On Days I Don't Know What to Write

There are days when I don’t know what to write. There are days when it feels like my words and ideas have dried up, leaving a parched brain and a cracked Muse.

Some have commented on my ability to churn out new content in a seemingly endless stream. Their eyes grow wide when I tell them how often I write here and of the other projects I have spinning. Many times I just shrug and smile. Most of the time I don’t feel the weight of it all.


But there are times when the well seems to run dry.

I stare at a blank page, and the emptiness mocks me. I find other things to do—anything but sit down and feel the mental drought. I wonder if there will come a day when I run out of words for good.

Then I pick up my pen—and I write. I sit at my keyboard, and I squeeze out a few paragraphs.

This is the point when I embrace the reality that this is my job. It is not a fun artsy hobby. It is work, and sometimes work feels uninspiring. We pick ourselves up by sheer self-discipline, and we do our work anyway. It may not be our best day. It may not be the most fulfilling day—but we do it. And that is enough.

I know I’m not alone here. I hope that you, as I do, typically find your work enjoyable and fulfilling. I hope you see purpose in it. But even in the best of jobs, there are days when we’d much rather stay in bed, much rather curl up on the couch and watch Netflix, much rather do anything but go to work.

We wonder how we can possibly teach another lesson or calmly manage that disruptive student. We wonder how we can sit at the same desk, running tests, sorting through data, engineering solutions. We wonder how we can deal with the same problematic employee, the rude customer, the lunchroom drama. We wonder if the string of diapers that need changing, the sticky hands that need wiped, the petty squabbles that need soothed will ever end.

But each morning, you get up. You get up…and you go to work. And that is enough.

There is something in the discipline, something in the steadfastness that works something in us. It builds strength. It exercises the muscles of our faithfulness. It calls us to dependence. It invites us to step out once more—when we feel that we have no strength—and find that God’s grace is sufficient for our routine, daily existence. And finding Him there—that is enough.