The magazine I’m working on now is my 30th.
That’s 30 production cycles of challenges, frustrations, creativity on a deadline, fear of writer’s block, fear that people won’t respond to emails, fear that ideas won’t pan out, fear that the photo resolution simply won’t suffice for print; fear that plan C will crumple too, just like plans A and B crumpled; and on and on.
But it’s 30 cycles of prayer, too. And 30 cycles of God’s demonstration of faithfulness, kind of like tiny notes slipped to me when I need them most:
- “Here, try this . . .”
- “Remember that conversation in passing you had weeks ago . . .?”
- “That email you received, you know the one . . .”
It’s 30 cycles of going to bed each night with a nagging unsolved detail on my mind and waking in the morning with a solution.
It’s 30 cycles of evidence that God still deals in manna.
And this is what manna looks like:
A coach going the extra mile for me and jumping through hoops to secure that perfect photo. Thank you Scott Wilson.
A colleague from financial aid promptly responding to my questions about scholarship recipients when in fact, weightier problems press on her daily. Thank you Hollie Fike.
It’s someone who has more on his plate than I can even imagine, always returning my plea for help with, “Sure, I can get that for you.” Thank you, BJ Schneck and Tom Ackerman.
It’s someone who values precise language and double checks the preciseness of my writing no matter his own workload. Thank you, Ben Wayman. And thank you especially Rachel Heston-Davis.
It’s generous response after generous response from students, alumni, faculty , and staff to my requests for more information. The list here goes on and on. Sometimes I open an email and, like Sarah in Genesis, laugh out loud at the riches God has given me to work with–thoughtful responses and vivid descriptions. Blessings wash over me. One moment I stood in a creative wilderness without a clue how to proceed. The next moment I stand drenched in God’s goodness–words I can use, an idea or angle, a new perspective, something to try.
But here’s the catch: He parcels the goodness out in bite-sized pieces morning by morning, email by email, little conversation by little conversation. Maybe He knows I couldn’t handle one big dump of solution. Then again, maybe He delights in our frequent meetings.
At least that’s how the creative process works for me. Manna.
Top photo: The Miracle of Mana (detail) by Jacopo Tintoretto (Robusti) is in the public domain.
Morris Sampler 