I’ve been thinking a lot about our voice. Your voice, and mine.
In a season of quiet, where I’ve retreated from writing for the public and put down my phone and it’s connection to all the voices and all the stories, I’ve discovered again the pull of using my words. That writing makes me come alive, even if it’s just in my journal where no one will read my scribbles.
And then I think about whether that’s where my words should stay, hidden in notebooks – whether my voice matters, or whether some voices should be appreciated more than others.
About where I should use my voice, and if it’s here in this space of the internet, whether it can even be heard across the vast landscape of all the other stories vying to be listened to.
I thought it couldn’t.
But it’s easy to make excuses and find reasons to disqualify ourselves. I can blame busyness or lack of inspiration but sometimes, without realising it I’ve given in to fear and removed myself from the arena. Because being vulnerable can leave us feeling uncomfortable and we crave the protective cosiness of obscurity. But there’s no growth there. Out on a limb is where the fruit is. The new friend is on the other side of the room, the new skill is on the other side of having a go, and the new courage comes after we face the fear.
Sometimes the lie that we have nothing to offer pervades our thinking and sometimes social media tricks us into thinking our lives are less-than. But what I know is that we have to get back to telling ourselves a different story. That our collective stories, our voices together actually sing out a beautiful melody, not add to a sea of white noise.
That my stories need to be heard, and that your voice is just as vital.
I need the woman who shares her passion for food, just as much as the one who knows the beauty tips and tricks. There’s someone out there struggling in single motherhood, or raising a special needs child, or trying to reconcile her faith and she needs to hear your story.
And if yours is similar to mine, lets just sing it out together.
There’s room for all of us, and your brave is needed too.
And while we’re singing out our story, we can be confident that it’s been written by a very good and gracious God, every day of it in His book.
“Child,’ said the Lion, ‘I am telling you your story, not hers. No one is told any story but their own.” – C.S. Lewis