In Walking on Water, Madeleine L’Engle writes:
To serve should be a privilege, and it is to our shame that we tend to think of it as a burden, something to do if you’re not fit for anything better or higher.
Later in the same chapter:
When the artist is truly the servant of the work, the work is better than the artist.
When I think about a muse or my creativity or whatever you want to call that within each of us, I wonder about why it is that humans are drive to art of one form or another. I’ve read several different theories from several different people, but I won’t review all of those here. After thinking about it for many years, I realize for me it’s in response to how I experience my life.
A friend and I talked at lunch a couple of weeks ago about the content guidelines for some Christian publishing houses. I told my friend that I didn’t strive to teach some universal truth, I just wanted to entertain with my writing.
I realize this is not the whole truth. Of course, I want to entertain, but I want something more. I want to touch something deep and human within a reader. I want to connect with another human being who will respond to my stories whether it’s with “Yeah, she gets it.” or with “She’s an idiot and has no clue.”
I want to be able to do as Ms. L’Engle says and serve the work.