I recently considered removing the previous three pages from my journal. My words are rambling and irritated and my thoughts wander around like a whiny child needing a nap. Over my years of journaling, I have discovered that agitation and irritation are sure-fire catalysts for filling up journal pages!
This is not always the case, of course. A survey of my journals would find descriptions of marvelous moments, like the birth of a child or grandchild, familiar to journal-keepers everywhere. I think with my pencil as I walk through a passage of Scripture. I pray on paper as I pour out my heart to God.
There has; however, been a question tickling the back of my mind as to whether I will leave this lifetime of soul-searching for posterity. It would be a blessed thing if a son, daughter, or grandchild found in these pages a profound observation or a treasure trove of life lessons. However, I rather worry that they might simply be seen as the messy ramblings of a generally dissatisfied woman.
But life can be messy. It can be iksome and frequently bound up in tragedy and sorrow. It can also be predictable and comforting in the ordinary flow of life that includes family, friends, work, and a myriad of responsibilities. Sometimes, we may take the time to pause long enough to see there is a sunrise and moonrise and the rhythmic drift of constellations. We experience grief and loss, triumph and pleasure. A journal maintained with any degree of honesty will chronicle a life both mundane and exhilarating, routine and wondrous.
Overarching within my journal each day’s journey is the presence of the love of God. I rest simultaneously under the shadow of heavenly wings and upon the strength of everlasting arms. I sail in waters calm and clear, and other times I spill into violent seas. Through it all, I learn to trust in Him. I trust my repentant heart will always find mercy, and my broken one will be mended—all somehow within the purposes of God.
Hopefully, within the pages of my journals there is a sense of journey, of the dogged and often painful working out of faith. I question God at times. He is, as my sister in the middle of chemotherapy used to say, big enough to take it. If Abraham and Moses are any example, He actually seems to relish an occasional confrontation with serious individuals thinking seriously about their straitened circumstances.
So, I’ll keep journaling, processing through the grit and irritation, weeping through grievous loss, and rejoicing in the wonder of life and the many favors of love. And I’ll keep a sense of humor—that remarkable and healing gift also from God.
Hopefully, my words spilling over page after page, journal after journal, will simply testify of a woman who walked through life with a God who loved her, who read every page, and in the end smiled and said, “Well done, my good and faithful servant” (Matt. 25:23).
Here are three field-tested journaling practices you may find helpful:
1. Make the effort to write something each week.
For some of us, journaling may be a daily practice. For others, it is wildly sporadic. But putting something down at least once a week creates a good linear thread and helps impose a discipline on your personal narrative.
2. Resist making your journal a simply a chronicle of events.
Describe your thoughts about the things that have materialized - the expected and the unexpected. How we process the things that occur in our lives can change dramatically over time. Writing down how we are sifting through those various experiences as we mature can help us get to know ourselves better in any season of life.
3. Avoid too much emoting.
Yes, it is your journal and you can emote all over the place if you want to. However, you are likely not going to appreciate the thinking-less quality of those pages when you re-read them in the future. This applies to even the very difficult things that each of us encounters in life. Instead, consider writing down what you prayed and how you prayed. God has marvelous ways of meeting us on the page during those painful seasons as His Word rises to the surface of our minds and pours a balm over our hurting spirits.
