Michael Faudet and his troll of a one-liner
I write because you exist.
Isn’t it embarrassing to admit that the second you finished reading this sentence, you only thought of just one person. And at that very moment, his/her name personified the “you” of this one-liner, and you hated it?
You hated it because you get reminded of why you’d rather write about something and someone more valuable (in every season), but instead, you’re stuck with writing about this very thing or person you’d rather not write about. And you hate it ’cause you can’t help it.
I may or may not have felt the same thing.
Regardless of how much this relates to me, I’d like to establish that this does happen, and may in fact be happening right now among the people you know.
What to do in this situation, then?
First, admit to God what you feel.
If this made you forsake your First Love, acknowledge that for some time, you have allowed yourself to drift away from God. Repent.
Ask God to remind you again of the victory He has made possible because of what He has done.
Then humbly ask why this had to happen.
If you do not get an answer, rest on the fact that God remains sovereign.
Declare that it is possible to be okay again, even though you do not know how long it will take for you to heal.
Believe that God sees your desire to get back up again, for Him to be your First Love again, and He will honor that.
To everyone who has been feeling hopeless with their (lack of) improvement, a huge chunk of this post will attempt to help us how to respond in a way that is hopefully pleasing to the Lover of our soul. Feel free to use it as your template as you write your own version. 🙂
Because you exist
I write because you exist.
I write because you made me feel things.
I write because you made me believe in things.
I write because you made me listen to songs I didn’t imagine I’d be listening to. (I think Taylor Swift’s Back to December is our song. Maroon 5’s Just a Feeling became my anthem. It’s impossible for me not to think about you when Spotify teases me with The Script’s Nothing.)
I write because you made me laugh at jokes I find corny.
I write because you made me appreciate the mundane things that I usually take for granted.
I write because you have convinced me that I have a way with choosing the people I share my life with me.
I write because you left me feeling proud that I am involved with you.
But writing about and because of you is too exhausting already.
I’d resort to writing when I see you, but can’t (or choose not to) talk to you.
I’d resort to writing when I remember you and everything that has happened.
I’d resort to writing when I’d learn about how well you were doing (and the fact that I didn’t get to contribute at all to how well you’re doing).
Eventually, I have come to realize that these are all just my selfishness getting the better of me. Because…why does it always have to be anybody’s fault but mine?
Now, I resolve to stop channeling all my efforts into something that will not contribute to being the best version of myself. I am a huge advocate of time and effort spent wisely. But lately, I keep blaming other things and other people for everything crappy that has happened to me. And so I write.
Most especially because of you.
I claim that I write because this, and that.
But in the process, I forget that ultimately, I write because I am.
I write because I am a writer. A writer with the skills to communicate how awesome it has been to be able to have the privilege of knowing Jesus. A writer who has a way with words that relay comfort for the saddest, love for the most unloved, refreshment for the stressed, assurance for the worried. A writer who has been written about, 2000 years ago, by the Greatest Writer Himself.
And the puny writer’s narratives about this Greatest Writer are nothing compared to the Writer’s narratives, both written and unwritten.
And yet the puny writer continues to write about unnecessary things and people. Pity.
I write because I am
Recently, I have been putting so much effort into writing about something and someone unnecessary that I forgot why I have been called to write in the first place.
So now, I resolve to write because I am. By God’s sufficient grace, I will write because He has called me to write.
To write about God’s love, despite my being unworthy to be loved.
To write about God’s strength, despite my weaknesses and limitations.
To write about God’s acceptance, despite all the reasons to reject me.
To write about God’s salvation, despite my hopeless situation.
To write about God’s mercy, despite the punishments I should be convicted of.
To write about God’s sovereignty, despite this crazy, wicked world.
To write about God’s redemption, despite how ugly I have become.
To write about who God is, when that’s the last thing I’d want to do.
Here we go.
Because You exist
I wrote because I am weak.
I wrote because I get tired easily.
I wrote because my limitations overpower me.
But now, I will write because You are strong and able.
I wrote because I compared myself to others.
I wrote because I can never be like him.
I wrote because I can never be like her.
But now, I will write because You are my security.
I wrote because I’d fall short.
I wrote because I unnecessarily do too much.
I wrote because I’d get frustrated at how long it has been taking me to become functional again.
But now, I will write because You remind me that I am Your work in progress.
I wrote because I tend to harbor unforgiveness.
I wrote because I still nurse the bitterness caused by everything that has happened.
But I have been forgiven much, and I seldom forget that.
So now, by God’s grace, I will write because I have been forgiven much (and those who have been forgiven much, forgive much).
I wrote because I loved and was loved.
I wrote because I eventually got confused about what love means.
I wrote because I felt like I lost a lot because this “love” messed up.
So now, I will write because You are the definition of Love.
I wrote because he said “I love you”.
I wrote because I responded with an “I love you too”.
But our I love you’s have eventually wrecked us both.
So now, I will write because Your “I love you” has always been enough.
I wrote because I have been broken.
I wrote because I broke people.
I wrote because I wanted to get even.
But now, I will write because You heal and You restore.
I have been writing about how I can’t do it, how I have been broken, how I felt unloved, how I got rejected,
My, how foolish of me to forget that You can do it, You restore the broken, You love the unloved, You accept the rejected.
Now, I want to write because You exist.
I want to write simply because You exist.
Not because of some other reason.
Not because of some other person.
I want to write because of who You are.
I will write because of who You are.
And who You are is worth writing about.