I admit it. I’ve wondered if I have what it takes for this writing thing. I mean, did God really gift me in this area or am I like the kid trying out for every NBA team because he has a dream, not realizing he lacks the talent level?
This week I got two rejections. Nothing new. Rejections are a way of life in the writing business. But these two were different.
I’ve had nice rejections before—the kind that are polite and personally written rather than a form letter. But never have they been as bittersweet or as personal as these two. Both came from well-respected people in the CBA. Both highly complimented my writing. Both left the door wide open for future submissions to them. But in the end, both rejected me.
I followed up with one and received further, unsolicited encouragement to keep working, that my writing was at the publishable level, I just hadn’t hit the right story and the right time yet.
The Lord knew I needed to hear that. I needed those words from Him through another to sweep away the discouragement that has nagged at my heart. It showed me yet again the power of words, especially written words—words in a medium that can be reviewed again and again without elapsed time to skew them into more or less than they originally were.
Last Christmas, the Lord gave me a gift on the 23rd—an acceptance of a short story for publication. This year He gave me another, in the form of two rejections that infused me with hope.
And isn’t that what Christmas is all about anyway? Baby Jesus in the manger, God in human form. He is our ultimate Hope.