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to read her is to know



Let me start off by stating, I am terrified.


There is a well-known quote that provides insight into my founding feelings for the subject of this post. I first heard and resonated with this quote a few years ago. Upon reading it, likely on instagram, I determined that its author, Tim Keller, had been delegated some superpower to search the secret sentiments stirring in my soul. His words gave form to the invisible yearnings within me. Since then, I've found myself precluding conversations (and arguments) with this quote.

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God"

Timothy Keller


This blog is my attempt at facing that fear. Most of me is expressed in writing. The deep, dreamy, destructive, daring, delicate. While I've attained ardor for the practice of writing, I've not yet embraced the same enthusiasm for sharing my work. As I mentioned earlier, it's actually quite terrifying.


If you read what I write, you'll know. How could I detail a character's battle with depression if I had not felt the pain myself? I wouldn't be able to accurately unveil the nakedness of love, if I had not yet been exposed. You'll see that Cyrus and Rae are fictional placements for the humanity in my own marriage. You could laugh at my ambition or you could cheer me on. You could shame me for my sin or you could relate and, for a moment, feel not so alone.


There's a level to self-assurance that, I believe, can't be reached until one's confidence has been challenged. I can't really accomplish my goals if I hide behind unpublished drafts. It would be negligent for me not to note the greater purpose in sharing our gifts. More than this desire to be known and achieve dreams is the calling to return our talents to the One who first provided them, making the Creator known rather than ourselves. When I approach it this way, my insecurities don't seem to matter as much. It's actually not about me; it never has been.


I'll conclude abruptly, you'll be reading more of me. In a two-minute scroll on your phone and accompanied with the woodsy scent of a paperback soon enough.



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