Lindsey Gendke

A few months ago when I blogged about scaling back my writing efforts in favor of motherhood, a faithful reader asked in the comments, “Do you think your writing desire might be an idol?”

After giving her question plenty of thought and prayer, along with hunkering down with the Bible and other sacred writings, I can answer that question. The answer is yes.

It’s a complicated issue, because I’m also quite certain writing is a calling from God. It’s part of my mission and ministry. So, on the one hand, my writing is a calling from God. On the other hand, it is an idol. How can two such opposite things get confused in the same activity?

God has impressed me with lots of thoughts about this as I seek to put him back at the center of my life. (If it seems like I have to wrestle with the task often, it’s true—I do. Satan is always warring within me to take my focus off Jesus.)

Worshiping Gifts, instead of the Gift-Giver

Isaiah and Jeremiah teach me much about my tendency to confuse the gift with the Gift-Giver. Isaiah 44 strikes to the heart of the matter by describing how people use part of a tree to make an idol, and then burn the rest of it as firewood (see especially verses 9-11 and verse 15). The firewood is the proper use for the wood, because the wood is only a tool given by God for sustaining and improving life.

It’s the same with any “tool” or gift God gives us. Our gifts, like firewood, are meant to be spent for the spread of the gospel. We should not try to conserve them, because they were given to be used. When God gives us a talent, it is wrong to worship it, to look to it to bring us satisfaction. No, we should always and only look to God for satisfaction, and salvation. The talent, gift, or tool, is just that: a tool that should be used, even exhausted, in the service of God and others. It is nothing to take pride in; on the contrary, it should help us humble ourselves before God.

I am on track when I focus my writing on God and the message he wants me to share with others. I get off track when I focus on what my writing can bring me: as in fame, success, or recognition.

I also get off track when I focus on the writing of others, even Christian writers, as something to aspire to so that I can have similar success.

My Distorted Relationship with Reading

On that note, here’s something that surprised me in my recent inventory of my heart: I’ve been reading “good, Christian books” with the wrong motives. I’ve been reading lots of self-help books, but not receiving any help—because I’m reading for craft, not content.

What do I mean?

Four of five years ago, when I first starting seriously researching how to publish my writing, I read that writing is a business, and writers need to study writing that sells. At the time, I was also getting to know the Lord better and working at beating depression, so I had the noble goal of writing and publishing uplifting books. To feed these parallel goals—publishing, growing spiritually—I started reading writing/publishing books in tandem with Christian/self-help books; at the time, the writing books were to help me write better, the Christian books were to make me a better Christian.

But at some point, all my reading, even my Christian reading, became too much about the publishing. I found myself reading popular Christian authors not just for spiritual feeding, but for research.

I wanted to know what topics these best-selling authors were writing about that were selling so well, and I wanted to know how good they were at the craft, to see if my writing could stand up to theirs—or, more particularly, to see if my writing was of publishable quality.

When I judged that my writing was, in some cases, of higher quality, I became prideful.

And when I read that I must immerse myself in “good writing” in order to produce “good writing” (grammatically and aesthetically speaking) I became a reading snob. I started to choose my reading based on the quality of the writer’s writing—and not so much on the quality of the writer’s Christianity.

I won’t name drop here. I’ll just say I’ve read some “Christian writers” who write beautifully, but who, in their writings, exalt a spirit of selfishness and prideful-ness, and a resistance to yield to God’s hand of correction, should it conflict with their inner desires. Some of these Christian writers are heavily influenced by the world and popular culture’s “follow your heart” mentality—a mentality that must, if I believe God’s word, come from Satan.

I know some of my own writing bears out this struggle between Christ and Satan—and I am sorry. I am not sorry for representing the struggle, because the struggle is real, and we must name it to overcome it. But I am sorry for the times I have let Satan win. And I repent of it. I want to give my gift of writing to the Lord once again, to be used to uplift him, and not myself.

Getting Back to Truth

So I am getting back to truth. I am reading some hard-hitting stuff that doesn’t really feed my literary side, but feeds my soul. And I am asking the Lord to make the “soul impact” of my writing my greatest concern—not it’s literary quality, or it’s salability (if salability would mean it is out of alignment with God’s truth). I am letting go of “idol writing”—writing for myself, and for my own gain—in favor of writing for love of God and for my fellow humans—the two greatest commandments.

Lord, help me to stay true to you in all I do—especially in this gift you’ve given me.