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Prayer For The Inner Editor


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Dear God.  There's this voice inside me that knows all the rules.  I think it would make a really good Pharisee with a Phylactery between its eyes.  In that little leather box would be every book on writing I ever read.  

Trouble is, to tell the truth, it's getting in the way.  Some of the hoops it is asking me to jump through are using up time, chewing holes in my freedom, crumbling used coffee grounds into my creativity.  

Lord, I want to break all the rules.  I want to smash that Phylactery and crush it under foot and set all my exclamation points and adverbs to soar on the updraft of the furnace of Your Holy Spirit.  I want to write the worlds longest run on sentence. 

You are the original Rule Breaker.  You heal people on the Sabbath and You walk through doors and You welcome sinners into the Holy of Holies.  Please may I have help breaking the rules this month?  Please fill me with that ridiculous, preposterous, delinquent joy where words tumble over each other, maybe even syllables, nonsense that expresses more than what can be measured and regulated.  

I know You live abundantly between the opposites.  Draw me there. Please.


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