Susan LaffertySomething new. Blank page of another year. Month. Day.
Unwritten. Unspoken. Unknown by me.
At the open door sits fresh, white snow as far as the eye can see. Waiting for the first footprint.
Looks like hope.
Word of God in the mouth of the prophet. Sweet to the taste. Like honey.
So says Ezekiel. David. And the apostle John.
Word of God, eaten. By Jeremiah.
The words He gives sometimes hit strong with judgment. Jarring.
But even there, sustaining. Healing.
In a world that groans to be made right again.
Sometimes we want to chart the future. Check out the land first. See if it’s a good fit.
And while the fruit is inviting, enemies can seem awfully big. Cities and their barriers, overwhelming.
So we hem and haw. Hesitate to go.
Step back from the border.
