I am having random thoughts this morning about letters, and the life of them.
I have been reading some stories that imagine the book of Acts in the Bible. As I read the stories I find myself interacting within the tale.
I realize I do this often when reading. And listening, and interpreting and…well, really all of my life.
I consider the Bible. How Jesus IS the word, made flesh and dwelt among us.
How in His words, and in His letters, I feel Him.
I think about how I can interpret the dream and feel the dreamer on the other side of it.
Or how, in giving a prophetic word, I sometimes pull from the future that is beyond the person.
I consider the unity of the brethren.
I ponder how the underground church in China operates, how there is non verbal communication about the time and location of a meeting, and how everyone knows and goes.
I am exploring today, how the grass withers, and the flowers fade, but the word of God stands forever.
Without the constraint of time, how does that all change?
Most of the times I have experienced heaven, there has not been verbal need. Thought is understood without speech.
And He is the word. And the word dwelled, and became flesh among us.
And somehow as I look at what is here and not there, I am left with bones.
Bones remain the longest of any part of our earthly bodies. The structure of our frame.
The way my spirit moves sometimes in heaven does not feel bone constrained.
And I wonder, if bones that are married with letters, are part of becoming one.
I think of John and his record- that we would be one with Jesus as He is one with the Father.
What if every word we ever think or speak forms the structure of who we are in heaven? And then how true we are to our faith becomes the level by which we are recognized in heaven.
Words.
I am speaking less of them these days.
But not as few as I used to.
Selah