The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

~John 1:1-5, 14.

Words matter to me because they are the tools that God first used.

He spoke and worlds, waters, deserts, jacaranda trees, figs, watermelons, kangaroos, meerkats, and turtles came into being.

God spoke and painted the sky. God spoke and mapped the milky way. God spoke and roots drank deep from the soil.

God spoke.

The Word.

And on a dark night in Bethlehem God slipped into the wet and newborn skin of His own creation.

I write, because how can I not? Created as I am in His image. How can I not pick up the tools He gave me and speak a testimony into being. So, on Fridays we practice with our words – and in it I hear echoes of the making and remaking of truth and beauty and sacrifice. I hear baby cries and a mother’s sleepless nights.

I hear your hearts and I want to cup them here on the other side of the screen.

Your words are sacred. I don’t take them lightly. I see you sculpt your story into being with the abc’s of your life. Your value transcends how many read, comment or like what you write. Your words live beyond the reader. Your words live because you spoke them into being.

Your words live.

They breathe and teach and whisper back to you the truths you need to learn.

“The word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

He still does. On Fridays, on Tuesdays on ordinary every days. The word lives with us and within us and we are the living story He came to write.


Won’t you join me?

    1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking.
    2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
    3. Most important: visit, comment, encourage the person before you.

OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on Connected.

Subscribers, you can just click here to come over and play along.
{Next Friday is nearly Christmas eve, so it will be quiet around here. Let’s spend our words in real life instead.}

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