^{Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.}

^{(Matthew 5:16 KJV)}

 

I went to bed steaming after watching yet another seminar on platform-building. I’d had just about enough of all the worldly self-centered talk on how to elevate myself and elevate my number of followers into the tens of thousands. I did NOT want to do this platform-building stuff and I told God how I felt about it.

I figured He’d be on my side.

My devotions the next morning started with a familiar line from Nehemiah 8, “The joy of the Lord is your strength.”

I liked that. The joy of the Lord. Not a big ol’ platform. Not a giant following of faceless numbers of people.

With a will to dig up more proof and get off the hook for this so-called “necessary” platform-building thing, I opened my Bible to read the joy of the Lord passage in context.

It turns out the context is the occasion of Ezra the priest (also referred to as Ezra the scribe) reading the Book of the Law of Moses to the Israelites. This particular reading occurred soon after they’d returned from their long exile in Babylon to rebuild their home in the Promised Land.

And right there in Nehemiah 8:4, just a few verses before that lovely joy passage, I read this–

 

“And Ezra the scribe stood on a wooden platform that they had made for the purpose.” (ESV)

 

What was that? A platform? Right there in the Bible? Oh, no!

It looked like maybe God wasn’t entirely on board with my high-minded platform refusal plan, after all.

So I studied that section of Nehemiah 8 and what struck me deeply was the purpose for the platform. Not at all to make a big deal out of Ezra. The purpose was to lift up the Word of God so more people could hear the words Ezra had been given to deliver. Words meant to point the people’s hearts back to God.

After that, I stopped griping (mostly) and decided to approach the hand-blistering work of platform-building with a new heart and a different mindset. One focused on the task of delivering my words to the people they were meant for.

Because, God assured me, someone way out there on the far back fringes of the milling-about crowd needed the words I’ve been given to deliver.

I’m not saying my words are anywhere near as important as the Book of the Law of Moses. Those Holy Words, the story of the Word from which all life, and hope, and love, and words do flow, never miss the mark. And they certainly never required editing or revising.

Mine are just small, human words, crafted and recrafted until they’re fit for a few dear souls who might find comfort or inspiration or even entertainment within them.

Still, small as my words may be, I’ve been tasked with writing and delivering them.

 

And they, too, are meant to point to God.

 

So, I keep learning. I keep building that platform. And for the next four weeks, that learning includes how to use my platform-in-progress as a launch pad to send my books to faraway places where someone on the far fringes is waiting for Godward pointing words. Someone who will recognize my voice with a feeling of yes, this is it, in her chest.

You know what I mean, don’t you?

That feeling you get when you turn the last page of a book you know will stay with you always because it has spoken to your soul.

For me, that was The Scent of Water, Words, Peace Like a River, and even, Anne of Green Gables.

There are others, of course, but for me, as much as I love books, it’s not a thing that happens with every book I read. The ones that deeply resonate only come along every few (or many) years. Which is why I’m working hard and long to shape and deliver my books to you. I’m so grateful to those authors who didn’t give up. So grateful for their work of shaping and reshaping words. And also grateful for all the businessy, platform-building work that went into delivering those words from their hearts to mine.

 

If you are one of the far-flung souls awaiting such a delivery from me, may I suggest a little something while you wait?

 

That yes, this is it, feeling delighted me just this week. If you’re the kind of reader who loves stories that invite you into deep and quiet spaces and ask something of you, I suggest you read the sample chapter of Never a Mere Mortal and see if it just might be another of the books your soul is waiting for.

And if you have a few minutes, would you let me know what you think of it? Is Never a Mere Mortal your kind of book or does your heart beat to the sound of a different kind of story? Please share in the comments below a few of the titles that sit on the forever shelf of your bookcase. I’d really love to know. Perhaps, I can point you to where another hard working author has built a platform with a light shining just for you.