purpose in Christ

So, I don't know if you know this but...

I'm a writer.

I know, I know, you're thinking, "uh, Sara? I follow your blog. That means I'm reading words that you -- wait for it -- write."

And that's certainly true. I try to channel my joyful living into this little corner of cyberspace, filling it with stacks of words and even the occasional picture.

I've been studying my purpose, though, particularly in this season of my life. Happily married, to someone perfectly willing to provide an income so that I don't have to, and with (theoretically) hours and hours of time to fill -- that begs for a mission, a purpose, some grand scheme to strive toward. So I've been pondering that.

First and foremost, I am a disciple of Christ. I'm still wrapping my brain around this one. It's so over-arching, yet so powerful. My discipleship leads me to set aside negativity, impatience, and judgment, leaving no place for it in my head or heart. As a follower of Christ, I have to replace that with hope, longsuffering, and charity. If I'm really paying attention to this, this purpose can take up a lot of my thoughts and energy in a given day. It makes my days sunshiney and delightful, because I am full of Christ and feel Him pouring His grace into my motivations and into my heart, providing tenacity and peace.

With that kind of relationship with the Master, every other purpose becomes easier. I am a wife, meaning that no, I don't get an income, but you'd better believe I have a job! The best job in the whole world: making my home a pleasant place, full of order and peace and safety. I work every day to make this little apartment a haven for Chris, this amazing man that I so deeply love. (Some days, it goes beautifully. Other days, like today, not so much. That probably explains why I'm up at 11:53, frantically blogging so I can say I put in my 15 minutes of writing today.)

When I was a teenager, and facing a bit of an identity crisis, I plead for guidance and was told "thy time shall be given to writing, and to learning much." That still holds true. I am a writer, though perhaps not an accomplished one, or an experienced one, or one who knows enough about it to teach it. But I am a writer nonetheless. In the end, I "labor diligently to write, to persuade [others] to believe in Christ, and to be reconciled to God." Heavenly Father has planted that emblem deep in my heart these last few weeks, and I'm trying so hard to live up to it.

Today I can say that I wrote for 15 minutes, like I promised myself I was going to do every day from now on. It's 479 words, and counting, that didn't exist in the world before. I hope that someone, somewhere, will find them and believe in Christ. He's the reason for the words, the hope in my heart, and the only way to lasting happiness that has ever worked for me. He gives me purpose and strength, whether that's because He brought my husband to me (and believe me, Chris provides so much purpose, and strength) or just because Jesus loves me, loves all of us, and wants us to know it.

Today, stress and imperfection and totally messy apartment aside, I know that He loves me.

And so, tomorrow is another day.