Mark Katrick faith column: Confronted with writer's block, Holy Spirit comes to the rescue

I love to write. Have you noticed by now how often I declare this to be a sure and uncertain fact in my columns? That’s because it is, and I do, I do, I do!

I love it when I awaken from a deep, beneficial sleep, with intervals of REM (that lead to dreams that come in layers as if someone is reading a story to me backward) — then walk right into words for The Advocate or the pulpit that are waiting for me to tap, tap, tap away at my keyboard. I love it when they come fast and get in front of my head (but don’t love it when they get ahead of my heart).

But the kind of writing I’ve grown to love the best doesn’t get me and my two kitties up out of bed way too early. It doesn’t spirit nudge me to the computer to stream the first paragraph that makes everything else start to flow. It’s not when I’m having a cup of coffee, waiting for my brain to fully awaken. (I don’t drink coffee, in case you’re interested.)

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This kind of writing can be downright laborious and take up the better part of a morning, if not the whole day. It can be highly frustrating, yet deeply rewarding.

I’ll further explain, after I digress. Let’s you and I travel back to when the “Sears Wish Book” arrived in the mail this time of year. Mr. Machine was the all-time No. 1 on my wish list. Introduced by Ideal Toys in 1960, he’s a walking, ringing toy. His jaw moves up and down. Mr. Machine can be taken apart and put back together with a wrench made for that sole purpose. Each part is individually numbered for easy reassembly (easy for some).

I badly wanted one of these for Christmas and got what I’d ask for — until I took it apart and tried to put it back together. And there my Mr. Machine sat in a cardboard box, in so many pieces and parts. My human pride would not allow me to ask my father for assistance. He’d already helped me to assemble way too many model cars.

Every once in a while, the same process happens with a sermon. I write my Sunday messages several months in advance and don’t come back to them until it’s closer to the date of delivery. And then come the “Oh, my goshes” in droves. What was I thinking? Had my head taken over my heart?

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So I get out my sermons tool and disassemble. Then I begin to reassemble with energy and focus like a better-known toy, the Energizer Bunny.

I’d like to take some credit for these Herculean efforts, but it’s not mine to be had. Like my dad, the Holy Spirit comes to my rescue. No matter what kind of project we’re engaged or reengaged in, the Holy One gives us everything we need to get the job done.

So the next time you’ve disassembled something or the other and are sitting there staring at its open box, say a prayer, roll up your sleeves, take deep breaths; then let go and let God.

Mark Katrick is a pastor and spiritual guide.

This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Mark Katrick faith column: Confronted with writer's block, Holy Spirit comes to the rescue