Recently I was required to speak words in a context of profound grief. I wonder about words, even God’s words, spoken in that context. They are hard to come by and feel inadequate.
Yet we speak them, hoping they will be like tiny seeds planted in fields. We hope some of them will grow and provide a harvest of comfort.
The Lord tells Isaiah (chap. 55) this, about his word:
Just as rain and snow descend from the skies
and don’t go back until they’ve watered the earth,
Doing their work of making things grow and blossom,
producing seed for farmers and food for the hungry,
So will the words that come out of my mouth
not come back empty-handed.
They’ll do the work I sent them to do,
they’ll complete the assignment I gave them.
All we can do is speak the words of loving truth, trusting that God will somehow, someway, someday accomplish something with them.
I believe that.
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