Do my words speak life or death? Do they teach the ones who listen? Do they comfort the feeble-minded? Warn the unruly? May I never speak an empty word.
Writing is much like cooking. I use the raw ingredients of words, season them with grace, and present them to the partakers. I want you to savor the idea, to wince at the peppery truth, to delight in the harmony of flavors. I want you to taste and see that He is good. I want to lay out the cloth napkins of love and invite you to my table so you know you are welcome at His.
I wish to compose and garnish these words in a way that says Friend, you must listen! Do not stop with my words. You will be hungry for other meals, for novelties and sustenance. Go on, search the libraries of truth, but do not pass by the stories written on hearts, the ones too raw to scratch out in ink. There is a Word too supreme, too awesome, and much too enjoyable to miss. This Word is etched on hearts of flesh. It is printed on paper and shouted in the heavens.. Oh, don’t miss Him. The words, the bread and wine, the milk and honey, they all exist for Him and because of Him.
So I will put pen to paper and cursor to line, only because He sees, and I want to bear witness.
