Susan LaffertyWalls of Jericho stand tall. Towering.
Encircling darkened nations. Cities. Communities. Hearts.
Looming large and impossible in our eyes.
Stone upon stone. Holding firm.
In opposition to the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Picking up a pen. And opening my notebook to a fresh page. I keep writing.
Remembering times I’ve jotted down thoughts in Southeast Asia’s tropical humidity. Hands sticking to the paper. Ink smudging along the way.
Or cities on the subcontinent where I’ve huddled in a blanket. At my desk. On mornings when tile floors and no heat mean cold seeps into the bones.
Regardless, I keep writing.
Alarm sounds. Stumble out of bed. Half asleep.
Then, habit kicks in. First word, His Word.
Simple practice. Way of life. Necessary.
And not something I can take for granted. Because distraction is always at the door.
