Lord, I have been letting down my nets all night long. I have spent my life catching fish since I learned. Last night I took nothing. I know the waters are still the same as they were when I finally took the nets out to wash them.
I didn’t sleep much the night my painting needed to be finished, but I chose to sacrifice some rest because I felt well settled in my work, it was the right thing to toil for. Something has been growing in my mind, a conviction that I need to push hard and pursue a strong voice, a legitimate presence as an artist. I am scared to truly be one. I want to protect my vulnerable pride because I know how few people do it well and actually succeed, I want to comfortably continue in my work without the tears of frustration, the hours of sleeplessness and the many, many, many canvases I might have to discard or scrape down or leave behind because they simply are not true depictions, hard as I tried.
But at your word I will let down the nets.
I am still weary though, God – because I do not know where the future goes. Because I have already spent my energy, because I’ve seen that my present knowledge and talent is merely the dribbling infancy of good Art. Because I am learning things from three different disciplines at the same time, and I can barely grip those as tightly as I must in order to make it worthwhile. Every night I stay awake late, and rise early from mouth-wateringly blind sleep to finish a task, which was replaced by another before the first was even completed. I summon more strength, then more, then more, but the world has still not been satisfied.
‘And he said, “Go again,” seven times.’ [1 Kings 18.43]
So have mercy on me, my God who witholds no needful thing from me. My obedience feels limp but I will put out into the deep, even after I’ve fished all night.
And when they had done this, the nets were breaking and the boats were starting to sink….