I write. I want to make GodTalk.
As a relatively new believer of only six years, I often feel stuck in the middle of two opposing worlds. The world I left behind, my past life before Jesus, has my history, my dearest friends, and my family. But it has almost no GodTalk.
Yes, I still get together with old friends. And yes, they talk about ‘god.’ But he is only a speculation, a question mark, a little ‘g.’ He is the god of spirits and ghosts and angels that are fun to watch on make-believe television. And when a click of the remote passes by the waving, prancing preachers who ‘do’ religion on television, my friends smile. They even tell me God might really be out there, somewhere. But that’s not GodTalk.
In my new life born of Jesus, when I visit with my new friends, there’s plenty of GodTalk. It’s all about finding God’s will, submitting it to the Lord, and praising the day my Savior redeemed me. But that’s not GodTalk, either. This is privileged communication between believers, privileged because we’ve taken the time to learn some special words, short-cut words to explain how we feel. But the only people who can possibly understand us are other believers.
GodTalk is special. It’s the bridge between these two worlds of my life. It’s more than words. It is attitude, an openness to hearing God. It is watchfulness, the desire to see God in the simple things of the world. It is the willingness of a heart to meet God, to really have a desire to answer him with our life when we ask Him if He’s there.
For me as a writer, most often GodTalk is the personal, lonely mental conversations I have, trying to bridge across the world of my past and the world of my future. It’s the struggle to translate what my Christian friend is saying into non-Christian words my secular friends will accept. Or it’s the silent mental apologies I make for my secular friends when they fail to communicate their deep spiritual longings to Christians.
When I write, I am writing my GodTalk. Essays, editorials, books – words placed one after the other on the page – how can they move my old world closer to my new world? How often this writer’s desire feels like a slow train to China. I dream for the words that can build a rocket. Where’s the blast that lifts the words off a page and makes them live in people’s lives?
I want to write. But Lord, give me your heart for stories that teach people to GodTalk.
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THE WRITER’S LIFE
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