Five years ago, I started writing.

At the time, it was my number one hobby, my go-to stress reliever, the only way I learned how to process my thoughts. At the time, I wrote because I loved words. I went to college, and a professor noticed this.

Four years ago, I started writing for my major.

At first, I didn't notice any shift. I started a personal blog, to help create my own writing style, and I poured all of my energy into being an English major. I knew my ability to write was a God-given skill, and I fully intended to use it for his glory. That's even what my first blog was titled. I was committed to the idea of sharing the Gospel through my talent. I wrote my final ENGL 1102 essay on biblical truths, and I was convinced that keeping that up would be easy.

Three years ago, I started writing for my friends.

I structured my blog around what my friends were reading online. I looked at the articles people shared, and I copied what I thought would get page views. My content was incredibly far from original. Even the posts about my faith were opaque. I wrote what sounded good to everyone. I wasn't raw or transparent, my writing wasn't real.

Two years ago, I started writing for my professors.

I felt the pull of those around me and what they liked to read. I started pursuing essay ideas that my friends within the major thought were interesting. I wrote papers that argued ideas that I knew I didn't agree with, just to get good grades.

I copied what my professors liked in order to gain approval within the department. I started considering grad school, and I wanted to be the best. I had no real clue what I was really moved by because I spent so much time worrying about what was moving other people.

One year ago, I stopped writing for other people

and for myself.

I remember thinking back to years before when I bought my first journal and every entry was the truth. The shame I felt remembering how long ago it was and how long it had been since I had written anything truly really was crushing.

I remember praying because I didn't know how I had fallen into it and how I would get out of something that seemed so cyclical. Here was a gift that God had given me, to reach others with the Gospel, to share the love of Christ, to teach, to disciple, that I had shoved into my own parameters and forced into a box full of Me.

And it discouraged me, but it also grew me. Through that realization, I shifted. I started writing articles that reflected the truth of Christ, and I began structuring my essays around ideas that were unique and powerful.

Essentially, I stopped caring what you think. I say you as a general term, but what I mean is I stopped writing for views and approval. I stopped trying to force myself, as a writer, to conform to every standard, so I wouldn't seem offensive or judgmental. I let go of everything that man wanted me to be and held on to everything that God created me to be, as an artist and as a follower of Christ.

And today, I write for His glory.