A Dozen Dumpster Books, God’s Inspiration to Create

In my eyes, being a writer is being an artist. Creativity and inspiration must flow when writing from the heart.

I have to admit that 2019 has been full of difficult adjustments. I moved twice, feeling like a nomad for a while. Floating further into this state of limbo, I changed jobs. Though for the better, all the unknown change was like a lost grasp on what might last and what wouldn’t.

My mind, spirit, and body took a hit and I just couldn’t write from such muddled perspectives. Even my personal journaling was a lot of anxiety-ridden rants and irrational word-vomit for a time. I knew that to write again meant getting out of this pit. Not to mention, to enjoy life and be the best version of myself at all, required getting out of this pit.

Of course, I knew who my Savior was, there was no excuse not to have hope. To the core, I knew God was my constant, but looking back, I learn how easily we morph our circumstances into our definition of who God is. Justifying our quality of life with the quality of God’s goodness. At least I can say it was a great opportunity for God to purge this tendency from my heart and never get to that place again. Or at least be more conscious of its onset and learn from it.

I’m grateful for the seed of faith that brought me back to the constant, simple prayer asking the Lord to come to my rescue. I believed He would, but not knowing when, I had to rest in the waiting. Often, the hardest part is not receiving instant release (especially in this current world and being an impatient millennial).

IN HIS RESCUING ARMS I was taking an evening walk and I noticed a stack of 12 books set out by the dumpster. I continued on my walk as usual, pretty set on the idea that the books are, of course trash, considering they are feet from a dumpster. Though my curiosity grew. I walked and thought how they didn’t look like they were in terrible condition from where I noticed them, they even could’ve been new. But there’s no way someone would throw away perfectly good books, right? Maybe I’d just take a look at the titles on my way back.

Growing dark, I shined my flashlight over the stack of books. Most of their condition was better than what you’d find at Bookmans. Despite any germaphobic resistance here, the stack was placed on pavement with nothing more than dust and leaves (I’m a budget shopper but I don’t usually take on the dumpster-diver role, okay people). Money signs glossed over my eyes and I got excited to take these to Bookmans or other resale store at once! The college kid within me wondered how people throw potential money out the window just like that. My treasure now!

Reading the titles, however, I came to see the real treasure here. You’re about to understand how I’m sure an angel must’ve placed these just for me. The first title on the top wasn’t anything too special, “PhoDOGraphy”. But looking on, “The Power of Praying”, “Embraced By The Light”, “Reaching to Heaven”, “Flights of Angels”, “Your Body Can Heal Itself”, “WomanCare (AMA)”, “Furiously Happy”, “Change Your Life in 30 Days”, “Power to Grow Beyond Yourself”, and what stood out enormously was “Chicken Soup for the Writer’s Soul” (there was also one more natural healing guide book that my arms did not have the room for).

I dusted off these gems, scooped up the stack, and kicked my walk into high-gear back home. I was stunned with how spot on these titles were for me and how much God directs my path perfectly. When I have no idea what to do and I ask Him to show me, He does. He picks up where we left off like any good counselor or parent would after any set-back, and He shows me the way.

Their purpose might not have been to even read all of them. But to take note of how specific the titles were, and listening to God speaking to me through them. I carried the books back home and contemplated the previous owner of the books. I felt like I was carrying the burdens of that person, maybe going through similar things I was. I heard God remind me how He’s already carried all mine, that I’m never alone.

“Since we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.” (Hebrews 12:1)

These books might recreate and inspire the author in me the Lord keeps calling me to. If anything, He’s always recovering my potential, gifts, and joys that I forget about when life gets stressful.

“Resist him, stand firm in your faith, knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world.” (1 Peter 5:9)

This faithful God of ours heard my anxiety-ridden, desperate prayers. There weren’t (too much) trumpets blaring or fireworks going off at the rescue to start, but simply in the day-to-day healing, restoring, adjusting. Slowly I’d get settled into the right new place and my new life. Slowly I’d find joy restored in my days and get used to my new calling. I finally looked around at what was so unknown and terrifying before, and apologetically renounced the doubt I had in God’s plan. What was so terrifying and torturing before, revealed its necessity in my life. I thought everything going on was punishment or consequences for past mistakes. Not until I deemed these things essential and perfectly timed instruments for me, was I able to experience God’s love again. The fact that He orchestrates it all out of love, even when it doesn’t look or feel that way. He never backs down.

“Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.” (Exodus 14:13-14)

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