The force behind the words

The jam session ended with Brad singing a quiet, acoustic version of "Daggers," one of his best songs. When it was over, he said, "That's the first song I didn't write." It came to him... in a burst of divine inspiration. "It belongs to God," Brad said. "But I get to carry it around for a lifetime."
~from O Me of Little Faith, by Jason Boyett

Readers, I'd love to hear your stories of when this has happened to you (if it has), whether it was in your writing or speaking or music or art or...

And since I've been asking for input but not offering much myself lately, I'll just tell you about one small instance. I've kept a journal for years, starting seriously and regularly shortly after I "discovered" God. Without fail, writing to God and for God brings my life back into order. I remember sitting on the front porch, back when we had a lovely front porch with a purple porch swing (which my friend Rosanne enjoys now). I was writing in my journal, and I decided to flip back a few pages and read what I'd written. I remember getting chills all over as I read the words, in my own handwriting, in my own journal, from two weeks earlier... and not having ANY recollection whatsoever of writing them. It didn't sound like me. It didn't feel like me. My only conclusion was that it wasn't me. I was awed and humbled and amazed. From that point on I knew, without the slightest hesitation or question, that I could never stop writing, always hoping and praying that He will take over. It sounds rather presumptuous to say they're His words, to claim that the holy, divine God would deign to speak to me or through me, and I promise I don't mean this to elevate myself at all. Not at all. I know much of what I write is mine. But I long for the moments when the words that come are no longer mine. When I feel Him take over, when the words tumble out, complete, correct. When certain words are the only ones that will do. When I try to change them only to know that the original word must remain, only to know that the rhythm, the meaning, the thoughts, everything is already done for me. It doesn't happen all the time, but when it does I don't want to move or lose the moment. And when it does I thank my God, in tears, for being so real, so personal, so present, so so amazing.

1 comment:

Doug said...

I am not sure if it is the Holy Spirit of the process of writing itself in which ideas that I never could have just thought up and spoke come pouring out. Thanks for the post. Great to hear.