I have always had a strong relationship with books.
When I was a child, I lived within the pages of whatever well-written, character-driven plot was available to me. Ann M Martin, Francine Pascal, R.L Stine, Lucy Maud Montgomery and Lois Lowry were expert fabricators of children's fiction, according to my particular tastes between the ages of 10 and 13, but I would stick my nose into any book with an appealing character and a witty writing style.
As a teenager, I moved on to a few authors a shade darker than those of my childhood: Dean Koontz and Christopher Pike, and still R.L Stine, but now the young adult fiction rather than the Goosebumps series I had loved so much as a kid.
Later came my baptism into the world of contemporary Christian Fiction with Francine Rivers and Frank Peretti at the forefront: I loved that the themes, while often gritty or thrilling, maintained a sense of hope: of good triumphing over evil: a theme often missing from the books of my youth.
Did you know that your time here on earth is a very precious thing? If you call yourself a Christian, then you are taking the very specific stance that your life has been authored by, and continues to be written by a Creative God who has purposes to fulfill on earth.
I (Rachel) recorded this video back in July; (excuse the poor quality and the interruption at the end). I want to use this video to get us thinking about how we are using our time in light of the eternal purposes God has for each of us. I hope you enjoy.
When I was a little girl, I wrote. More often than not, I wrote stories about the way I wanted things to be. Sometimes I expressed my feelings through songs and poems. Abba wove the love of words into my little-girl heart so many years ago and I shared those expressions freely with those around me.
As I grew up, life got busy: I met my counterpart, children were made and loved; the world marched in and my adult-heart became sensible as it does for so many of us. I learned to be careful, because sometimes, open hearts get burned.
This world isn’t really made for vulnerability, is it?
Three years ago, Abba whispered life back to me:
Just write. He said.
His invitation was tangible; precious and private.
Once more, words began pouring like wine. I was reminded of David, the Shepherd-boy sinner with the king-sized heart.
"My heart is overflowing with a good theme;
I recite my composition concerning the King;
My tongue is the pen of a ready writer."