To say I am amazed doesn’t quite carry the wallop I want, so I turn to my British counterparts with their richer vocabulary. I am gobsmacked, flummoxed even. (Astounded, bewildered.) But mostly I am humbled.
My little book has sailed past the 2,000 mark. And I’m not doing a thing. I never expected it to sell, and I promise, I won’t keep updating you with boring sales figures. My intention isn’t to brag; it’s to let you know that I think God is doing something here. It’s definitely not me. I just write my blog and respond to invitations to speak or be interviewed by radio shows. But I’m not initiating any of it. No marketing. No publicity. No promoting.
Writing itself is grueling work, and it’s personal. In making myself transparent, it thrust me out of my comfort zone into a realm laden with insecurity. I would never have set myself up for that if I didn’t believe God called me to do it. With the faint hope that my book might encourage a handful of people, I offered it to God with open hands, asking Him to take my meager gift and do something with it. I wished for my book to become a catalyst to help people take the next step of faith – whatever and wherever that might be. And as I trusted Him to use my feeble words to infuse other people with courage, He also provided me with the perseverance I needed to see my task to completion.
You may think, what’s the big deal about selling 2,000 copies? It’s not like your book’s a best-seller. To me, it’s huge. It confirms that God can use anything – even We Wait You.
The average book in the U.S. sells only 500 copies and frequently a print-run for an unknown first-time author is only 2,000 copies. My book has exceeded both. I am in awe at what God is enfolding. He took my loaves and fish and He’s multiplying them. And I want to give glory to Him. Only to Him.