Some people sing in the shower. I’m likely the only weirdo who writes songs in the shower…and then watches helplessly as they slip down the drain, lost in the sewer of thoughts gone by. In a desperate attempt to salvage my melting muse, I threw on my bath robe, wrapped a towel around my soggy hair and dashed out to my desk and the drawer full of blank paper pads. I wound up appearing late for supper, but discovered tolerance through my embarrassed excuse: “A song showed up to talk and just wouldn’t go away.” I suppose that’s better than past meals, where I’d leap from the table, knocking over my chair, and dash to my desk for a mad scribble before the lines had marched by and vanished into the distance. Were I to sit down at my desk, faced with a blank page, an empty hour and the command to compose, I could come up with absolutely nothing. Capricious is this writing urge. Unpredictable. Untamable. Unstoppable. And I have yet to grasp the eternal purpose.
Once upon a time, men who loved the Lord scribbled madly in response to His Holy Spirit, and we now hold the most precious mirror in the world—better than any “mirror, mirror on the wall.” In these writings we see God’s eternal purpose of bringing glory to His name by creating and then redeeming fallen man, and we see ourselves reflected back in truth. Fallen. Sinful. Helpless. Enemies of God. Through the blood of Jesus Christ, I am purchased, raised, made righteous, a friend of God. These loyal scribes stood by, recording God’s words, His deeds, His power, His love. That’s what I want to be: faithful to record God’s work, God’s moving, God’s presence.
Savior, sing the precious love song
Spelling out eternity
That I might somehow catch the strains
And sing it back to Thee.
I’ve nothing new to write in praise
For Thou the Ancient King of Days
Has taught my lips and schooled my tongue
To praise Thy everlasting Son.
Spirit, capture every effort
That I make to magnify
Work Thy will to make it holy,
Pleasing to my God on High.
Where might I look to offer ought
But what Thy precious blood has bought?
Once Thou formed my inward parts
Again, Thou purchased back my heart.
God Almighty, Abba, Father
Hear and answer this my plea:
Thou sent Thy Final Word to earth,
May He speak through even me.