8 “Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.
9 And he said, Go, and tell this people, Hear ye indeed, but understand not; and see ye indeed, but perceive not.
10 Make the heart of this people fat, and make their ears heavy, and shut their eyes; lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and convert, and be healed” (Isaiah 6:8-10, KJV).
Send me . . . volunteering to spread God’s word unequivocally, perhaps naively, but an affirmation nevertheless. Acquiescing to be a prophet of God without realizing the consequences may be naïve. God’s prophets suffer. Yet suffering is the perfect cure for naiveté.
As a writer for God, you are volunteering to suffer. Your story, born of suffering, deepening your soul by scraping the depths of hell and bringing the flame of hope to the surface . . . to the world, can be a greater testament to faith than the recounting of a humdrum existence.
God picks those with a great capacity for suffering to be His prophets. So if you think you’re volunteering, you are—but from a preselected group. Remember to read the fine print in your contractual obligation to God; you will be shocked at what you find.
Does being a Christian writer mean I have to have the fate of a prophet? Maybe, but in any case, being a Christian means being willing to be symbolically crucified like Christ. How are you being crucified in your life? Write from your pain, letting your gut-wrenching emotions have a voice, honoring your volatile feelings by giving them expression, pouring them out on paper–creating a tapestry of tears.
Write with your pen of liquid tears; write with your pen of molten lava. Then fill your pen with the morning dew and inscribe a message of hope on your heart, hope that beats in rhythm to the heart of God: healing the world. And like Jesus, your world . . . and the world can both be reborn.
Photo Credit: Stock Photo by wajan.