It all started about two years ago.

While running in a nearby neighborhood, I began praying and thinking through goals for 2017. My thoughts meandered to the writing segment of my life. Should I continue to write? My husband has always encouraged me to keep writing, so I knew what his vote would be. But I didn’t want to keep doing the same things over and over without improvement. I thought, “Perhaps if I attempt to write a collection of writings on the same topic, that would exercise my writing muscles in a new way.”

And so the idea of a book—”a collection of writings on the same topic”—was born.

I cried the first time I thought about attempting to write a book. It was a scary prospect. I nervously mentioned the idea to Jonathan. He told me to go for it.

A couple of months later, while eating tacos in Texas with my husband and our friends, they asked if I had any writing goals. With great insecurity, I told them I wanted to try to write a book. To my shock and surprise, they didn’t laugh. Instead, they asked good questions that made me think and offered feedback when I told them about my potential topic.

But then the actual writing began.

As I attempted to work on a book, I was homeschooling two children and taking care of a newborn and a 3-year-old. We had recently moved, Jonathan was knee-deep at work in his dissertation, and the idea of me scuttling away to work on a book that I didn’t have to write (in contrast to my husband who did have to finish his writing) just seemed. . . well, unimportant. Laundry, cooking, and childcare seemed like more of a worthy task to occupy my time and brain space.

Besides, I could see noticeable results from housework whereas my writing seemed like a black hole—lots of time going in with nothing coming out.

But my burden for this book project (which I had named Come to Jesus) was still there. In fact, it was growing. I had so many conversations with people during this season where I would find myself sharing the message of my book without ever using the word “book.” It was a burden the Lord had given me and one that was coming out of my mouth whether I wrote about it or not.

I didn’t like the burden.
I felt pressure to write. Not pressure from others, but pressure from my Father. I cried one night and asked him to take the burden away—to give it to someone who was a better writer and had a bigger platform. He didn’t take it away.

Some days later, I had a thought: If God asked me to do anything else, would I be hesitating this much? Would I be responding with such stubbornness?

I couldn’t think of another thing the Lord had asked me to do where I had resisted as much as this. So why was I resisting now? Why was this such a big deal?

It was during a Saturday morning run that the Lord revealed the root of my disobedience. I was listening to a book and these two sections jumped out at me:

“Part of humility means trusting God with our plans and submitting to the possibility that they will not be fulfilled.” 

“If we limit ourselves to work only when the signs are promising, we limit our ability to see God at his best.
We are still relying on our ability to make all the right decisions.”

– Hannah Anderson in Humble Roots

Instantly, I knew why I was resisting God’s will.
I didn’t want to publish a book because I didn’t know how it would turn out.
I wanted guaranteed results.
I didn’t want to go out on a limb and try something new for God when other people might think that it was stupid—or that I was stupid.

Earth to Christa: Life is not all about me.

I had made this book project all about me. As a result, I didn’t want to work on it.

God reminded me that this was his idea in the first place. He gave the idea to me and he was going to give me the strength to carry it out. But I needed to die to myself and submit to my Father.

When I submitted to God’s plan, everything changed.
When I stopped constantly evaluating my actions through the grid of, “But what will people think about this?”, God enabled me to actually write. words. on. the. page.

And here we are: approximately one week away from the launch date/book birthday of Come to Jesus.

So, Why Did I Write a Book?

I wrote this book because I wanted to obey God. And I want obedience to my Father to be more important than anything else.

Come to Jesus is not about me. It’s about God. I mean, I get it—I’m the one who wrote it. But it’s no more about me than John the Baptist’s preaching was all about him. Not that I’m putting myself on parallel with John B. But in a way, I guess I am. Both of us are heralding the good news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. And both of us are insistent in the declaration of, “He must increase; I must decrease” (John 3:30).

I am so glad that God didn’t take this burden away from me. I’m so glad he knows better than I do. I had so many sweet times with my Father as I sat in a chair, typing out the different ways he has reminded me to come to him through times of unbelief, loneliness, and grief.

The Lord used this writing process to make me more like his Son. And, in essence, that’s why I wrote it.
I wrote it because I want to be more like Jesus.
And I’m publishing it because I want you to be more like him too.