Theology

A Writer’s Double Portion (A Prayer)

Gracious God, who inspired faulty and feeble people in times past to write for the purpose of changing lives, please let some of that spirit–a double portion, even, as I am faultier and feebler than they were—rest on me as a writer.

Grant me the productivity of Moses, who though he lived in an age before paper or press is credited with “the books of Moses,” revered as Torah by one generation after another.

Grant me David’s lyricism and imagery evident in line after line of psalm after psalm, from “The Lord is my shepherd” to “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.”

Grant me Isaiah’s facility with word and phrase, he who wrote “Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace,” and “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run and not grow weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Grant me Solomon’s wisdom, Ezekiel’s vision, Jeremiah’s compulsion, and Daniel’s spine.

Grant me Hosea’s courage in telling my story, and in obeying and reflecting you in its every twist and turn.

Grant me the Gospel writers’ recall. Luke’s accuracy. Paul’s intensity. James’s practicality.

And grant, please, whenever my end approaches, whatever my final book or sentence may be, a finish like that of your servant John the Revelator.

All this I am so bold to ask only through the merit of my Savior, Lord, and King, in whose name I ask it, amen.

 

 

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Never Burn a Bridge!

The sale of Thomas Nelson to HarperCollins and last week’s sale of Heartsong to Harlequin brought to mind a critical piece of advice:

Never Burn a Bridge!

Ours is a small industry and both editors and authors move around with regularity. If you are in a business relationship and let your frustration boil into anger and ignite into rage…and let that go at someone in the publishing company, you may end up burning the bridge. And that person who you vented on might someday become the head of an entire publishing company.

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Gray Saturday

I wrote this many years ago and read it every Easter weekend as a reminder. May it speak to you in some small way.

Gray Saturday
by Steve Laube

Holy weekend is such a study in contrasts.

Friday is dark. Somber. Frightening in its hopelessness and pain.
I do not like Dark Fridays.
The nails bury themselves deep into my soul.
They become a singular stake through the heart of this sinner.
Piercing. Rending. Bloody.
Vanquishing this creature of the night who dares to follow his own way.
Christ’s death becomes mine.
The death I deserve.

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I wrote this piece a few years ago and thought it appropriate to post every year on Dark Friday.

Take Me, Break Me
(a prayer)
by Steve Laube

Take my eyes Lord.

Strike me blind.

* * *

Then heal me Lord
That I may see with Your eyes.

 

Take my hands Lord.
Crush every bone.

* * *

Then heal me Lord
That I may touch with Your tenderness.

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