The Lost Grace of Writing

Or Trying Not to Listen to Bucky Dunstan.

writing

“Dragon” is a third-season episode in the animated series Bluey. Like many episodes of the Australian cartoon, this one is touching for many reasons, including the introduction of Chili’s late mother.

But the scene that is most touching to me is one involving Bluey’s Dad, Bandit. The episode opens with Bluey asking her father to help her draw and he shyly refuses. We learn later that when he was Bluey’s age he would practice drawing cars. Bucky Dunstan and fellow classmate made a very harsh critique of Bandit’s drawing. Bandit took it so personally that he gave up drawing altogether.

I have loved writing since I was little. Writing has always been a way for me to express myself and get my feelings out there. When blogs became a thing, twenty years or so ago, I fell headlong into writing on politics and religion.

And then, about five years ago or so, I started to find it hard to write. I would sit in front of my laptop for a while doing anything but writing. I used to wonder if my being on the autism spectrum made it difficult to write.

But actually, that was never the problem. The problem was Bucky Dunstan.

You see, Bucky Dunstan probably didn’t think he was doing anything big by telling Bandit that his drawing wasn’t good. But it had a big effect on Bandit, so much so that Bandit started to believe he couldn’t draw. He couldn’t help Bluey because he believed he wasn’t going to be of help to his daughter.

For me, it was former employers who would critique by tearing you down. You get intense criticism for any misspelled word. You would be told your writing wasn’t captivating enough and wondering if this job is really for you.

I wanted to do whatever I could to improve my writing. One of the things I did was add Grammarly to my laptop. Grammarly is a program that operates like a running spell and grammar check. It was great in helping me check my spelling, but Grammarly became like an AI version of Bucky Dunstan telling me that I’m not a good writer, that I wasn’t perfect. Writing, or attempting to write, had become law. I would now look at other writers and measure myself up to them and realizing that I wasn’t good enough.

This would lead back to staring at my Macbook or scrolling on social media, afraid to put finger to keyboard, worried that someone, somewhere would think my writing wasn’t good enough, that it was terrible and that I should be ashamed.

There was one place where writing was not as big an issue: writing a sermon. I normally write a manuscript to preach off of and when I write my sermon, how I used to feel before writing became a chore returns.

Why is that?

Maybe it’s because I’m not writing anything that someone will see. I think that’s part of the reason. But I think there is another deeper reason.

I think it’s grace.

I’m a pastor. In my role, I preach the word of God and the word of the Lord is one of grace. (Note that not all pastors preach grace, but I was “raised by Lutherans,” so preaching grace is part of my preacher package.) But pastors should be preaching what they most need to hear and I’m starting to think the reason is that I need to hear this message of grace. I need to hear this message because I’ve been told over and over that I’m not good enough, and not just when it comes to writing.

I am wondering, though, maybe there is good in not being the best writer out there. In 2 Corinthians 12:6-10, Paul talks about being given something from God that kept him from boasting. He refers to it as a thorn in his side, something he so wanted to have gone, but was never removed. God tells Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.”

I don’t think my writing is a thorn, but I do think my critics might have a point in that I’m probably not a great writer. And you know what? That’s okay. Because even if I’m not the next Leo Tolstoy, God somehow works through weak, imperfect me. My writing may never please my critics, but through God’s power it might reach someone who needs to hear a good word.

The hidden message about my writing not being good is to have a skill that you can boast about. The message in our world today is not about having a talent, but about having a talent you can boast about, something that sets you apart from everyone else.

But we already know what Paul thinks about boasting; it keeps the focus on you and not on God. Does that mean I shouldn’t improve my writing? No. But the point is that I shouldn’t have as my goal to boast on Facebook about how awesome my words are.

Towards the end of the episode, Dragon, Bandit end up making a drawing that saves the day. His drawing isn’t groundbreaking; he didn’t improve on his skills, but he cared less about what Bucky or anyone else thought.

I haven’t reached a perfect ending where I believe in myself and start writing wonders. But I am coming to a point where I want God to work through my imperfect writing, which makes me more willing to write again and less interested in what Bucky Dustan thinks. And as the old saying goes from the 80s GI Joe cartoon, that’s half the battle.