Surrounded by books with notes in the margins. Legal pads with barely readable notes scribbled on them. Blank computer screen.
Slowly the words begin to find their place on the screen. At first the words and sentences come slow, but eventually the sentences start to form and the sentences begin to make paragraphs. As fingers move across the keys, thoughts, ideas, and bits of worship pour out that you never knew existed inside of you. Jokes appear that you think are hilarious, and then you delete them because you realize nobody else is going to know what it means. You proofread, and proofread, and proofread. You get someone else to proofread. You proofread again. And again.
Soon you are done. There is nothing else you can say, though you may think of a few illustrations or teachable points you could include, but it may take another 2-3 pages, and you don’t want to do that . . . to anyone.
After sitting back and relaxing, you realize: you don’t have a clean shirt to wear when you preach.