Leaving the Back Door Unlocked

I’m not sure if this is true for everyone, or just for me. But I have a spiritual “back door.” And it’s unlocked.

Maybe yours is too.

When people try to teach me things, whether that be in school, bible study, well-meaning advice — whatever — I have locks. “NO!” I think. “I won’t be swayed!” I might politely listen, but words often bounce off. Like one of those door-to-door evangelists knocking on my locked front door.

But if something comes to me in the form of music or story, it sneaks in my back door.

A song can touch my heart like nothing else. Maybe because it seems so harmless. No one is really trying to “teach” me anything, it’s just a song. But my heart swells and I go with it.

A story is much the same. Years ago, I took a college class from Christian author Walt Wangerin. He was teaching us about how the stories of the old testament shaped who the Jewish people were and what they became. He said, when we hear a story, we “dwell within the story, become the story.” So, when Jewish children heard about Joseph, the favored son, they became like Joseph.

Much in the same way, when I was a kid reading Caddie Woodlawn, I absorbed her qualities. If my parents had said, “you should be brave and do what’s right” I might or might not have listened. But if Caddie Woodlawn did things that way, it sneaked in my back door and became part of me. That is one of the reasons that I take writing for children so seriously. It’s a huge responsibility. We need to make sure we’re feeding our kids good stuff and not garbage.

I don’t think that’s just true for kids, either. I’ve learned recently that my spiritual back door is still wide open. Today I was listening to music while working on revisions to Shaken. Two songs popped up on my ipod that spoke to my heart. One I listen to every time I start writing. It’s by a group called Mercy Me and is called, “Word of God, Speak.” It goes like this:

I’m finding myself at a loss for words
And the funny thing is it’s OK
The last thing I need is to be heard
But to hear what You would say

Sometimes I am overwhelmed with self doubt about my writing. “Who would want to read this?” I think to myself. “This is terrible. I’m going to make a fool of myself.” I listen to this song (let it in my back door) to remind myself that it’s not about what I want to say. It’s about letting God speak through me. I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant. I mean it humbly. I am not assuming God is speaking through me, I am praying that He will.

Another song came on today that spoke to my heart, quietly letting itself into the back door like a familiar friend who doesn’t even need to knock. It was “Legacy” by Nichole Nordeman

I don’t mind if you’ve got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
And you could take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all the Who’s Who’s and So-and-So’s
That used to be the best at such and such
It wouldn’t matter much

I won’t lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
We all need an “Atta boy” or “Atta girl”
But in the end I’d like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough?
To make a mark on things
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace
Who blessed Your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I must admit, one reason I write is to someday see my name on the cover of a book. I think that would be awesome. I’m sure I will stand an inch taller when that happens. (Notice I say “when,” ever the optimist.) But, I am trying to let this song take over my heart. A book isn’t forever. It gets remaindered. It grows old and the pages fall out — or are replaced by blogs and “kindles.” But I am praying that I can remember that my writing isn’t for me. It’s for Him.

That back door was open today. The song spoke to my heart.

How is your back door?

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. Rev 3:20