Another Christmas has ended. A new year looms on the horizon, shadows dancing among streaks of light. And I find myself, once again, asking, “What is it all for?”
Why do I continue to write novels, when I barely eek out an average of $300 a month from over thirty books? Why do I bother gardening in the spring and summer, when I’ve developed some kind of sensitivity or other to just about any of the foods I can grow here? And when the inevitable disease that takes out most of the crops makes all the time and work to grow them seem pointless by August?
Why do I stay in a place where I can’t be free of year-round allergy symptoms outside of medical intervention, and where the barometric pressure sometimes seems to be constantly dropping, causing me fatigue and mood swings? Why do I continue to pray when most of my prayers seem to go unanswered?
Why bother publishing blog posts, when many of the views may be coming from bots, and probably most of the human views come from people who read only a fraction of the article and then leave? Why do I do the work – exercise, eat healthy, etc. – to be as healthy as I can, when I know that the afterlife will be a much more joyful, peaceful, and fulfilling place to be than my current life?
Why bother? Here's why.
I write stories because the activity helps me to maintain my mental health. I write stories because I believe that once in a while, a message in one of my books ministers to someone just when they need it.
And, when it comes to either careers or hobbies, writing stories is my first love.
I garden because I need to spend some time outside every day, and growing summer vegetables forces me outside in hot and humid weather that I would rather avoid. I garden because there’s no satisfaction like harvesting something you’ve grown yourself. I garden because it helps me understand ecosystems better. I garden because homegrown cucumbers are worth it.
I stay where I am because it’s a lot quieter than even a small town. I stay where I am because being surrounded by forest makes me feel closer to God. I stay where I am because to move would be excessively stressful, especially for my husband and our son, and I love them enough to sacrifice a bit of my well-being for the sake of their contentment.
I stay here because wherever we might move to, we would end up trading one set of challenges for another. And we’re used to the challenges we have here. We know what to expect, how to ameliorate them.
I pray because God isn’t Santa Claus, doing His best to fulfill our selfish wishes. I pray because prayer is about connection, not begging. I pray because it helps me keep my attitude straight and gives God permission to work in my heart.
I blog, in small part, to market my books. But more, I blog as a catharsis. I also blog on the off chance that a random visitor might read an entire post and receive encouragement.
As for the health question, well, I see and have seen many people suffer for years on their way to heaven, because they haven’t treated their bodies the way God designed them to.
What is it all for? Why do I bother working to live the best life I can, when I frequently don’t see the results I think I should?
I bother because emotions are fleeting. I bother because I only have the teeniest view of the impact I’m making. I bother because I’m supposed to love myself and my neighbor. I bother because I know God isn’t expecting international prize-winning work or global impact from me, but quiet, unassuming obedience.
I bother because He has given me a large purpose, an important purpose, the same purpose He has bestowed upon every human from time immemorial.
That purpose is to experience life to the fullest extent possible, and to walk by faith through every circumstance and situation it brings.
Even if the life feels small.
My friend, your life is not small in God’s eyes. It’s bigger than our solar system’s sun.
Happy New Year,
Emily Josephine.
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