I asked my writer friend Kelsi why she writes. Her response was profound:

“For me, writing is taking an idea and making it tangible—taking apart something complicated and putting it into simple terms. Writing, by nature, is teaching.”

The truth you have to say is worth saying because it can produce movement—whether it is the movement of the mind, soul, or hands and feet—and movement changes things.

Write about things that matter. Write about birds and trees and mountains. Ordinary life. Quantum mechanics, if you’re so inclined.

Write about heartache and suffering. Write about what surprises you. Write about the ugly, the forgotten, and the invisible. Write about hope.

My faith leads me to believe that our longing to connect to the world through words has to do with something more significant than we often think. It originates at the beginning, in Genesis, when the Spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters.

In a series of whispers, God chose to lift the world out of the formless void at the command of His words.

Have you ever thought about that before?

He could have clapped His hands, thought a single thought, or swirled His breath into what our world is today. But instead, He spoke the planets, the fruit trees, and the tree frogs into existence.

With the words “let there be“ our story began. Words were His chosen tools of creation. Everything we see is His spoken world.

When you write, you are reflecting —if only with a flickering moment—those first profound moments of recorded time, where God created through the magic of words.

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