There's No Point to Dull Pencils

I love the feel of a pen in my hand. It’s a religious experience for me, akin to what Eric Liddell said in Chariots of Fire: “When I run, I feel God’s pleasure.” Except when I run I fear my lungs will explode. But when I write, I feel God’s pleasure. 

I suppose I should feel His pleasure no matter my writing instrument, but I’m picky about the pen I use. There’s a certain feel and flow that makes me happy. My current favorite is a Pilot Precise V5 RT. Yes, that’s a pen, not a sports car. 

Several years ago my pen ran out of ink when I was doing interviews on a mission trip. Luckily I had refills with me, but by week’s end the last one gave up the ghost in the middle of an interview. My interpreter quickly handed me another writing instrument. A pencil! And a dull one at that. Once I regained my composure, I was able to scratch out the rest of my notes using the thick lead of the dull pencil. But I was not happy about it. And I did not feel the flow. 

Finding a pencil sharpener helped matters immensely, and I actually begin to enjoy the feel of the pencil and the look of the graphite strokes on the paper. I suppose I could have persevered with the dull pencil. But a little sharpening made a world of difference. 

Proverbs 27:17 states, “As iron sharpens iron, so a friend sharpens a friend."

I’m posting this blog from the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference where I am surrounded by hundreds of people who put words together in ways that encourage, entertain and educate. These folks are super sharp.

• This morning I met with Vonda Skelton, an award-winning author and member of the National Speaker’s Association. She critiqued one of my articles with wisdom and wit.
• I ate lunch with Dr. Dennis Hensley, director of the department of Professional Writing at Taylor University. Among many notable accomplishments, he’s written 54 books. It was a casual conversation, but I took notes on my napkin!
• This afternoon I sat across from Jessica Kirkland, a Marketing and Literary Agent, who shared her keen insight regarding this very blog. 

I feel a bit sharper this evening, and here’s why: “It takes iron to sharpen iron. A knife is not sharpened by cloth, bread, wood, plastic, or even copper. A knife may cut and shape these things to be more useful, but they will only dull the knife. Sharpening a knife requires iron at least as hard as the knife. Once sharpened, a knife is bright, sharp, and ready for much more productive service” (Jonathan Crosby). 

I thank God for the “sharpeners” He continues to bring into my life. And whether the process is pleasant or painful, I pray God’s purposes will always be the point of my life.

Pantyhose and Prayer

On my way into church from the parking lot I realized that my pantyhose were rapidly becoming knee highs. 

I continued talking to my friends as if nothing was amiss, but inwardly I was praying that I would make it to the safety of a nearby restroom before the top of my pantyhose sagged below my skirt. My prayer was answered and I was able to hike up the hose and tuck the elastic-weary waistband into other undergarments. 

On my way into the sanctuary I considered that, given said dilemma, I might need to worship less enthusiastically than is my custom. That is easier said than done at our church. 

While one cannot modestly assess pantyhose progress in public places, I felt as we neared the end of worship that I was holding up well. What I had not anticipated was the Spirit moving on my heart during the sermon. When our pastor asked for those desiring prayer to come forward, everything within me wanted to respond.

But I was held captive in pantyhose prison. 

I knew that God could meet me right where I was, but I longed to pour out the desires of my heart in prayer at the altar. Instead, I sat down. 

As the service concluded, a new friend, Clara, took one look at me and asked, “Are you ok?” 

“Yes” I said, all the while trying to gauge the current status of the pantyhose problem. I decided that they were up—literally—for the walk to the car, so we began to make our way through the crowd. Along the way we stopped to greet more friends.

As Clara and I waited for the rest of our group, she asked again, “Are you sure you are ok? Is there anything I can pray about for you?” 

I don’t know Clara well, but I do know she is a woman of prayer. So I told her what was on my heart. Without hesitation Clara commenced to exhort me in the Lord. She rattled off a succession of Scripture verses that could not have been more perfectly suited. She encouraged, she blessed, she spoke truth into my life. And she concluded with a promise to pray for me concerning the very reason I had longed to go forward. 

When I arrived home I gratefully removed the problematic pantyhose, which obviously took little effort to bring down. As I sat on the edge of my bed, Clara’s sweet exhortations flowed through my mind. And I smiled to think how committed God is to reaching out to me when I am not “up” to reaching Him. 

"I will answer them before they even call to me. While they are still talking about their needs, I will go ahead and answer their prayers!"  (Isaiah 65:24 NLT)

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Ablaze With God's Love

Cheryl planned to kill herself by getting drunk and then setting her house on fire. 

Brought up in a Christian home, she wandered further and further away from her upbringing, and eventually embraced witchcraft. But nothing brought her the love and peace she sought. Her hopelessness grew.  She wrote her goodbye letter on March 6, 2012.

“If there’s no hope,” she thought, “why go on?” So she planned her death. But that, of course, was not God’s plan. He used the prayers and encouragement of her friend Janna, who for five years had been inviting her to church and other activities, to intersect with Cheryl’s growing despair. In the depth of dark hopelessness, Cheryl cried out to God. 

Janna and Cheryl

“Suddenly, it all became real,” she says now. “I finally ‘got it’: God loves me. ME!” 

I have the delight of watching Cheryl jump headfirst into that love. Trust me, hers is not the only life that has been changed. I am greatly impacted by Cheryl’s new life, which she fondly calls “the resurrected me.” Today, May 8, is Cheryl’s birthday. I am celebrating and thanking God for the privilege of sharing some of the wonderful ways I see her faith flourishing: 

She devours God’s Word. I love it when she calls me to say, “Listen to this verse! Isn’t that utterly amazing?” 

She shares her faith. Just ask the tellers at her bank, her hairdresser, the cable company customer service rep, and her neighbors. Cheryl can’t keep quiet about the God who rescued her.

She prays. A lot. When it comes to prayer, she is proactive. She made it a point to ask our youth minister how she could pray for him. Last week she visited the youth service so she could experience “his world” and better understand how to pray. 

She’s grateful. I don’t know if this is original to her or not, but she’s says it frequently: “It’s not OK to forget to remember what God has done.” 

She gives. I’ve been blessed by her generosity, as have many others. Her cheerful giving must make God grin.  

She worships. Songs and sermons touch her heart, and she

reaches for tissues often. But sunsets and spring flowers cause her to break into praise, too. 

How grateful I am that God intervened, Satan didn't win, and Cheryl did not carry out her wish to end her life in flames.

But I believe God wanted to redeem even that plan. Last Thanksgiving, at Cheryl’s request, we had a bonfire. She brought bags and boxes of books from her house: books about spells,

sorcery, magic and witchcraft. It was a scene straight out of Acts. Cheryl tossed the books one by one into the flames. Then Janna, Julia, Cheryl and I prayed and worshiped God… around a roaring fire. 

“Many who had practiced sorcery brought their books and threw them on the fire to burn them publically….in this way the word of the Lord spread widely and grew in power” (Acts 19:19a, 20).


Click HERE to enjoy more uplifting blogs via the T.G.I.F. Link-Up Party at Bible Love Notes!