Ryanne Molinari

This title really says it all.

Yesterday, I had a moment of angst. I was hard at work on my book proposal when my laptop began to act up again. I’ve been ignoring its quirks for months now and, finally, had to admit it was time for an update. My workflow was disrupted for the rest of the day and, as so often happens, one source of anxiety (such as a faulty laptop) gave way to other worries.

Is my book worthwhile? Is it helpful? Are my ideas clear?

The fact that all writers face these fears was little comfort. Today, though, I was encouraged in its most literal sense. I was filled with courage by the Spirit, working through the Word and worship to reinforce my calling and revive my hope.

My current nonfiction project is on cultivating musical worship and spiritual fruit. It finds its basis in Ephesians 5, which calls believers to “be filled with the Spirit” and to sing for the sake of fruitfulness. During today’s sermon at Prairie Bible, I laughed when I was told to open my Bible to Ephesians 5.

I can’t escape this passage. I imagine that if I were not supposed to write my book, I would not be continually directed back toward this crucial chapter.

At my “other church” (where I lead traditional worship before dashing to Prairie Bible), I was delighted to find that the closing hymn was “Fruitful Trees, the Spirit’s Sowing.” I shouldn’t be surprised since I select the hymns, but I picked these months ago, not knowing that I would desperately need to hear this hymn today.

Again, I can’t escape the fruit of the Spirit. Everywhere I turn, songs and sermons about fruitfulness abound.

Writing is arduous, but I will press on. I must. If I don’t, hearing such sermons and singing such songs will become unbearable. They would resound with a calling neglected, a vocation abandoned.

So I will heed their call, returning to my writing with renewed purpose and diligence.