My son came home early from school one day this week. Allergies and a corresponding headache were to blame. I quickly developed a headache of my own when I realized the mountain of homework that resulted from his premature departure from the classroom.
Ugh. Big Ugh. Guttural Ugh.
Homework and I are not friends. It is a constant drain on the energy in our household, most of us boasting a few scars from the woundings that have taken place over the years. I’ve been through the fifth grade with my children three times now. Four if you count the first time when I was a student in Mrs. Hitch’s classroom at Wilmore Elementary. Images of having to wear a red velvet dress and white sandals for a speech contest flash through my mind. So does the image of Mrs. Hitch disciplining me for chasing Robbie L. around the classroom in order to pounce on him for teasing me about said dress. Unlike my son, I didn’t have an educational learning issue—just a people one. I’ll let you decide which is worse.
But I digress. Back to homework, to a poorly feeling boy, and to his mother who was less than thrilled about completing missed assignments. We started with the easiest—Math. Worked our way through the worst–History, Science, and Language–rounding the bend with Bible. Yes, Bible. Our kids attend a Christian school. Having never worked through a Bible lesson with him before, my curiosity was peeked. The day’s lesson?
Bible tracts. What they are, how they’re used, and the overriding hope and purpose behind a small piece of paper that is easily transferred into the hands of total strangers. The lesson emphasized the powerful effect of a tract by citing examples of real, life-changing encounters that have happened as a direct result of a tract being received. The lesson also made mention of the fact that, with these examples, few words were spoken between the individuals in the exchange. Simply a transfer of material between two hearts, two hands. The question for the student (and for this less than cooperative mother/teacher) was, “What does this tell you about what’s written on the tract?”
Both of us sat with the question for a few minutes, and then I asked my son again.
“Jadon, if this small piece of paper, written with a few words from God’s Word, has the power to change a heart and lead a person to surrendering his/her life to Jesus Christ, then what does it say about the words on this tract?”
He thought for a long time. I could tell the wheels were turning in a right and proper direction, and then he responded … better than I thought he might.
“Strong. They’re strong words, mom. If they can change a heart, then they are strong.”
Lesson learned by a boy. Lesson re-learned by a grown woman.
Powerful and effective is the Word of God, strong enough to stand on its own, with or without my own words alongside. God’s Word doesn’t need my words to make it true, to make it right, to make it worthy. Sometimes fewer words from my lips is the better course of action when it comes to the dispensation of God’s truth. Sometimes human dialogue, wordy platitudes, and self-impressed knowledge can hinder truth’s progress. Sometimes it’s just better to let the strong Word of God breathe.
Strong. There’s strength there, friends. When was the last time you released God’s Word into the air, into the heart of a loved one, a family member, a stranger and let it breathe without your manipulation?
I trust in the strength of God’s Word, and I am humbled by the privilege and charge that has been entrusted to me as a child of the King to share it with others. I may not always share it eloquently; more than likely I’ll stumble and bumble my way through the process. But in the end, God’s Word will stand. Not by my might, but by the power and strength of the Mighty One whose Word cannot be undone. Only realized as truth.
Realize Him, this weekend. Recognize Him. Remember Him. Release Him. He will do the rest. As always…
Peace for the journey,