I lost my passion, and that’s okay

It’s been 10 months since I published a blog post. In that time, it seems that I may have lost my passion.

I’ve started and then deleted no less than 5 drafts in the last few months. I have struggled to find words that feel adequate. Sometimes it seemed that what I had to share wasn’t good enough for a “comeback.” I don’t even know if anybody is still listening to this void where I scream my thoughts. I can feel my words echoing off the empty space that is my corner of the internet. I’m afraid, friends, that I have forgotten how to write. Afraid that I’ve lost the spark that once made me call myself a newspaper editor, aspiring novelist, and writer.

Welcome back to Our Inspired Hearts! Aren’t I positively inspiring?!

The path of gain (and loss)

Last May, I began my first post-grad job. It was the job I least expected because I was actively pursuing jobs that were anything but this one. About halfway through college I became convinced that I had misheard the call on my life to enter vocational ministry. Instead, I thought God really wanted me to be a lifelong academic by pursuing my PhD and teaching at the collegiate level. But then I thought, no, that’s not it either. I was clearly supposed to be my own boss; my freelance work was sustaining me and with just a little added effort could blossom into a financially stable full time career.

Ah, but wrong was I.

Around this time last year the church where I grew up posted a job listing for an associate pastor. For years I said I would love to return there someday. I just never fathomed it would be as a member of the pastoral staff.

For days, I resisted my family’s encouragement to submit my resume. But eventually I gave in because, as I described it, the job posting was the first one I’d seen that “didn’t make me want to cry myself to sleep.”

The next few weeks unfolded rapidly, pushing my blog and freelance work to the back burner, and before I knew it, I had the job. I had such immense, inexplicable peace about my new job as a youth and young adult pastor. It was nothing I imagined but everything I knew I needed.

There was no doubt then, and there is no doubt now, that this is the path God intended for me. In those vital months post-college, I gained a family that continues to support me, encourage me, and love me regardless of my constant need for grace. I am thankful, and I have gained so much from this beautiful and difficult path.

But, ugh. I lost my ability to write.

Where is the passion?

Of course, I still write all the time: emails, lesson plans, prayer journals, encouraging notes, and occasionally I’ll even draft a text so long it could be marketed as a novella.

What I’ve lost is the ability to write anything beyond what you see above.

I’ve been staring at the screen now for 20 minutes asking myself, “Nikki, what on earth are you trying to say?”

The problem with creativity is that we’re made to believe it comes on a whim. We’re told that creative people simply wake up in the morning with a spark and by noon it magically morphs to completion. But that is simply not true.

Creativity requires practice. It requires dedication. It requires love and nurturing, patience and failure. Repetition. Editing. Fixing. Deleting. The written word, you see, cannot be as simple as a whim.

Sometimes, of course, it can. But the kind of written word that lasts beyond the brief whispering in the wind? That requires investment.

And, wouldn’t you know, but I stopped investing in my passion, my craft, my art.

The never ending battle of craft and passion

The first year of my post-college career is soon to end. By then, I’ll be a seasoned professional. A true pro. Ready for everything the world could throw my way! (Please tell me you can sense my sarcasm?!) One thing is embarrassingly apparent: if I am ever going to relearn how to write with my own artistic, creative voice – I’m going to have to be okay with being awful for a while.

I’m going to have to publish things like this post. Wordy, primarily message-less ramblings that nobody but my mom cares about. Posts meant not necessarily to aid others in their life walk, but rather that are exercises in faithfulness to myself and my passions.

The days where honing my craft was simple and easy are gone, and they’re gone for good. It will never be as easy as it was when I was a college kid dreaming up a future filled with anything and everything little ole me could imagine. If I’m ever going to get good at this writing thing again, I’m going to have to suck.

And I’m just going to have to be okay with it.

It’s okay to not be good (at your craft)

If there’s anything I hope you’ll take from this first attempt at awakening the dead (blog), I hope it’s this: it’s alright to start over, to admit that you aren’t who you once were, and that in gaining a lot, you have also lost much.

You can recapture the magic. The craft. The love. It requires pain, failure, and a whole lot of self-love. And maybe it won’t ever be the same. Maybe you won’t ever feel quite as much fulfillment as you once did. But if you never try, never push through the misery and the shame and sadness of losing what once brought you joy, then one thing is for sure: it will never, ever bring you joy again.

I hope you’ll get up, brush off the dust, and try again. Even if it sucks. (Yeah, I’m talking to myself. But also to you.)

Much love,

Nikki

• Alyssa Bethke’s “Satisfied” – Gentle Hug in a Book
• A letter to my Valentine
• The last 2 years: Hello again, I’ve missed you
• Grief during the COVID-19 pandemic
• I lost my passion, and that’s okay