I belong to a large church, and we fill our sanctuary with passionate people every Sunday. Sometimes during a loud worship song, I raise my hands and call out, “Do You see me, God? I’m right here in the dark. Can You hear me? I’m singing as loud as I can. I love You!”
I sense His pleasure, and I laugh and clap my hands.
I know it’s silly, but I keep doing it for some reason. Perhaps it’s because I served as the worship leader for three different congregations over a period of time. I stood on a platform every week and lead the worshipers by singing into a microphone.
I knew God saw me. I knew He heard me. As did the people in my church.
But these days, lost in the crowd on Sunday mornings, I feel like a tiny star in a huge constellation.
When I sit at my computer to write, I feel the same way. Sometimes while typing, my heart calls out, “Are You reading this, God? Do you see me here at my keyboard? I love You!”
I usually sense His pleasure and smile as my fingers dance across the keys. But other times, I stare at a blinking cursor with hands as limp as a junior high wallflower.
I feel invisible.
Maybe it’s because I teach women’s Bible studies and travel as a retreat speaker. I stand on a platform and pour into a sea of faces. Filled with the Holy Spirit, I’m able to impart the gems of truth He whispers to me.
I know God sees me. I know He hears me. As do the women in attendance.
But alone at my computer, I’m just a tiny star in a vast universe.
In these times of isolation, I choose to remember the promise God gave me when He first called me to speak and write for His glory.
As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish, so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is my word that goes out from my mouth: It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. – Isaiah 55:10-11 NIV
Standing on a platform, I get to serve bread. Writing is more like sowing. Both yield something of value when God’s Word is being poured out.
Whether the yield is large (like Sunday mornings at Peoples Church) or small (like the number of page views on my blog) God’s Word never returns empty.
When I remember this promise, I don’t feel invisible. And my fingers start to dance again.
