Several Sundays ago, when Isaac Anderson stood on the Heartland stage and talked about first lines in literature, I felt sure God would have something special for me in the sermon. Much of my life—childhood, adolescence, and adulthood—has been about stories. I tell stories for a living, and I also work with teens who love to write and help teach them to tell better stories.
But while I hung on every word of Isaac's sermon, at first I wasn't listening with my spiritual ears so much as my writer ears. I was thinking through the first lines in some of my books. Have I done a good job putting the story in the first line? I could maybe write a blog post about that. I wonder where Isaac teaches and if his class is full...?
But thankfully God nudged my spirit awake as Isaac unpacked the first four verses of Luke:
Many have undertaken to draw up an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed down to us by those who from the first were eyewitnesses and servants of the word. Therefore, since I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, it seemed good also to me t write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught. - Luke 1:1-4How many times have I skimmed this introductory paragraph on my way to the meat of Luke's gospel? But Isaac made an observation about this opening that has already made a big impact on my identity. He pointed out that Luke talks about two groups of people in this paragraph—those who were up close to Jesus, who knew him, and those who were not close and needed access.
And Luke puts himself in the middle.
"Like a bridge," Isaac said. Luke was a bridge between those who knew Jesus and those who needed to know Him. Here it is again, with Luke's reference to himself highlighted:
Many have undertaken to draw up an account of the things that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed down to us by those who from the first were eyewitnesses and servants of the word. Therefore, since I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, it seemed good also to me t write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught. - Luke 1:1-4A bridge, I realized as I stared up at the screen. That's what I am.
It was one of those moments that I've become increasingly aware of in my last year at Heartland, a "kairos" moment where God is speaking and my ears are listening.
The words thudded in my ears all day, and then all week. I'm a bridge.
I thought about the teens I work with, the ones who are proud to be Atheists but who love hanging around our writing website. I'm a bridge for those teens.
I thought of my children, who ask me difficult spiritual questions ("Mommy, what happens to people who die but don't believe in Jesus?") that I try to answer honestly, yet in ways their six- and four-year-old brains can understand. I'm a bridge for my children.
I thought of the novels I write and how they wander into homes and lives where God is mocked or ignored. I'm a bridge for those readers.
We're all called to be bridges—that's what the Great Commission is all about. Jesus said to his disciples, "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you."
Who in your life do you have unique access to? Coworkers? Nieces and nephews? Foster children? Neighbors? Consider how God might be uniquely equipping you to reach those people.
