thoughts on becoming an author

it's been said that there can be no true confession before man, and I think that, to a large degree, that's true. Man will always try and paint himself up prettier than he is in actuality because he, in his heart of hearts, still believes that sin is a game of comparison. he doesn't want to believe that he is truly as bad as anyone else. and so within his "confession" there are subtle lies and knowing omissions. and his "confession" serves as a testimony to his vanity and to his lack of faith in the all-surpassing grace of God.

could i write a book? hmmm....

if i endeavor to do this, to write in such a way that my soul is laid bare, i must make this a practice in honesty. there mere thought of such a practice is terribly frightening. i am bound to disappoint everyone i know. i am a far greater sinner than any of them have imagined. of this i have no doubt. i can imagine the look of horror upon my grandmother's face as she reads of my sexual failures, the anger of my grandfather when he learns of my loose tongue, the great sadness of my mother when she learns of how i turned children's books into drinking games, and the cold shoulder sure to come from the ministers that i have served alongside when they see the thoughts of my twisted, perverse mind.

all of these i must be willing to face for the glory of His name. i must stand steadfast and believe that He who set me free from the bondage of sin and death will surely hold me fast in His love. i must believe that the single greatest thing that could ever happen to me is that my sins would be exposed before the world like they were plastered up on the billboards of every highway in the country so that i would have no place to hide. i couldn't run anymore- the only place that i could flee would be into the sweet, ready arms of Jesus, clinging to Him with all my might. He'd be all I'd have. He's all I have any way, and maybe it's high time i realized that.

i owe the last realization to derek webb.