Resurrecting The Buried Life in our Writing

by Emme Gannon @GannonEmme

When we sit to write, we’re challenged to let our minds go to that place of wonder that lies in the deep crevices of our hearts. The “Buried Life,” (a term coined in a poem by Matthew Arnold,) is waiting to be rescued from the prison of political and social correctness. The freedom to write truth in books, articles, and speak in the public forum can lose its luster through the busyness of keeping up with social media and the constant flow of disturbing news. 

The buried life was once free to explode from our psyche and burst forth in prose, its message strengthened by community and fellowship in the church. With that fellowship now limited, our soul is robbed of the nourishment of assembly with fellow believers—social interaction that is meant to infuse us with energy and meaning. We begin to look inward and are afraid of what we see. We may start to doubt ourselves and the words that have been given us. In the back of our minds, words still struggle to come forth, only to often be squashed by our fear of approval or, worse yet, disapproval. 

We need a resurrection of sorts, a transformation of what we think we know to be true to what is really true. A miracle that transports us back to the tomb, where Jesus lay, His lifeless body proof that all was over. And then it wasn’t. A miracle happened and He rose again, His sacrificial death giving new and eternal life to we who believe. Believing, adhering, and clinging to this reality causes our soul to rise and crack open the door beyond natural man’s three dimensions and five senses. We untangle the ropes that have bound us and darkness is eradicated by light that illuminates a bold new realization of just who we are through Christ. 

As writers, we are emboldened to dip our toe in the world of the impossible, where a scullery maid can be turned into a princess, beautiful enough to besot a prince. A world where our purpose can be realized against all odds, because our reality is built on Someone greater than ourselves, not the dictums of a new world order, whatever that may look like. We become who we were meant to be, write the words we were meant to write, say and do the things God ordained for us in the time and place He ordained us to be.

Entering into a world we cannot see is not the easy route. It is wrought with rapids and mountains blocking our view. The road is never straight. Loneliness, fear, and ridicule by others often beset us. As was true with Noah, so we will be mocked for who we have chosen to follow and the moral standard which rules our words and deeds. As we continue to build the arc with our words, the sun may still shine and the mocking intensify. Fear not. It will rain. Because He who created and holds the world together is in control. We don’t have to shake our finger and promise the mockers their sordid outcome. Instead, we obey Him and look up. And do the work He has called us to do. Until that day when He takes us to the eternal home He won for us on the cross.

“And there arrives a lull in the hot race

Wherein he doth forever chase

That flying and elusive shadow, rest.

An air of coolness plays upon his face,

And an unwonted calm pervades his breast.

And then he thinks he knows

The hills where his life rose,

And the sea where it goes.”

The last verses of poem, The Buried Life, by Matthew Arnold (1822-1888)

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Emme Gannon is a wife, mother, and grandmother who loves to write stories that stir the heart. Her award-winning writing has appeared in Focus on the Family magazine, several anthologies, and numerous newsletters. She just completed her first novel.