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Journaling: Breathing space in the spiritual journey

Jan Johnson

I felt the pressure building as I griped at my son for breaking his lunchbox. A few days before, my husband Greg had been laid off for the third time, and every time something broke or wore out, I felt my tightly bound panic cut loose. I needed to quiet myself before I heaped more unfeeling words on my family.

Feeling felt drawn toward my bedroom, I finished preparing lunch and slipped onto my bed – not to sleep, but to pull out an untidy spiral notebook and spread my grief before God:

“God, I’m angry that Greg was laid off – he was the second top salesman! I’m angry that I don’t make more money. I’m angry that we live simply and spend money wisely but can’t afford to buy frozen pizza. Now, without Greg’s paycheque, I feel a gun in my back forcing me to make money appear magically. I know I need to trust You more, but I don’t like the way circumstances are forcing me into it.”

In our relationship with God, there are times when prayer seems too unreal but the concrete act of gripping a pen seems just right. It’s as if whatever is churning in us flows through the arm, cascades through the fingers into the pen and splashes onto the page. There it is for God to see, for us to see.

In that quiet space, we develop a conversation with God in which we offer our self-absorbed ideas and then allow them to become swallowed up in the goals God is cultivating in us. We confess the faults and mistakes that we find so difficult to admit elsewhere. We record flashes of insight and treasured moments of encountering God. The spiritual discipline of journaling moves beyond mere descriptions of events. It provides a place to ponder the pattern our lives are weaving. If a journal answers just one question, it is: What is God doing in my life?

Some of the Psalms David wrote seem to have functioned as David’s journal. When the Philistines seized David, he described these events in a typical journaling pattern. He began by stating what had happened: “Men hotly pursue me” (Psalm 56:1). He then recorded his feelings: “I am afraid” (Psalm 56:3). He expressed his desires to God: “On no account let them escape” (Psalm 56:7). Concluding with what may have been David’s way of being accountable to God, he revealed what he planned to do: “I will present thank offerings to You” (Psalm 56:12).

David’s hard honesty reveals that journaling is a place to pour out our anguish, think the unthinkable and presume to know what’s best. It gives us permission to ask God questions, to try out new choices, to be less than perfect. A journal becomes the arm of God embracing us and allowing us to look safely at feelings that overwhelm us and situations that don’t make sense.

In the safe haven of being able to make outlandish statements, we stumble across our true motives, feelings and desires.

I didn’t journal for many years because it sounded like too much work, but when crises erupted that I could not manage, I dug out an old notebook and began journaling. I established only one rule – it was private. When we write knowing that no one will read our words, we don’t worry about grammar or penmanship. With no audience to impress, we can be completely honest.

Although some people journal every day, I journal as needed – weekly, bi-weekly or monthly. I apply the same principle to it that Christ did to the sabbath: People weren’t created for their journals; journaling was created for people (from Mark 2:27). Seek God about possible journaling habits. Another person’s approach may not provide the reflection you need. Whatever the pattern, keep alert. When you feel the urge to confess, to grieve, to rejoice or to surrender, act on it.

Rereading our journals can amplify God’s voice as we note trends in how God has been working in our lives. The earliest pages of my journal are filled with thoughts of being unloved and undervalued. I begged for reassurance. Gradually those statements decreased, and I began to affirm that I am loved and valued by God even in my most disgusting moments. I am finally absorbing a truth that has eluded me for many years.

My journal itself has become one of the many symbols, the many proofs, that I cannot chase God away. Like a prodigal child, I can question God, rail at my enemies or languish in self-pity and still be welcomed back to the journal. After weeks of absence from my journal, I am not greeted with guilt. As soon as my pen touches the page, loving communication is flowing again in both directions.

Jan Johnson is a retreat speaker and the author of Enjoying the Presence of God.

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Last modified November 29, 2000.

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