To Know I Was

Sometimes I read what I've written and actually benefit from it myself. That always surprises me. Yesterday's post is a case in point. It promoted me to give more attention to the grace I'm enjoying right now, than I do to what I hope to accomplish later today, tomorrow, or at some future time. This thing of writing may be the height of arrogance or the depth of self-asceticism, but hopefully it falls somewhere between the two extremes. Why in the name of all that's holy would anyone share a thought or experience, and expect any other person to choose to read and benefit from it? Perhaps writing is a base form of self-loathing, or an only slightly higher version of therapy. On really bad days and with certain topics, writing issues forth with subtle, or at times, not-so-subtle 'know-it-all' egotism. On better days, it gives concrete expression to human experience, creating an empathetic bond that allows for a loving challenge or gentle rebuff.

I guess what I'm pondering out loud is why I sit up late at night writing, awaken early to edit, and then glance throughout the day to see if anyone has read my paltry offering? A different and more accurate question may be in order: What if I didn't write? What difference would it make? The honest answer is that a refusal to record my thoughts would likely affect no one else, but it most certainly would hobble me. I am compelled to at least try to leave something behind greater than an insurance policy. I want desperately to do, say or write something that will outlive me: encouragement to someone I'll never meet exactly when it's needed, a reminder that I was here for family members that know and others who may hear my name but never know me in the flesh, a challenge to an errant practice that threatens to harm one's self or those they love. René Descartes penned the Latin philosophical  proposition: Cogito ergo sum ("I think, therefore I am"); however, I write, because I want others to know I was, and hopefully, learn something of what it means for a very ordinary person to live by the grace of an extraordinary Savior. 

"According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed, but that with all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life, or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." 

(Philippians 1:20-21, KJV)