Am I Creative?

I haven’t wanted to write lately. Well, that’s not entirely true. I want to write. I want to write for a living maybe. I want to be successful at it and be able to support myself at it. But every day I find a reason to avoid it or a way to distract myself from it. So I have to ask – what do I fear? Admittedly I’m in the midst of a creative struggle, one that’s lasted for years I’m discovering. I feel my heart is creative. I feel that’s where my passions are. I feel I have a creative side that has never been nurtured and never developed. I feel there is a whole side of me that has never made its presence known. Maybe there’s a “whole-er” me. This side of me that I believe exists is tied to a creativity I just feel I have. Who is the real me? Does my fear lay in that question? I think I’m a creative, but have nothing to prove it or to show for it. Do I fear that maybe, in spite of my felt passions, I’m not creative after all? Or am I afraid that I am creative, but will never do anything significant with it? Just like my love and desire to act. I’ve had that desire since I was in the 7th grade and discovered it in an elective drama class at school. I believe God made me with this desire. But nothing has ever come of it. I’ve had a strong desire to be married too, but nothing has come of that either. Perhaps I’m just wallowing in disappointment. So here’s the real question. Do I not try because I believe nothing will ever become of it? Do I fear and perhaps on some level believe that God has created me a certain way just to selfishly remind me that I need Him? Is God that kind of God? So when it comes down to it, my creative struggle is at some level, a theological one. Who do I really believe God is? I’ve bitched and complained to Him that He made me this way and angrily wondered why He would make me with certain desires, never to grant them. I’ve yelled. I’ve shouted. I’ve cried. I’ve begged and pleaded. I’ve also heard His small whisper to me saying, “Yes I made you this way. And I don’t make mistakes and I don’t play games. Stop complaining, look ahead and take some risks.” OK. But what risks? I don’t even know where to begin. My story needs an inciting incident. I need God to show me what kind of God He really is. But I think I need to take some risks for Him to do that. And I’m pretty sure that as soon as He does show me a glimpse of who He is, all my bitching and complaining will seem foolish and fall away. Like in “Till We Have Faces” by CS Lewis, my heart will discover that HE is the answer. I long for that day. In the meantime, well, writing this I suppose is a start.