The hand of God is wonderfully evident at those times when He pens stories whose lines we ourselves are far too fearful to pen or whose imaginations are far too limited to envision. And I would unashamedly suggest that the Christmas story is that very story.

God has penned greatness across the script of your soul. And despite how hard people or circumstance have worked to erase that story, I would have you wake up every morning resting in the fact that God’s pen is eternally indelible.

Your story is not written by those who abused the opportunities that they had to pen a line or two on the pages of your life. For your story is written by the God who’s story will erase all of the lesser lines of men.

What would behoove me to instantly declare God not to be God unless He followed my script in some tediously exacting manner? I must confess that I am less likely to believe that it’s a matter of some narcissistic demand that I freely pen my own script. Rather, I think it’s fear that I’m too inadequate to follow God’s.

When I read the ghastly lines of tragedy darkly penned into my life, I turn and notice that the pen in my hand is wet.

We have the power of the pen to write the next chapter, and the privilege to author the page in whatever fashion we choose. Yet, seldom do we understand the power of the pen and the privilege of the page.

When pondering who I am, I write the fiction that I want directly over the facts that I hate. However, what I’ve discovered is that fiction is written in pencil while facts are in pen.

The road from ‘here’ to ‘there’ is a map yet to be written with the pen I hold in my hand.

If we use the ‘pen of fiction’ to edit the ‘narrative of fact’ in order to justify our choices, we will soon discover that the pen is in fact a pencil.