I think I have this perception that when I’m doing what I’m “supposed” to be doing — it’ll all just make sense. Not that it’ll be easy. But the process, the timing, the art, the science . . . the fame and fortune 😜 . . . all of it will just suddenly click.

Voila! Welcome! You’ve arrived!

Yeah . . . destiny ain’t ever gonna be that convenient.

Did a writer’s workshop with Rob Bell last weekend. Fear, anxiety, need for approval — that shit kills creative and many creatives. He suggested to just acknowledge it. When fear starts talking noise — “You will be judge,” “Some people will hate this” — to just say, “I know” and move on.

Maybe someone needs to hear this.

When I was in middle school, I got in trouble for smoking cigarettes. Well, one cigarette. There was only one.

And I don’t remember how my mom found out. Still, to this day, I’m not willing to bring it up.

At the time, I was under the impression that God had woken her up one evening — or had given her some sort of vision — and told her I was up to no good.

Is that true? Did God tell my mom I was smoking? I don’t know. It’s hard to think that God would be overly concerned about me lighting up one, single Marlboro Red when there’s hunger, poverty, racism, and injustice in our world. Kind of feels like His priorities would be out-of-whack.

But I will tell you this, it scared the shit out of me. At least for a season. Still does. I’m not overly mystical. But I’m sensitive to what’s happening. In my life — and in the lives of those around me. I’m always looking and listening to see if God really is paying much attention.

I know God’s thoughts are not my thoughts. Not even close in most instances. I know this. I really do. I just think all this would be a whole lot easier if they were.