Crossings Out by Emily Owen

I recently spent time with my sister and her family. I was with them longer than planned (such a hardship!) due to disruption of the trains.

I was speaking at a Ladies’ Event, and it fell on a day when school was shut, meaning my ten-year-old niece could come, so I asked her if she’d like to read aloud the meditation I planned to include in my talk. She said she would, which meant that;

a) I had the privilege of her doing so.  

b) I didn’t need to read it myself.

Before we left for the event, Abbie practised reading the meditation. She read it very well, until she came to the last couple of lines, where she paused. “I can’t read this out,” and she pointed on the page:

 I know about God.

He's here.

(full meditation below)

Abbie worked out how to convey the meaning, but her words made me think.

I can’t read this out.

Because a word had a line through it.

As Christian writers - and in general, actually - how often do we try to read out things God has crossed out?

I’ll never be as good as others

I can’t do this

I’m rubbish

Etc

I travelled home a day late. Trains were still delayed/cancelled/disrupted, but at least some were running. As I inched my way homeward, whether on trains or waiting for connections, I had a travelling companion: Braver, by Deborah Jenkins.

It’s a lovely book, do read it. I will be reviewing it (and reaching for five stars when I do), but not here. In this blog, I want to quote from the Acknowledgements. Deborah writes:

…take a rather awkward child, cook her until she’s sixty and then publish the story that, one way or another, she’s been writing all her life.

Just as we can try to read things God has crossed out, perhaps we ourselves can cross things out. And perhaps they are things that God Himself doesn’t cross out.

I can write

I have a book-dream in me

My voice is valid

Etc

Elsewhere in the Acknowledgements, Deborah writes that she might have given up on her writing dreams if not for the encouragement of her friend, Fran Hill.

So encourage each other, and build each other up...

(1 Thessalonians 5:11)

In Braver, one of the characters hears-in-his-head the voice of his deceased Gran. He remembers her words of encouragement to him. And they give him courage.

May we remember that we have a God who encourages us.

Who says leave the crossings out to Me.

A God who is here.

Who says, in Isaiah 30:21 (a verse I used for my own granny when I dedicated a book to her): 

“This is the way; walk in it.”

 

My friend told me about God.

She said he's powerful.

So I filed it away under 'I know about God.

My neighbour told me God is wise.

I filed that away, too.

I know about God.

Someone else  told me God is caring.

I filed that away, too.

I know about God.

My list kept growing.

I kept reading it, learning it, memorizing it.

There's so much to know about God.

I'm sitting, waiting.

Waiting to see the doctor.

Waiting for my name to be called.

I open my file and remind myself.

I know about God.

He is powerful, wise, caring...

The list seems hollow today.

I don't know why.

I need more.

I ask the lady beside me to tell me something about God.

As she thinks about it, her name is called.

She stands, ready.

Ready to receive news about her illness.

Her symptoms have got worse, I know.

She told me.

Gathering her bags together, she says,

'Something I know about God?

He's here.'

I watch the door to the doctors' room close behind her.

He's here? With me? Right now?

I pick up my list, and cross out a word:

I know about God.

He's here.

(God's Calling Cards, Emily Owen)