Two stories, one lens

Journeys of two Christians writing for His glory

Dear readers,

This is a special collaboration between Adebola from Quality Time and Sakina from Feminine Church Girl.

Story one: Adebola’s POV

How do I forget the faces that once beheld me with such admiration? Some of them, squealing in delight, will leave me with encouraging comments such as, “Good job! Keep it up.” “Don’t stop writing, girl.” Uh-oh! What do you mean you sat and read through these cringe-worthy, happily-ever-afters tucked in the middle of a 60-leaves exercise book? Well, to give myself some creative credit, I had some of my books designed with cutouts from magazines and whatnot. Yet, what a reputation they earned me! 

I was in high school when I discovered a hidden treasure—I had a storytelling ability. Now, I grew up talkative, as it were, so telling stories was second nature. But precisely, what I found out was that I could write (stories). Being a typical “grammar-smart, not as math-smart” kind of girl, essays and everything in an English textbook interested me. Moreover, coming from a world of words–having an avid-reading father and grandma, a prolific-writing uncle, and a big-time newspaper-dealing grandfather, the apple truly doesn't fall far from a tree, does it? 

However, as I began to develop my imaginative ability, my mind was sponsored by the intriguing world of silly rom-coms, fairytales, and fantasy. And guess what? About eight stories (though unpublished) came as a result before I clocked 20. So what if Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water? I could orchestrate an enthralling chemistry, such that maybe Jack doesn't need to fall down, break his crown, and Jill tumbling after. Or even if he did, it was so he could be Jill’s knight in shining armor. 

Back then, some of my schoolmates would go as far as to donate me new exercise books to foster this perceived creativity and query me if I stalled. Then, I’d write—fiction stories as predictable as ever, yet I managed to weave and tweak to give them some form of the Midas touch. Well, you could say Adebola’s touch because someone once told me, “I would read anything Adebola writes.”

Sadly, after a while, I couldn’t make a head or tail out of what once had me so fascinated. Graduating highschool and parting ways with my first ever-supportive audience, the motivation to write followed suit in the goodbyes. Although some of them suggested using online platforms to keep in touch with my creativity, but in that season, writing was the least of my problems. The state of my soul was in turmoil, the utter helplessness of a life without God gnawing at me. Conviction. 

Next, I came to know my Saviour, and the entire trajectory of my life took a turn I never thought would be good for me holistically—Death to life, physical to spiritual, natural to supernatural, slave to child. With old things now passed away and all things new, I began to lean into the pursuit of intimacy with God one day at a time. 

Then, it happened that I got more than an idea–I got a call. To write. Again. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, the surge of familiar adrenaline was met with a ready system of regulation—the Holy Spirit’s conviction.

 “Yes, you'll be writing again, but nothing like you did before.” 

Huh? 

This was a call, not just a hobby. Impact, not just entertainment. Yahweh is both author and audience—the center of my life, and not just a part of it. At first, it was a hard pill to swallow. Nevertheless, when I yielded to this call to write in His name and for His glory, my blog, Quality Time, was born. 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Story two: Sakina’s POV

My past teachers will tell you I was a brilliant girl. I am not mentioning this to brag but to provide perspective. Whichever subject it was- Science, Math, Physical Education, Home Economics, or Spanish, I aced it. This unlocked several possible doors to future career paths (not that I knew which one to step through.) Doors leading to a life as a teacher, lawyer, scientist, cardiologist, or any other word ending in er and ist. Yet, it never crossed my mind to become a writer. Why would it? I was never the journal-keeping, book-reading, daughter-of-authors type of girl. 

I can remember writing two things well. The first was a descriptive piece for an English Language class. We were tasked to use 500 words to describe a person. When I was through detailing my character, you could sketch him down to the crusty skin on the back of his left elbow.  

The second noteworthy piece was an article I wrote for my travel blog. Readers, mostly family and friends, were transported to -15 degrees Canada for my first snow experience. They laughed about my tumbling over in an ice rink. They sympathized when they learned about my frostbitten fingers after a day of snowshoeing. Based on the crowd of cyber applause I received and what little knowledge I had of writing, I gathered it was an excellent piece (especially for a non-writer.) It would have been amazing if the article were still available for viewing. However, I began the project in the middle of the pandemic when planes weren’t taking off, and neither did my blog. 

Even after this project, I didn’t believe there was a writer in me. But the Lord knew otherwise. He called me and appointed me to bear fruit. Or, in this case, articles on Feminine Church Girl. 

The call was loud and clear. And like nothing I have experienced before. 

It’s a typical Wednesday in Brown’s Town, Jamaica: glorious weather, shouting taxi drivers, and reggae music in the background. I am in a church’s Fasting Service, feeling extremely hungry- not because of the fast. I had already inhaled my egg and bread earlier that morning. This emptiness I feel is a cry for help, yearning for guidance and direction from the Almighty God. 

Then, I hear the voice of God. 

For some of you, this might sound surreal, so let me add context. There is no big rumbling thunder or a majestic sound coming from the heavens. God delivers a message through the pastor, Reverend Hunter—a short, dark man with a good sense of humor and fashion. I hadn’t visited the church much for them to know about my third significant (but not as impressive) encounter with words. It came in the form of a guidebook I published on Amazon a few months prior. A mere 24 pages of methods I used to improve my life during my lowest point and wanted to share with others. “Repeat affirmations, journal your thoughts, pray...”

I stand in the church with my cup turned up and an earnest desire to hear from God. “Church, I dunno, but I see this girl writing,” Reverend Hunter declares. Turning to me, he continues, “The Lord revealed to me that you will write, and your words will inspire people.” 

God has anointed this pastor with the gift of prophecy, one of the spiritual gifts mentioned in 1 Corinthians 12. The news of my previous writing explorations is foreign to him, as is the news of my future with words to me. Yet, at this moment, I know I have the answer I seek. I receive a gift—a call to a ministry in written words. These are the words that show up in your inbox—written for God’s glory. 

Photo by Shelby Miller on Unsplash

One Lens

 Need we mention that on this journey of writing as believers, we have been through dealings—learning, unlearning, and relearning? Motives have gone through evaluation and purification. How about the enemy of our souls? Will he stop at the lie—masked as weariness and imposter syndrome? But you know what? Our newsletters are testimonies of how God preserves a call to do something for His glory. 

Whether you’re like Adebola, who recognized her talent early in life, or Sakina, who only recently made the discovery, you can use your gift to honor God.

Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. James 1:17 ESV