The concept of journaling means different things to different people. For a long time, it was just a recommended spiritual practices — write a little, pray a little, read a Scripture, move on. As a teen following Jesus, journaling came naturally, but I stayed on the surface. A paragraph or two. The things I thought were “worthy” to bring to God. Things from the short list that qualified as “spiritual concerns”.

While my journaling has grown and evolved, it changed the most dramatically in 2023, when I studied The Artist’s Way. Our little group actually did the practices, and one that changed me most was morning pages: three longhand pages, first thing in the morning. Not polished or interesting. Just a brain dump. Clearing the mental clutter and quieting the inner critic.

When I tacked morning pages onto the beginning of my devotional time, the first thing they gave me was space. I could get it all out with no constraints or performance — all my mixed-up feelings about mixed-up situations. And as I wrote, I found myself naturally slipping in and out of prayer, as if the unburdening itself was being directed toward Him.

My sister-in-law once said that things start coming together around page 1½. Once the surface noise is out, what’s underneath begins to rise: Why do I react this way? Why does this person make me anxious? What am I really hoping for — beyond this week?

Past the judging critic, honesty becomes natural. Morning pages weren’t designed as a spiritual practice, but they spoke deeply to me about the presence of God — that this is a place where I can be unfiltered without fear. A place where I’m met, at the core of me. Guided. Steadied.

Once I started doing morning pages, it’s like I started opening more and more of my life to You. Which is probably why I feel more integrated now than before. — My Journal, 5/15/24

Morning pages do get us to the other side: the other side of our fear, of our negativity, of our moods. Above all, they get us beyond our Censor. Beyond the reach of the Censor’s babble we find our own quiet center, the place where we hear the still, small voice that is at once our creator’s and our own. — Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way

As I write my pages, I find myself sinking deeper into Him almost without noticing — sorting through the noise, feeling the press to surrender, and eventually resting in His nearness. Prayer and writing knit together. At some point, the line between “my pages” and “His presence” disappears.

Morning pages bring me into the Secret Place. All the benefits that Cameron describes — clarity, gentleness, courage, quiet — are the benefits of being with God.

This practice has been slowly dissolving the boundary between the natural and the spiritual for me. Everything I feel or encounter becomes part of the conversation with God — another doorway back to Him.

The brain-drain is essential. My head is so noisy; I have to get it all out, quickly and thoroughly. And when I do, there’s space to listen. Space to read the Word. Space for peace.

Morning pages don’t replace prayer or Scripture — they usher me into them. They lower the static until I can hear again, carrying me to the quiet place.