The Word In Words by Emily Owen

‘Words!’ said my five-year-old niece, triumphantly.

They’d been talking about Christmas, and Jesus coming, and how the whole Bible points to Jesus. At the end of the conversation, just to round it off, my sister asked my niece what runs through the whole Bible?

No Sunday School-esque answer of “Jesus!” from my niece.

What runs through the whole Bible? “Words!”

Never let it be said that my niece does not have impeccable logic.

But perhaps she wasn’t as far off as my sister’s ‘we have some work to do….’ message to the family WhatsApp group implied.

Along with the written words on each page, even in those words, is The Word – Jesus.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

John 1:14a

At Christmas, we often read:

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given…

Isaiah 9:6a

Echoing words of the prophets, who long predicted that the Messiah would come.

And in the end, He did.

Because words on a page – or a scroll, or word-of-mouth – were not enough.

Perhaps, as Christian writers, we sometimes feel that our words are not enough. They seem dry on the page. We wish they were more.

Perhaps we feel that we are not enough. We wish we had words. We are word-less.

But we are not Word-less. We never are.

The Word - our Word - is in every aspect of our lives. Our writing (or not writing), our speaking, our thinking…

I once received a letter from a reader: ‘It’s like you are seeing into my heart’. I’d never met this person, much less seen their heart. But Jesus had. He knew them.

The Word illuminated and used my words, as I am sure He does yours, too.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

A dwelling is a place of residence.

A place of staying.

I pray that this Christmas, and in the coming year, we will know the illuminating presence and staying of the in-residence Word.

Of Jesus.

As I type, on the wall to my right hangs a plaque, bearing the opening words of my favourite carol. 

I hung the plaque there for Christmas, but might forget to take it down.

‘Joy to the world, the Lord has come.’

Since it’s Christmas, I hope you’ll forgive a couple of deliberate typos (hm, is a deliberate typo a typo…):

Joy to our words,

The Word has come – to stay.

On Sunday, a friend called round for a door-step visit. Shivering slightly, we commiserated about cancelled plans, and not being able to meet with people in the way we'd hoped to over Christmas. Then she suddenly said, "Can you teach me to say 'Happy Christmas' in sign language?" I did, and she signed it back to me. In the midst of a conversation which highlighted disappointing things, she spoke 'my' language. She met me where I was, and she did so with joy.

May our words, and our Word, meet people - including ourselves - where they/we are this Christmas. Not denying the hard things, but neither losing sight of the joy flickering in their midst.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.

Joy to the world, the Lord has come.