other website built. Check
• Advance engine figured out. Check
• Event I was speaking at. Done and Check
• Prayer Meeting this week. Check
• Blog Written. Check
• Grandson babysat. Check
• Daughters hung out with. Check
• Curtains hemmed. Check
• Dishes done. Check
• House organized and tidy. Check
• Deck winterized and ready for rain. Check
• Emails caught up. Check
• Inquiry emails out. Check
• Next weeks schedule confirmed. Check
• Items delegated out. Check
• Check, Check, and Check.

And all of a sudden I am alone in my house. The only sound as I write this, is the dryer rattling round and round. I’ve the rest of the day by myself, with nothing pressing upon me. I can hardly remember the last time I was face to face with quiet and time and nothing to do.

It is in this space that I hear the Spirit beckoning me. A soft whisper in my heart, the voice of God impressing upon me, to come and ‘lets do some writing’… and my heart responds with trepidation.

Now, I have been walking with God for over 40 years. I know the heart and the voice of God, and I have given my life over to the kingdom of God on this earth, and however that might play out in eternity.

But today, right now, I am afraid. Not afraid afraid, but rather an avoiding kind of afraid. For this invitation to enter into the writing at hand (a book I’ve been working on), is a scary kind of thing.

I’ve realized lately that I have always shrunk back from the most important work. I’ve shrunk back from the miracles and from the places where glory supersedes and surrounds.

This invitation to write feels to me that I am being invited into the grand hall of The King. That the beauty there will be so overwhelming that I’ll simply have to fall to my knees, that the presence of the King will consume me, and there will be no recourse but to quake and be rendered speechless.

Yet in this place, are the miracles. In this place are the great works of art. This place holds the glory of God come to mankind.

How long have I been avoiding this work. The real work. How long have I been playing it safe; playing at work that matters, doing the relatively easy work, the work that looks great but doesn’t really take much from me.

There is a whole core of my understanding of God that has never been expressed. This is the work I am being called to today. And like a squirmy worm on a hook, I would rather do any other seemingly great thing than to go and write words and pages that enter me into this profoundly deep presence of God.

I imagine the crazy artistry of Beethoven or Bach as they pounded away on their pianos and over their music script. That is what working on this book feels to me. Like heading into a cave where everything else falls aside, except me and the Lord.

It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And all I’ve ever truly been afraid of.