2 Corinthians 3: 2-3, “You yourselves are our letter,
written on our hearts, known and read by everyone. You
show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not
with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on
tablets of human hearts.”
A gentleman I spoke with told me of his desire to
write. He said he found it painful and hard to get things on paper. I agreed
with him. The thing is he gave up. He still has a desire to write but is afraid
in some way of how challenging it is.
Perhaps you will agree that writing is challenging.
It can indeed be hard to put words to paper at times. It can even be bit scary.
On the other hand, it is also alluring. It captivates those called to write in
an almost teasing seduction. It is as if the words in our mind and heart dare
us to write them down. Writing can be oh so cheeky.
My reason to write may not sound the most spiritual.
I write because I have to. When I was a boy and young man I was quite
withdrawn. I would only talk with certain people. I found it hard to trust
people. I wasn’t sure if I could confide in anyone. Perhaps not only was my
introversion holding me back but also I was shy. I’m not as shy now but I do
tend to be introverted. It can still take me a while to get to know people and
them to know me.
Writing has helped me gain confidence about my place
in God’s world. For years words swam around in my head almost screaming to be
let out. All they wanted was for them to be listened to. They wanted to comfort
readers and give them hope. The tricky thing is they wanted me to be their
spokesman and scribe.
As I was growing up I came to a realization the words
screaming in my head were part of me. I realized I also needed comfort and hope.
The words locked in my head wanting to get out would speak for me and to me.
I write because I am given the time, health and
ability to do so. That will come to an end some day. A couple of days ago I was
reminded of the brevity of life. A woman my wife has known for a few years died
of a massive heart attack. I won’t go into details but it is one of the saddest
situations I have ever heard of. Oh, what fragile creatures we are.
The situation I just mentioned brought home to me how
final our ending is in this life. It caused me to reflect on why I write and
also what I want to write. I write because I love to. I write because my mind
and heart and hands are healthy. I write for my words often cause me to weep
over the frailty of people. I write because there are stories that must be
told. If I don’t write them, who will?
While
we have our moments in this life, let us write. While we may have different
writing “voices”, let us write. While our hands and fingers listen to our mind,
let us write. While our hearts are open to God’s call, let us write.
My
dear friends, we are written on the heart of God. We are His. He knows our
stories. God has called us to write. That is wonderful and true.
I have read some of the posts for this month. I come
away thankful we are in this calling together. Dear readers and fellow writers
you are written on my heart. I love your words. Know too that I love you.
