I was browsing around the internet the other day, looking for some things screenplay related, and I ran across a blog by a British screenwriting bloke. In the upper, right-hand corner of the blog, it said something like this:
It’s not the rejection I’m afraid of. I can handle rejection. It’s the hope that drives me mad and has me up at night.
Ever been there?
“Oh, I hope that agent calls me back. She was so excited about my WIP.”
“I think my novel could easily be made into a movie.”
“Just imagine my non-fiction book stacked up five high, multiple stacks, just inside the doors of Barnes & Noble, displayed for all to see. Right next to all the big authors.”
“I’ve submitted my book into the awards contest. I hope I win.”
Hope can be a funny thing.
It inspires us. It’s probably what got many of us into this writing biz in the first place. It’s what motivates you into the wee hours of the morning, burning the midnight...eh, electricity.
It captivates us. Hope can dream big dreams. Most authors I’m sure have thought—at least once—about their name appearing in some prominent, writer-like location, where “the world” (it’s always the world, right?) can see it. The front cover of Time. The windows of B&N. In a promo spot on the Hallmark Channel.
It comforts us. Hope can be that rope by which we cling when our world is crumbling around us. It may be all we have at times, especially when we feel like people have abandoned us.
It can also drive us mad. Like the British bloke so aptly put it, we can hope so adamantly, so specifically, that when things don’t follow our aspired, inspired, and conspired comfortable game plan, then “all hope is lost.” “The world” has come to an end. It’s over. Just throw in the…eh, computer. We’ll never write again.
For those of us who name the name of Christ, our hope is in Him. Only He is solid ground. Only He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Everything else is transient. There is no such thing as a “sure bet.” Even sure bets, with whatever money is won at the track of human existence, will wither and fade. But that’s what happens when hope is built on sand instead of rock (Matt. 7:24-27).
Job knew this. Talk about hope and rejection. Yet, despite all the bad things that happened to him, including not having a very supportive spouse, he said, “Though he slay me, yet I will hope in Him” (Job 13:15).
Solomon understood this writer’s life: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life” (Proverbs 13:12).
Paul saw hope as an anchor (Hebrews 6:19). He saw the hope of salvation as a helmet that protects our head (mind, thoughts, beliefs; 1 Thessalonians 5:8).
Be mindful of the theme emerging from these scriptures and others like them. Our hope is to be placed in God and the things of God (justice, mercy, forbearance, kindness, peace, joy, love, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness). When we compare these things of God to our hopes of this writing life, being a published author or a conference speaker or an award-winning writer become chaff as God grinds us down to this kernel of truth: Hope isn’t maddening when it is properly ordered in the ways of God.
So, how do you hope?
No comments:
Post a Comment