I was sitting in my usual spot in church last Sunday (no, I don't consider it "my pew" but I am a creature of habit!) when a young man tapped me on the shoulder. He said he went to a restaurant for lunch a while ago and picked up the Sunshine News on a counter, to read while on his break. He glanced through it and noticed my column, The Spur. He read while waiting for his meal.
"Then," he said, "I had a problem." I twisted in my seat to look directly at him. "I had to go and pick up my burger with tears streaming down my face."
"Oh," I said, not sure if he saw that as a good thing or bad thing, until his eyes filled and he gave his head a quick jerk. "It was beautiful," he said. "Thanks."
The piece he had read referred to the funeral of a small baby - his son. (You can read it here). As we hugged right there in church, I thanked God that the words had been a small part of his healing.
What a privilege we have as Christian writers, to write in such a way that hearts are touched - hearts that are hurting but on the mend, like that young man's. What a privilege to watch as God uses our words and does His work with them.