Clay Pots

I have been bludgeoned by my friend Brenda Coulter--whom I would link with one of those fancy hyperlinks if I only knew how--into trying a blog. I don't have time to do this, but I always journal anyway, so I figured why not try to make myself articulate enough for public consumption.

So here goes. I am a writer. I am a published writer. I am a published writer in the throes of deadline. I am about to drive myself off a bridge. Just kidding. Sort of.

I write fiction with a Christian worldview, which sort of makes it imperative that I live what I write. Have to confess loudly and often that I am not smart enough, educated enough, funny enough, whatever enough to write a novel and turn it in on time. I am wildly undisciplined, often inarticulate, and highly insecure.

Interesting thing is, that is generally exactly the kind of person God picks for sticky tasks. Just this morning I read--quite by accident, I'm sure (NOT)--the story of Gideon and his 100 warriors conquering the hordes of the Midianites with ram's horns and torches in clay jars. Then I read somewhere else that men are but clay vessels in the hands of the Potter. Okay, I getcha loud and clear. The light don't shine unless the clay pot breaks.

I'm broke. I have 5 days to write 100 words. That's pretty stinkin scary. So let's see what the Lord of Hosts does with this clay pot.