Words are the heartbeat of my life. I cannot remember a time before them, nor can I escape their captivating power. I find words life-giving in all forms, whether I’m reading them, listening to them, or writing them myself. They are capsules in time that keep living, breathing, and multiplying long after we are gone. This summer I have been grinding out page after page on an exciting new writing project. It’s a large undertaking and one I wish was moving along at faster pace. I am trying to be patient. It’s summer and you have four kids, I remind myself. I have a tremendous amount on my plate already, on top of enjoying a break and trying to rest before homeschooling resumes in the fall.
But with this project, I sense an urgency. Despite the fact that I really have no clue what I’m going to do with all I’m writing at the moment, I feel that both the topic and the season for it’s relevancy are ripening. For many years I have studied the Bible far more intensely than I needed to. It’s not my job. No one expects it of me. Still I have devoted innumerable hours to learning, compiling volumes of notes, much of which has never seen the light of day. I am still uncertain what purpose any of it will truly serve. At times it can feel like a waste. I’m not a pastor or Bible teacher. I have no plans or desire to become the next Beth Moore or Jen Wilkin. My approach is not marketable, nor do I hold a perspective that appeals to wide audiences. There are plenty of other worthwhile things I could spend my time on.
So what good is any of this if it never goes anywhere? Never touches anyone outside my own small sphere? Why study all this stuff so few people seem to care about? I’ve prayed over these questions for years. I’m grateful for what I’ve learned and how it’s changed me, but I never seem to know where to go beyond that. Thus far, the Spirit has given me very few concrete answers. All I know is that I’m not suppose to stop. He urges me onward. He supplies me more words. Sometimes to read. Sometimes to study. Sometimes to write. Always to grow. So I remain sensitive and soft, lifting the heavy load as a student of scripture. I trust He’s preparing me for something. I’ll know when the time comes.
In the days before his death, our Lord also spoke of times to come. He said when we hear of uprisings and rumors of wars, not to be frightened. These things must happen first, but the end doesn’t come right away. Jesus instructed his followers to neither obsess over the signs leading up to his revelation, nor to foolishly dismiss them. He said to be faithful, prepared, strong, at-the-ready. While the news cycle would have us think we are one day away from gloabal catastrophe and the Church would prefer we sidestep the news altogether, I try to ask a different question. Am I using discernment, listening with the ears of scripture? How acutely do I hear the words of the prophets echoing through time? How vigilant am I to notice the patterns they spoke of repeating again and again? Have I devoted myself enough to understanding them?
It seems both the western world and western Church skirts around a season it does not recognize. Bombs just dropped from stealth aircraft. The oppressed run from the sword on every continent. The earth splits apart and floods open as creation groans on, heavy under the weight of it’s offense. But it’s an easy swipe of the screen to oblivion. No one cares what I’m studying or if I write any of it down. I could very easily disappear into the magical life of summertime in Door County or lose myself in the juggle of everything else on my plate. No one would blame me. No one is coming for me, pounding on my door, asking me for fresh drafts and new materials.
But the words come. Never when I expect them, never how I imagined them, but they always come. The Spirit brings them, sets them before me, and waits for my response. I can ignore Him. I can dismiss the inspiration He brings, put study off, and talk myself out of writing any of it down. Or I can be faithful and answer His questions: Did you feel the prophetic shockwave of those bombs bounce off your heart? Does the cry of the refugee stir you to remember the great exodus from Egypt that I led? Do the birth pangs of the earth, that all-familiar wave of labor, surge through your own dusty bones too?
Noah lifted his voice. The Watchmen cried out on the walls. The virgins filled their lamps. Maybe it’s all rumors, all just more knots in the tapestry of redemption that will remain tangled in the days ahead. Maybe the long, aching exile of all humanity continues. Or maybe it’s the Shadow of Messiah. We cannot know the hour or the day. We can only watch for the season.
So I will write until there are no more words, or wars, or rumors of war. In a world that is easily lulled into deception and distracted by the futile, may the words of our Master give us life and blessing, now and always:
People will faint from terror, apprehensive of what is coming on the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. At that time they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with power and great glory. When these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.
Luke 21:26-28
Blessed is the one who reads the words of this prophecy, and blessed are those who hear, and who keep what is written in it, for the time is near.”
Revelation 1:3
Two Precious Stones 