I’m sitting in my chair, listening to Pandora. Missy Higgins station to be precise. I’m pondering my life. Goals God has for me personally, in my family, my ministry, my writing. I take the first 21 days of January to do that–filling up journal pages with whispers of what I need to do. Where I need to go. What I need to drop off in the refiner’s furnace.
Tonight, I’m wondering if I was a book where would I be placed? What shelf? Most of my friends would say Chick Lit, if they knew what that was. On a bad day, maybe horror. Some days I can’t find up from down, so maybe a mystery.
I wonder where God would place me? I hope to be an epic tale full of Divine romance, suspense, mystery, with some Chick Lit humor, but I have no idea where that mixed genre fits on a shelf.
Truth is, I’m an unfinished work. I’m constantly being tweaked and revised before He sprinkles out my pages to others for reading, to hopefully inspire their hearts and encourage them. To sharpen them like iron.
One day, I’ll be finished. Complete. Just the way He intended for me to be. Will millions have the opportunity to read the pages of my life and be ministered to, inspired, touched? I don’t know. But some will. At least some.
I’m looking forward to the day when that last page is turned and my Author steps down sapphire stairs to greet me on crystal waters. I can hear the angelic choir softly harmonizing with the saints but I keep my eyes on the burning flames that are gazing right into my very soul–his beautiful handiwork. He’ll be careful not to dog ear me. He’ll turn the pages as if it’s a beautiful, miraculous dance. Each turn, like a soft kiss.
The last line of the last chapter will read, “Well, done my good and faithful servant. My bride. My dove. My fair one. And she entered into His joy. Glorious eternity. ”
