Sometimes being a writer—and writing for publication—is so delightful, amazing, and wonderful, that you feel like a pig in mud.
And sometimes being a writer feels more like you’re a pig in raisin sauce.
Maybe you can’t identify. Maybe you’re just loving the writing life, riding high, cashing the checks, and collecting the awards.
If that’s the case, then you can close this window now. Just click away. This has nothing to do with you. But the rest of us know, though writing has many rewards, that writing for publication—writing professionally—can be brutal.
It’s a hard row to hoe, as Grandpa used to say. If you’ve discovered even a little of that reality, let me make a suggestion, which I think I can draw straight from the life of Jesus.
John’s Gospel relates a few sentences that might be easy to skip, especially coming, as they do, right before the story of Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well. John 4:1-3 says:
Now Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard that he was gaining and baptizing more disciples than John—although in fact it was not Jesus who baptized, but his disciples. So he left Judea and went back once more to Galilee (John 4:1-3 NIV).
There’s a lot more to those verses than meets the eye, but I’d like to focus on “So he left Judea and went back once more to Galilee.” I’m told that the Greek word used for “left” is a bit strong. One commentary says, “The word means ‘to leave a thing to itself,’ to its own ways, to treat it as no longer exercising an influence on the mind.” Judea meant opposition and persecution, even arrest, which He didn’t fear; but the timing was wrong, as He told His mother at the wedding in Cana. By contrast, Galilee was not only home but also openness. It had its challenges, too, but it was more fertile ground for His message and mission. So, Jesus left Judea in His rearview mirror and made for Galilee.
If you’re a writer, you probably have your own Galilee–and Judea, so to speak. Certain company or certain surroundings tend to drain and discourage you (your “Judea”), while others comfort and inspire you (your “Galilee”).
It may be that, like Jesus, you and your writing can profit from more intentionality and resolve in frequenting Galilee (at least for a time) more than Judea. You may be in your “Judea” right now and may need to consider your departure. You may be unable to completely avoid your Judea, but you may need to schedule periodic trips to Galilee to not only preserve (or restore) your sanity but also to stoke the fires of your creativity.
So, what came to mind as you read that? Where is your writer’s “Judea?” And your “Galilee”? Do tell.
