Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Who Is My Muse?

Here’s the thing:
When things seem to get harder and harder…
When there seems to be no end in sight to problems or obstacles…
When hopes seem get raised and then dashed to the ground…
When goals seem farther away now than they were at the beginning…
When life seems faced with a few big problems and a lot of little ones…
When there don’t seem to be any prospects on the horizon…
You have to Keep Going. 
You have to Keep Going.
You have to Keep Going.
You can’t give up.  You might want to give up, but you can’t.  I mean, literally, you can’t.  You can’t go back to being who you were before your Muse got your attention.  You can’t go back to being someone without Purpose.  You can’t go home again, because your real home is not behind you; it’s in front of you.  You can’t go back to who you once were.
Because if you do…
Because if you do…
Because if you do…
You will die.  You may not die literally, but it will feel like you did.  It will be worse than death.  It will be murder, because you will have killed the most valuable part of yourself, the part that dreams, the part that brings hope and creativity and life to you.  You can’t murder your Muse.  That’s the good news.  You can ignore her, but you can’t kill her.  She’s immortal.
Today someone asked, “Who or what is your Muse?”
My Muse is that force that drives me.
She is the woman I love with all my heart.
She is the voice of God.
She is my instinct.
She’s the deepest part of me, the part that I thought was buried.
She is every one of my goals.
She’s my house on the beach.
She’s my children.
She’s the one who doesn’t let me rest when she wants me to write or do the things God has called me to do.
She’s my desire to make a better life for those I love.
She’s the one who rescued me when I didn’t know how to rescue myself.
She’s the most serious part of me.
She’s the part of me that has the most fun.
She's the part of me who understands what Jesus meant when He said, "My food is to do the will of my Father.
She’s the reason I was born.
She's the one who heals me.
She’s the reason I write, the reason I have to write.
She’s my work.
She’s the one who reminds me that all my troubles are just illusions.  The only thing that’s real is my house on the beach or whatever assignment she gives me.  All the “problems” and “disappointments” and “obstacles” and “disillusions” are actually just illusions.  Only my Muse and my house on the beach and my work and the people I love are real.
That’s why I can Get Started and Keep Going every day.  That’s why anything “bad” that happened today wasn’t even real.  That’s why problems only seemed that way.  They weren’t real.  Only my Muse is real.  She's all that matters.