I’ve begun this thing… a little writing thing.

I started it because I love writing.
I started it because writing feels good.
I started it because when I write I learn things.
I started it because I’m trying to discover my place in the world.
And ultimately, I started it because it was something that scared me, and continues to scare me.

But this week I got stuck. Even though my brain bubbled with ideas, they all looked flat and lifeless on paper.

I was left to contemplate four words that always like to sit at the back of my mind.

Purpose and passion.
Duty and motivation.

The pondering of four seemingly innocuous words required big questions.

What is my purpose?
What is my passion?
What is my duty?
What motivates me?

I don’t know about you, but sometimes these questions fill me with a slow moving, chest crushing anxiety. My knee-jerk reaction is to throw these questions into a hole and bury them under poorly managed routines, the noise of music or movies or TV, or small hobbies that allow for mindless respite.

Why do I do this? Because these questions ask for so much more than one word answers. They demand self-examination of a most excruciating kind. And, all of them point to an even greater question.

How do I understand the world?

I’ve long tried to answer those aforementioned four questions without reference to my understanding of the world, otherwise known as my worldview, and I’ve found that it simply does not work.

I had been denying my worldview in the posts I was creating because I wanted to create content that was unifying, inclusive and that had no cause to alienate or divide.

I’ve always been a people pleaser, but who was I kidding? I was asking the impossible of myself and, frankly, abandoning the experiences and beliefs that have shaped me into who I am today.

Now, what am I getting at?

Frankly, I’m not entirely sure. But I think it has something to do with fear.

I’ve been afraid to do a lot of things for fear of mediocrity, or failure, or criticism, or of alienating others or myself, and my writing is no exception, but living a life dictated by fear has never been a good way to live.

So, fearful as I am, I am here because I want to open a door to meaningful conversations in a place that is safe and free of judgement, but also honest and unapologetic.

I’ll start.

My name is Erin.

When I watch a sunrise I usually cry, because I feel the inexplicable presence of God whispering into my soul: I gave you life.

When I fill my lungs with a breath of fresh, crisp night air and turn my face to the stars I am confident that life is not an accident.

When I sit in nauseating luxury, and remember the heartbreaking words she has no mother, no father spoken of a 10 year old girl amongst the rice fields of rural Nepal, I know that there is something sick and broken about this world.

When I recall through child’s eyes the images of a skyscraper crumbling amidst a cloud of black smoke I am persuaded that there is evil present, seeking to divide and destroy.

When I see a ten cent coin I am reminded of a train almost missed and the generosity of a dishevelled stranger and I am certain that goodness and selflessness exist to unite and rebuild.

And when I call to mind the photograph of a man whose hands took the life of another, gently holding a child within the walls of a prison, I am convinced beyond a doubt of the impossible truth that someone called Jesus loved us so completely that He gave up a divine throne, became a man, died on a cross, and defeated death so that humanity in all its brokenness has hope of redemption.

This is how I understand the world, this is why I do what I do, I write what I write and I am what I am.

How about you?