I’m sitting in a library.

Sitting in a library, thinking, “Huh. There are sure a lot of books.” Rows and rows of ’em. Thousands. Millions, even. Novels, self help, cookbooks, how-to’s, magazines, political science, picture books, biographies… Solomon was right — “Of making many books there is no end, and much study wearies the body” (Ecclesiastes 12:12). No wonder my brain is tired.

I’m a writer. One of my goals in life is to put a few more books on the overloaded shelves. Actually, that’s not true. I want to put a few books into people’s hearts. But still. It makes you wonder… simply adding words to the world, even the three hundred words I’m crafting in this blog… what’s the point?

We’re all a bit idealistic and ego-centric. “Well, most books are fluff. Or repetitive. My work is needed. New. Fresh. The world will be better for it.” Of course it will. We all have to believe that. But is it true?

Jesus said, “My words are spirit, and they are life.” Beats “new” and “fresh” hands down, doesn’t it? Words that are spirit touch the soul. The deepest part of people. Spirit cuts through the crap, the chaff, the noise. It can walk through walls, even the walls we put up to protect ourselves. Spirit can haunt us, prick us, torment us. In the end, words that are spirit are meant to change us, even define us.

Words that are life build up, empower, and ennoble. Sometimes they even hurt. But dead people can’t hurt, so pain is a signal of life. Words that are life are alive, but they are more than that. They are the essence of what it means to be alive. They speak to meaning, awaken it, and nurture it.

Most of the words out there are just Mcwords. They’re cardboard. Make believe. Derivative. Father, please… save me from that. As Christ speaks and writes and moves in me, may my words be spirit and life.