I’ve been reading in Genesis about Joseph’s life. My pastor had been preaching a series on Joseph, and God gave me a writing idea in the midst of the sermon (yes, that happens a lot, and sometimes I have to jot down the idea in the middle of a church service so that I don’t lose it–but hey, it shows I’m paying attention, right?). In my personal devotions, I’ve been studying Jacob’s and Joseph’s lives as a way to flesh out this future writing idea (one I’m not ready to share quite yet.)

I’ve reached Chapter 39. You know, the whole Potiphar’s wife bit. And how Joseph goes to prison for a crime he didn’t commit. When Joseph first sat in that cold stone jail cell, did he figure he’d only have to endure a day or two? After all, he was innocent. He did everything right. He fled from temptation. He honored God. But when days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, and months into years…what must Joseph have thought at that point? No where does God tell us that Joseph’s faith wavered. But mustn’t it have? Mine would have. Really. God, I did all that you asked of me. Why am I here? How can this work for good?

In my writing life, I often ask these questions. Doubt walls me in, brick by brick. More often than I’d like to admit. A few months ago, I told the world that God was leading me to indie publish this book of my heart. And I’m still convinced that is how He is leading, how He has led, because peace came when I surrendered to it. Or when I believe He decided upon it for me. Yet, once again, walls of doubt tower around me. My faith becomes chained to my own ideas, and when I try to break free from them, to allow God to do what He wishes with this journey, I put my hands and feet back into the “I want it my way” shackles. I wish I could be like Joseph, who by all accounts seemed to place his trust in God even in the midst of not understanding. Of not knowing when the prison sentence would end. I often think I’ve spent as long on this story as Joseph spent in prison. It’s been ten plus years (off and on). And maybe it’s time to move on. Maybe God is leading me to indie publish, but not this book. I’ve started Book Two, but it wasn’t meant to be a stand alone, which leaves me wondering what I should be doing. And the answer is, I have to pray about it more. I have to unfetter from my own ideas, and trust that God will direct me. That He will help me to release what belongs to Him.

When God directed me to indie publish, it was like a burden was lifted. Honestly. I couldn’t believe the freedom I felt from that. Now I need to allow Him to show me if this was the book He’d planned all along in it’s imperfect state (which is one of the reasons I felt like God was leading that way, because it doesn’t fit in a perfect box or formula) or if this is simply the book He wanted me to practice on, to surrender to Him so I’d feel released to move on. Which would mean another year of not publishing. Which likely are the chains that imprison me the most. Because this is the only thing I’ve completed. And the thought of just abandoning it or trying to fix more things, weights me down. Another year of still not having anything published after years of working and striving feels much like Joseph.

But God blessed Joseph. Even in prison. And God has surely lightened my load, and given me encouragement, even in these times when I’m unsure of what the next step should be. Do I wait? Joseph had no choice but to do that. However, even during the waiting time, he was given work to do. So maybe that’s my answer. Work. And wait. And know that just like Joseph, my faith that feels so chained up and tangled, will one day be knocked loose. Like Joseph, begging to be freed, when he pleaded with the butler to remember him to Pharaoh so that he might taste freedom, but the butler forgot. Because God had no intention of delivering Joseph by his own strength. No. God had a much better plan. And He has one for me. It may be what I’ve always wished and dreamed. Or it may be far better than anything I’d ever contemplated. This writing vocation is not too small or unworthy of His notice. Neither was Joseph.