Today, August 5th 2015. In the midst of drought both external and internal, I place my pen to the page and I write for water. I write standing in the cracked river bed of belief and search for the truth that remains when barrenness has gripped the heart.
I write for wellsprings of promise, wells of heritage, rivers that don’t run dry, I write in desperate thirst for truth.
I write to create something from nothing. Tohu-Bohu….out of nothing something
Genesis 1: 2 Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.
tohu wa bohu: Numerous interpretations of this phrase were made by various theological sources, though it is usually translated as “waste and void,” “formless and empty,” or “chaos and desolation.”–Wikipedia
I believe that in the midst of the swirling pain of blackness you are ready to speak light. So I hold on and listen to my life. I listen to the rhythms of ebb and flow. I listen for the brush of angel wings and the sound of the dove. I listen for the hurricane and the thunder. You will not leave me formless and void.