Blank

There is a blank word document pulled up on my computer in front of me.

It isn't to be filled with words on Cato (although I could now that I have read it). It's not to fill with consolidated notes to act as a study guide for this thursday's Latin America midterm. It's not to fill with me.

If it were to be a document of my thoughts, it might as just stay blank.

Because honor as it is to be asked to speak to this ministry that I love, it's not about what I think.

The white emanating from my screen is offensive to my eyes as I sit in this dark living room.

I don't have anything to say.

But there are some things that need to be heard. First and foremost by me.

Then, by the grace of God, there are things that need to be heard by our little ministry that could.

I say by God's grace because the truth is that the white space terrifies me. I don't want to be offensive in my words, I don't want to come across as high and mighty and the Lord knows that I don't want to get up there and act like I have my act together. I don't.

Neither does the BCM.

I want to have it together. The body of students I will be speaking with wants to have it together. But wanting just isn't enough.

Wanting to have something to say Tuesday night doesn't mean that I do.

Wanting to know how put my thoughts into a conversation doesn't mean that I can.

Wanting to just move on doesn't mean that we just can.

It has somehow got to happen.

It won't be on my own initiative. I won't be through my best intentions.

Somewhere between where I am and where I want to be, somewhere between where the BCM is and where it wants to be, is a humble, broken acknowledgement that I, we, simply do not know best.

I don't have the words. We don't have the answers.

Never mind my intention. Never mind expectations. Never mind my inadequacy. Never mind our disfunction.

All of that keeps "Document1" blank. Feeling inadequate and disfunctional keeps me from writing at all. Intention and expectation has me writing all the wrong things. Leading to a bunch of backspacing.

Oh I have things I could say. I have all sorts of thoughts circling my head, being chased by little blue birds.

Left to myself, I, simply, am drawing a blank.

But it is not about me.