Sometimes, I just don’t know what to write.
Sometimes, I hear the words of Ecclesiastes in my head and wonder what the point of it is at all:
“Everything is unutterably weary and tiresome. No matter how much we see, we are never satisfied; no matter how much we hear, we are not content.History merely repeats itself. Nothing is truly new; it has all been done or said before. What can you point to that is new? How do you know it didn’t exist long ages ago? We don’t remember what happened in those former times, and in the future generations no one will remember what we have done back here” Ecclesisates 1:9-11, The Living Bible Translation.
My head knows this is exactly the type of discouragement the enemy wants me to play over and over in my head. But the chances of me being a human being alive on this planet are 1 in 10 2,685,000.
Uhm, that’s a 10 followed by 2,685,000 zeroes, people. The chances that we are alive at this moment in time are basically zero. (Source: Dr. Ali Binazir.)
So there has to be a reason I’m alive at this moment in time writing on this planet right now. I have to remember when I’m down in my writing pity party that I was born a writer because someone needs to hear what I have to say. Someone will be helped by my words.
And that doesn’t apply only to me. It goes for you, too.