I tear the love story I’ve written into shreds and throw them into the fire. Burying my face in my arms, I lie crumpled on the floor, unable to believe I could have let myself get carried away like that. I have hurt not only myself, but also the others involved in the story I have penned for myself.
The Lover of my soul appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and sits beside me while I cry. His arms wrap tightly around me, and His heart lavishes compassion on me. He doesn’t say a word; His presence is enough to soon calm my tears.
I look up at Him. “What did I do wrong?”
His eyes are filled with sadness. His heart is breaking for me; I can tell. I want to go back and erase it all. I want a fresh start. “Beloved, you did not ask of Me.”
I collapse into tears again, ashamed that I have walked away from my truest Friend. He stays beside me, comforting me. He assures me He will not leave me. And then He says the one thing I have been dying to hear.
“I can make it all go away. I can give you a new beginning.”
I look up with hope and dash away the tears. “Do You mean it?”
“I do. All you have to do is give Me that pen, and I’ll start it all over for you.”
I look down at the pen upon which His eyes are resting. I grimace. “Lord, this isn’t just the pen I’ve used to write my love story… It’s what I’ve been using to write my life story.”
“If you would have Me write a beautiful love story, I must have your entire life. But the choice is up to you.”
I gaze into His eyes, so full of love. I know that if I give up the pen, He will write a story beyond what I can even comprehend. But even so, I enjoy the security of my pen. I enjoy having the option of saying “no” to something He suggests. If nothing else, it is entertaining to try out certain plot devices, even if they had never worked out before and likely wouldn’t in the future.
“How about we collaborate?” I suggest hopefully. “I’ll leave the pen on that desk there, and when You want to write something You can, and when I want to write something, I can.”
“The choice is up to you,” He repeats.
I smile, glad that we’ve come to an agreement.
Time passes. I find myself in the middle of another love story. Since I’ve asked my heavenly Lover to collaborate, I’m sure that this time, it will all work out all right.
But it’s not too long before I find myself ripping it to shreds and tossing it in the fire yet again.
“Why didn’t you intervene?” I rage at Him. “I told You we would collaborate. Why didn’t You make it all work out in the end?”
“You began with ideas that were all your own – not Mine. If you had realized this earlier and asked Me to step in, I would have – but you never left the pen. You asked Me to collaborate, but you never even stepped aside and asked My opinion.”
I stare down at the pen. He is right. I had never once abandoned my post as author. Even if I had, all of His time would have been spent cleaning up the mess I had made. There would be no time for new adventures. If we switched off writing, it would be an endless rollercoaster, where I would write myself into a corner, He would write me out of it, and then it would all begin again. There was nothing beautiful about that.
“What do I have to do, then?” I ask.
“You have to give it up. Completely.”
I look down at the pen that has been my best friend and my worst enemy. Can I really leave it all behind? Can I forsake what I want to write into my life? Can I leave it entirely up to Him?
I look at Him. He looks back. He is longing for me to hand the pen over. He has a story in mind. I can see it written all over His face. He wants to write it, to make it all turn out beautifully, to bring it to a glorious ending that’s even better than the fairy tales.
I look at the pen again. I think of the heartache that it has cost me. I think of all the people I’ve hurt by my unskilled writing.
I walk up to my Lover, fall to the ground before Him, and there leave the pen. Never to pick it up again.
