Words.
Small things, aren’t they? A breath, a murmur, a flick of the tongue. Yet in the kingdom of God, words carry the weight of eternity.
I love words. I love the way they dance off the page and settle deep into the corners of the soul. I love their power to heal, to lift, to drape color over a gray afternoon. But most of all, I love them because God loves them, too.
When He chose to reveal Himself, He didn’t carve a monument or sketch a masterpiece. He spoke.
He spoke the heavens into being.
He spoke the earth into order.
And when the moment came for His greatest revelation, He wrapped His Word in flesh and called Him Jesus.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1)
The Weight of Words
God entrusted His love story to words. Not the careless kind, but words shaped with the precision of Hebrew and the broad, embracing reach of Greek. Every line of Scripture bears His careful attention—each syllable designed to meet the soul. His words do not stumble or stammer; they reach deep, they remake us.
But somewhere along the way, our culture grew hurried. We traded the richness of description for the efficiency of a text message. We prized brevity over brilliance. In the pursuit of conciseness, we lost the art of vividness.
Preachers once stood as poets before their people, painting visions of heaven and shaking the gates of hell with their declarations. Today, many simply communicate. Information is given. Inspiration is optional.
The Power of Language
Yet God never intended words to be mere tools. He intended them to be bridges—spanning rivers of doubt, leading the weary home.
“Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” (Proverbs 18:21)
Words have always held the power to wound or to heal, to tear down or to build up.
The apostle Paul urges us still:
“Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.” (Colossians 4:6)
Gracious words. Words that season the world with grace.
We, friends, are stewards of language. The same God who spoke galaxies into being has placed His message into our mouths.
What an honor.
What a holy and weighty task.
Words as Melody and Brushstroke
Words are more than building blocks; they are brushstrokes and melodies, rhythms, and refrains. Great writing, great preaching—they do not simply inform the mind. They awaken the soul.
There is a cadence to a well-crafted sentence, a pacing that rises and falls like the swell of a great symphony. The best words do not rush. They do not stumble over one another to reach the end.
They breathe.
They build.
They beckon.
The old preachers knew this.
They spoke not only with truth but with timing.
They paused where the heart needed time to catch up.
They quickened their pace when urgency demanded it.
Their sermons rang out like symphonies—moments of thunder, moments of hush.
And oh, the beauty of alliteration—that careful weaving of words: grace, goodness, glory.
It was never an ornament for ornament’s sake.
It was memory’s handhold, the soul’s echo.
The Artful Rhythm of Scripture
The prophets and poets of Scripture knew this well.
Isaiah sang:
“Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the whole earth is full of His glory.” (Isaiah 6:3)
Notice the repetition, the rhythm, the reverence.
It is not accidental. It is artful. It is worship.
God is a God of beauty, after all.
He crafted the morning to blush in pinks and golds.
He painted the oceans in every shade of blue.
And when He gave us language, He tucked beauty inside it, too.
Words were never meant to simply explain.
They were made to exalt.
Not only to convince.
But to captivate.
Crafting Words That Stir Heaven
So let us not rush through them.
Let us choose them.
Cherish them.
Craft them as offerings to the Word Himself.
Because when words are wielded with wisdom and wonder, heaven itself leans in to listen.
A Good Word 