Writing is a painful process. It’s not painful because it’s hard. It’s painful because it’s ridiculously easy, and it’s because it’s what I’ve been called to do. It’s essential to my purpose. A purpose that I have run from, hid from, swore against, and blocked in about every way I know how.
It ends tonight.
This is not another blog. For me, this is a place to live out my purpose. Sound a little dramatic? Let me explain.
Before I was even born, my mom and dad had a tough time naming me. I ended up with the name Pam (Pamela) because of a prophetic picture given to non-practicing, didn’t-even-know-she-was-prophetic mother.
My mom prayed about my name for months, and one day, the Lord gave her a vision of a large, brightly colored, abstract painting. In the corner, she watched as a hand beautifully wrote “Pamela.”
So, as you see, from the beginning, my life has been about a form of art. Except for one thing. I can barely draw shapes let alone anything else. For me, a lined sheet of paper is my canvas. And words are my paint.
I’ve let very few people read my journals and poems over the years. Mostly because they are good, and I don’t know how to accept praise (despite the fact that words of affirmation are among my top two needs in life). Sometimes, I haven’t shared because I’ve been fearful of criticism. Luckily for me, and for you, this isn’t going to be my journal per se. This is merely space for me to share the revelations God has given to me. Sometimes that will involve my story. Sometimes it will just involve my senses. This is the space where I share what the Lord has done in my life or in other’s lives to send freedom. This is the space for after restoration. This is the space for renewal. This is a place where He will renew me. And I hope that this is a space where He will renew us.