In My Heart like a Fire, by Sarah Sansbury

A belated Happy New Year to you all! This month, I would like to offer two pieces of encouragement for our writing in the coming year: one practical, and one spiritual.

First, a practical piece. Take exceptional care of your journals and notebooks. They are of great personal importance, of course, but they can also become rich sources of inspiration. Yesterday when I was feeling under the weather, I enjoyed a good old read of last year’s journal entries. I meandered through minutiae of family life, the odd song snippet or striking quotation, accounts of my thoughts and prayers, laments over the amount of time I had wasted on social media, haphazard resolutions, and other scribblings of that ilk. Mostly mundane, but precious to me.

Inspirational "Trinitarian" three-wick candle on my writing desk

Yesterday's meanderings also unearthed a piece of spiritual encouragement. In His great grace, God has fine-tuned us to employ our writing talent for His glory. It’s embedded in our hearts. We can do no less. Leafing back through the journal pages, I happened upon a poem on this theme which I wrote last June (and then evidently forgot about). Although my writing inspiration at the time was from Psalm 68, yesterday I also recalled Jeremiah’s lament: “But if I say, ‘I will not mention his word or speak anymore in his name,’ his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones.” (Jeremiah 20:9). This ACW Golden Jubilee year, let’s celebrate and appreciate the glorious truth of our divine calling. Our gift of words is a fire which cannot remain “shut up in (our) bones.”

My very fine Highland Cow journal

Here is my poem. Blessings to you all.

PROCLAIM

“The Lord announces the word, and the women who proclaim it are a mighty throng.” (Psalm 68:11)

I take my place in the mighty throng,

standing where I truly belong.

Only for You, I will write the songs,

craft the words You want to say,

that You lay on my heart, night and day.

There’s a secret room as yet unopened,

untapped, unsuspected, full of hope, and

if I languish outside with my songs in the dark,

if I lock the door and snuff out the spark,

my gift will drift, stagnate, and fritter,

leaving me comfortless and bitter.

Unlock me, Lord, unblock my words;

whether small or great, they need to be heard.

Each day, let me write with grit and urgency

unswayed by distraction or minor emergency;

serving You always my firm priority,

that my words may ring with truth and authority.

And so, once more, redeem my calling,

refresh, renew, re-save me from falling.

I can’t stay silent, the lines pour forth,

I lose all sense of south and north.

A river of song pours from my pen:

the waters are rising, again and again.

This flow is gift and destiny.

Thank You, Father, for choosing me.

© Sarah Sansbury, FB Flowers of the Field (edited January 2022)