Words Stir me

Words stir me. Both written and spoken words have shaped, motivated, challenged and encouraged me. As a believer and follower of Jesus Christ it is no wonder the power of words in my life. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” John 1:1,4-5 (ESV).

As a mom and teacher of children I know the power of words in shaping those most impressionable. Often an expression on a child’s face shows the affect of spoken words. With just a few words a simple disappointment can turn to defeat when harsh words of criticism are uttered. With just a few words a simple disappointment can be turned into the courage and confidence to try again.

The power of written words began stirring me at a young age. With her words, L. M. Montgomery made a young girl come alive in my mind. The qualities that I learned from a character instilled ideals that I still hold: daydreaming is necessary, imagination a gift, and independence should be exercised with prudence. As I grew older it was the written words of intelligence with imagination that captured me when I read the works of C.S. Lewis. Difficult truths of God’s Word suddenly made sense in a new way.

As I hold the Bible and read, through the power of the Holy Spirit, I am moved. More of my Savior is revealed and my filth made plain – which in turn makes my salvation all the sweeter. A holy God, majestic in all of his ways, cares for this world, each person in it, our individual hearts – he knows. He chooses to reveal so much through his inspired written word.


Words in this world are ample and are to be used with discernment. When given the opportunity to teach

or write for others, it is a privilege and honor I do not take lightly.

Choosing to pitch a fit, or rest in my Savior


Overwhelmed, a little stressed, the plans laid out beautifully in my head are not going at all as planned. It is a season, I know that this too shall pass. I have shared with close friends that if this is a test, I am failing.  I am choosing to refuse to be comforted; choosing rather to pitch my little fit of crying and dwell in my disappointments.

I have been refusing (much like that of an infant) to rest in my Savior.

I can remember holding my children late at night when they were babies. There were times when I would whisper, "just rest, I have you...cradled in my arms, rest." For whatever reason they had been pushed beyond that point of being comforted. Crying and wailing seemed to be what was preferred, until out of mere exhaustion...they rested.




How very much I am like an infant! 
I know that my Savior holds me, 
yet I prefer the crying and wailing, until exhaustion takes over, then I rest. 
Realizing that my Comforter, 
my Savior, had been holding me all along, whispering,
 "just rest, I have you...cradled in my arms, rest."