How to Know if You're Actually Called to Write

The relief of shifting from seeking tasks to receiving identity

"What do you want me to do, God?"

I've asked this question countless times, in anguish—especially about writing.

Should I be pouring my energy into building a platform? Was this where God wanted my focus? The anxiety would cycle endlessly: write more, grow (sort of), find my niche, serve my audience.

I was trying to generate fruit through effort, even though I thought I was asking God for direction.

Maybe you recognize this pattern.

The restless questioning about whether writing is your calling.

The pressure to figure out God's will for you, and your platform. The subtle panic that you might be wasting time on something He never intended for you.

Here's what I've learned: asking for tasks is easier than receiving identity because it requires less faith. We'd rather have a to-do list than sit vulnerably at His feet. So often, we want the fruit without establishing the roots.

But maybe God doesn't want you to do anything right now. Maybe He wants you to receive and listen and simply be with Him.

Maybe the question itself reveals we're putting the cart before the horse.

The Fruit-Focused Framework (Where Most of Us Start)

When we ask "Am I called to write?" many times, we're essentially asking "What fruit do you want me to produce, God?"

We analyze our skills, desires, and circumstances to determine our calling. We look for signs, study our passions, and try to reverse-engineer God's will from our current situation.

This is how most writing advice operates. It's all outcomes-focused. Build your audience, find your voice, create compelling content. These aren't wrong, but for Christians they're starting at the wrong place.

I know because I tried this approach. Years ago, I started a blog where I wrote about Christian topics—things I thought I should be writing about as a Christian. I had grown up in the faith and assumed that's what Christian writers do: they write Christian things.

But it wasn't sustainable. I didn't really have a well to draw from. Not that God is just a well we tap for content ideas, but I lacked the genuine encounter with Him that makes writing feel like natural overflow rather than manufactured output.

I was working toward an identity as a Christian writer rather than working from my identity as His beloved child. The entire pyramid was upside down.

The Root-First Reframe (Where We Should Start)

"I am the vine; you are the branches," Jesus said. "Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing" (John 15:5).

Notice the order: relationship first, then fruit. Abiding first, then productivity.

Everything changed for me when I was confronted with the gospel late in life—not just as doctrine I'd always known, but as living reality. I finally accepted the true gospel and the fullness of Christ's life in me.

Working from your identity as God's beloved child rather than working toward that identity flips your entire understanding upside down.

The mindset shifts from "What system must I follow to make writing work?" to "How do I spend time with Jesus and let identity emerge from relationship?"

Instead of analyzing and strategizing, I learned to do what Brother Lawrence called practicing the presence of God—recognizing that because Christ lives in us, He is with us in every moment, including our creative moments.

This isn't about compartmentalizing spiritual time from "real life" decisions about writing. It's about understanding that our calling flows from our relationship, not from our career analysis.

Why "Writer" Isn't Your Identity

If you’ve read this far, you probably have some pull toward writing. If you’re a writer, you’re a writer. You just know it.

But here’s something I want to convey very clearly: "writer" is a vocation, not an identity.

This distinction matters because the world teaches us to derive identity from what we do.

But for Christians, identity comes from whose we are.

Writer, teacher, plumber, CEO—these are all just ways we might express our true identity as God's beloved children.

You're not a "writer who happens to be Christian." You're a Christian who may happen to write as one expression of your identity in Christ. If God redirects you away from writing tomorrow, your worth and identity remain completely unchanged.

This removes the existential weight from the question. The goal isn't to become an influential writer or build a successful platform. The goal is to lift up Christ, who will draw all people to Himself (John 12:32).

This takes all the pressure off your performance and puts it where it belongs—on faithfulness to whatever He's placed in your hands.

When success becomes faithfulness rather than follower counts, the metrics anxiety dissolves. You're free to write from rest rather than striving.

The Simple Practice

So how do you actually discern what God has stirred in you regarding writing?

Well, the answer is not a formula—it's a relationship.

Here are four simple steps, though I hesitate to call them steps because this isn't mechanical:

Pray: Find a quiet place. Sit with your hands physically open—this posture of receiving matters more than you might think. Instead of asking "Should I write?" ask "Who do you say I am to you?" Ask what He wants you to know about your identity, not your task list.

Believe: Truly believe that God speaks to you personally. If you struggle with this, start there. Tell Him honestly about your doubt rather than pretending faith you don't have. "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him" (James 1:5).

Receive: Listen without analyzing or editing what comes. Don't dismiss thoughts that seem too simple or too grand. Receive whatever He offers about who you are to Him.

Walk: Move forward in that identity. If writing emerges naturally from who you are in Christ, you'll know. If something else emerges, follow that instead.

The key is building this muscle of discernment through daily communion with Him. Like any relationship, trust deepens through consistent time together.

Don't question every impulse—submit it all to Him and learn to recognize His voice through practice.

The Freedom This Brings

The beautiful truth is that the answer might not be writing at all—and that's perfectly fine.

Maybe God is calling you to serve in your community, invest more deeply in your family, or pursue something you've never considered. Maybe He wants you to write, but not yet. Maybe He wants you to write, but in a completely different way than you imagined.

Whatever He reveals about your identity will guide your next steps far better than any career assessment or passion inventory ever could.

The freedom comes from knowing that your worth isn't tied to getting the "right" answer about writing. Your calling—whatever it is—flows from who you are to Him. And who you are to Him is already settled: beloved, chosen, His own.

So spend time with Him today. Ask Him who you are. Listen for His voice. And then walk forward in the confidence that comes not from having all the answers, but from trusting the One who does.