I have noticed throughout the past several months the lengths to which many go to appear gifted without actually cultivating the gift.
I am a writer.
I have wrestled with the written word for decades.
Words have been my delight.
My medium.
My consolation.
I write the way I breathe.
I write to chronicle life.
I write to navigate life.
I write simply to make sense of life.
Believe me, I understand the temptation to do it quickly.
Programs exist, now, that can spit out polished posts in seconds. Just plug in an idea or two and they do the rest.
It’s all the rage for clicks and expediency.
But at what cost?
One of the things I have loved most through my years of writing and composing, is the collaborative process with the Lord.
What He is after is not just pretty words, but 𝐻𝑖𝑠 words, and a yielded heart through which He can speak.
What He requires is a faithful steward, not a phony one.
Faithfulness often looks like a blinking cursor and a blank page. Hours spent before the keyboard, searching for just the right word, not merely one that comes easily.
None of that toil is wasted, by the way.
In fact, much of the hidden labor is where the gift itself is formed. As a writer, God is shaping me long before anyone reads my words.
I am not a content creator. I don’t want that title. I am a writer, far more concerned with bearing witness to the myriad ways God works, than the platform that beckons so seductively.
If the words I share don’t first pass through my own mind, heart, prayers, doubts, and repentance, then what is it that I am really offering?
I can give readers words. I may even impress them. But, at the end of the day, I have not served them, if I did not seek God for what He wanted them to know and learn.
When we allow a machine to do the heavy lifting, healing is delayed because the remedy originates with God and God alone.
Scripture is clear that those who would influence others must first be people of character. It is not ability alone that matters.
If there is influence to be wielded, it must first be birthed from a heart of integrity.
God watches to see how faithfully we handle the works He entrusts to us. They are formed in hiding.
In seeking.
In solitude.
The work always precedes the platform. It’s the only kind that counts for eternity.
There are no shortcuts.
No algorithm will replace the Holy Spirit composed message He longs to convey.
There is no substitute for writing shaped by Scripture, suffering, observation, and years of hard fought healing and obedience.
Machines are astonishingly good at generating words. And quickly, too!
What they can never produce, though, is wisdom. They cannot worship. They cannot create a hunger and thirst for righteousness. They can never draw upon the One we have come to know and love.
The most important things simply cannot be automated.
We honor God (the giver of our gifts) by exercising them, not by finding ways to exploit them.
People need authenticity, not synthetic eloquence. After all, if the message doesn’t first speak to me, there is little reason to believe it will speak to you.
“God, let me think clearly and brightly; let me live, love, and say it well in good sentences…”
~ 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐡