In this strange, wonderful, technologically connected era, everyone is a writer. Everyone is expected to have some form of a blog, whether that is a full-fledged Wordpress or just a Tumblr. We all write. This is a great thing because it means we all have voices that have the chance to be shared across a global platform. This is also a horrible thing because not everyone can be heard. Not everyone’s voice is going to go viral, let alone reach 100 readers. It's a discouraging age for writers who don't have a large audience. Their words might never be read. It's like sticking a blog post in a rain cloud and hoping it falls where people are, and not in the middle of the ocean.
The Odyssey alone has over 8,000 writers. So why did you just click on my article?
I’m guessing it’s because you know me. I doubt any strangers are reading this — they have no reason to. In fact, I’d be willing to bet at least a hundred other blog posts were published today around the world on this same topic. So why are you reading mine?
I don’t know. But this I do know:
I am a writer. I pursue writing because I know words have the power to change the world and I want to use mine positively to make the world better.
Maybe I should be worried. Maybe I should stop writing since I am clearly not reaching very many people.
I have struggled with this because I long to leave my mark on the world. So badly, I want to be able to say I was here and that I somehow improved it. When I battle these feelings, I have to go back to the beginning and remember why I write in the first place.
I write to make people feel things, to ask them questions, to make them think and to inspire them to action. And I do these things because I know God has given me the gift of writing and He wants me to use it to further His kingdom. I don’t write for my own recognition, but for God’s.
When I’m at my lowest, doubting my impact and considering quitting, I always go back to this purpose and remember that I am not doing this for me.
I am writing for the girl in the corner who hasn’t spoken in two days. I am writing for the boy who can’t stop smiling and for his mother who doesn’t want him to stop. I am writing for the man in the coffee shop who won’t tell anyone what he is struggling with. I am writing for the grandmother who doesn’t know what to do anymore and for the child who doesn’t know where to start.
I am writing for anyone who will listen.
If just one person reads what I write, if just one person wonders a little more deeply about life, then I have succeeded. If just one person smiles, remembers, loves, gives, or thinks because of something I have written, then I have succeeded.
And despite the drowning, forgetful, burial ritual of the internet, I will continue to write. Despite the fact that I am one voice in a sea of millions, I will continue to write. Despite the fact that every single article I publish will only be read by about 40 people, I will continue to write.
I will write because I have to, because it helps me breathe and live. But I will write, more importantly, because God has called me to, and I know He can and will use my words to somehow, someway, make the world a little better.
It only takes one person.
So I will write.
I am writing for you.
