Here is a parable for writers:

Writers are like a man whose wife has compelled him to diet. One night he wakes with a craving for chocolate. He turns softly in bed to see if his wife is deeply asleep, then slowly slides out of bed and down the hall to the kitchen. He wrestles gently with the wrapper, slides the chocolate down his throat, regrets the sweetness. Somewhat brazenly he returns to bed, only to find that all is still very quiet.

In a nutshell, writers, and specifically writers trying to create for God's glory often write hesitantly because of fears from many directions. These fears create a lack of confidence that stifles our energy and we give up, only to make another run at it some time later, with similar results.

When we think about writing, the greatest obstacle that we face is not one of flat characters, uninspired language, or any other technical element. It is not practical considerations such as how to make a living. Rather the greatest obstacle between us and God-honoring art is fear. We fear that that we would spend hours on a piece that is our soul, only to have those outpourings flutter through the world like a plastic grocery bag flung through autumn and eventually blown up against a chain link fence to trap leaves and garbage, totally unnoticed.

Even before that terror, we fear that when we sit to write, nothing will bubble up from the dark unknowns of creativity—that we will sit like a barren woman longing for a child. What would it say about us if the well of creativity has run dry? What if there is nothing left this time? Is it not better to rest on the successes of the past?

Then there is the fear that even if writing happens 'successfully' the writing itself will have no real value, that it won't matter for anything in the long run. For the Christian, there is always that question lurking in the shadows, "Is what I am doing worthwhile in an eternal sense?" And this question, while valid and important in an age wholly given over to trivialities and the desperate search for novelty, keeps us in doubt as we approach our craft. Doubt of this kind will slow our thoughts and inspiration to a trickle, and knowing this, we fear even more.

I could go on and on, but the point here is pretty clear - nature often catches us up and gives a sense that there is something other than ourselves. From these examples, it is a quick jump over to William Wordsworth, who codified the otherness of nature in his epic, "The Prelude" where he recounts times of physical illness and euphoria in response to his experiences in nature. All of these poets look at nature and sense something greater than and different from themselves. Where this gets interesting for me is that a common view of this experience is to say that religion has invariably sprung from a culture's association with nature. People and cultures, critics say, attempt to explain  the vastness of nature by creating myths telling how the nature around them came to be and how to live in harmony with it. The theory is that the cradle of all religions is a desire to connect with and find explanations for an overwhelming experience (often a terrifying one) in nature.

One of the questions that most frequently rattles through my head is, "What is the purpose of fiction?" Actually, I wonder this about all art, but quickly dart into the fiction corner for fear of overwhelming myself. A related question has to do with the place of story. Story is not always fiction, and for me that's where things get a little muddled. Story lets us experience the life, the thoughts, the existence of someone else. The most effective stories welcome us in to such a level that they move us as we observe characters' actions and feelings. Many things can do this and some are extremely specific to the reader. Nostalgia, poignancy, and shared experiences jump out as examples of this. A reader's and a writer's cultures also affect this process greatly. Nevertheless story has always been a bedrock of each people-group and culture throughout history.

I understand, at least more than I do with fiction the importance of story. But fiction is a crazy concept. Here's why: It starts with a drive or urge inside someone to express an idea, an urge strong enough to compel that person to spend a long time thinking, planning, evaluating, and finally writing something down. Through the miracle of creativity, once vague or disconnected observations coalesce to form a coherent, meaningful, and hopefully understandable piece of work. This piece of work is unified throughout and is inextricably tied to the writer's world-view. In addition to all that, when well done, it can be a thing of beauty. That astounds me. The creative process runs its course and results in a beautiful contribution to the voice of humanity. That God would allow beauty to stem in such a way from a corrupt people is truly amazing.

But that's not even the best part. Take this beautiful labor of love and consider that it speaks to the experience of another soul who reads or hears it. A work of fiction can be paradigm shifting for the reader. The ideas, the flashes of insight, and the questions that percolated in the writer are able to effect change, stretch ways of thinking, and challenge the world-views of those who read it. Lives have been changed by reading fiction, both for good and for evil. Well written fiction can be terribly powerful, able to alter the course of a life, or even of history.