I'm getting used to recognizing myself as a writer, but I hesitated to call myself a prophet. Recently, however, I read a column by John Connelly in Western Catholic Reporter reminding us that God has "appointed us to be a prophetic people. A people who shine the light on truth in the darkness of our times." Hmm, I thought, that does shed a different light on the matter.
There is a lot of darkness out there and Jesus pointed out the futility of lighting a lamp and putting it under a bowl. Instead we are to put our lamp on a stand, so "it gives light to everyone in the house."
God loved me from the beginning. Sometimes I need the visual of God literally knitting me together in my mother's womb. While knitting, God implanted dreams and gifts that he intended me to explore and use to his honour and glory. One of those dreams was writing.
At particular points in my life I've had glimpses of God's dream for me, but I've then let everyday distractions crowd these dreams out like weeds can crowd out flowers in my flowerbeds. Eventually, untended, the flowers in my garden become indistinguishable from the weeds. That's when it's time to do some serious weeding to get rid of those detractors, so I can once again see the dreams God has knitted into my being.
To do this I need to spend quality time with my maker. I need to be still and know that he is God. Being present, listening, sharing, respecting, honouring, adoring, praising, submitting: these are the protocol of love. In these days of independence, rights, freedom, and equality, submission is not a popular concept.
In My Utmost for His Highest, Oswald Chambers reminds us that even Christ "never spoke of his right to himself, but always maintained an inner vigilance to submit His spirit continually to his Father." Christ provided an example of how we must attune ourselves to God's Spirit. Knowing God has created our inmost beings, would it not be wiser and more effective to give our loving heavenly father "elbow room" to work in our lives.
Pray with me: Dear Lord, like David the psalmist, may we humbly and frequently ask you to examine our ways. May we give you room to work in and through us so our lives and our writing may say what you want us to say.