“Open my eyes, that I may behold wondrous things out of your law.” (Psalm 119:18)

Some days, I approach the Scriptures simply as an act of obedience. With pen and journal on standby, I wait for inspiration to fall from heaven and escort me to a spiritual retreat within the confines of my comfortable family room. After a while I arise, clutching only the satisfaction of showing up, not of being spiritually satisfied.

On other days, the verses meander through my mind like sparkling water slipping over river rock, smoothing, caressing, cleansing as they go. I am immersed in vibrant refreshment, drinking gulps to ease a thirst that has no other remedy.

On other occasions words catapult off the sacred pages, landing squarely before my eyes with the intensity of a lightning bolt. Familiar words that have previously drifted by like invisible wisps of air now take the form of a hurricane’s wind force.

God’s message blows into my heart with intensity, crashing through the mediocre and the mundane, transforming my spirit by its life-changing impact. Now, tucked into the lining of my mind are portions of Scripture that are indelibly transcribed, that will nourish me continually, allowing me to extend to others this healing balm.

Sometimes I wait for God to show up in brilliant colors and splash vibrant hues across the canvas with a palette of jeweled-­‐-­‐-­‐toned treasures. Often, black words on white onionskin pages are the only colors I see.

The drab and the dramatic have one thing in common: both occur when I choose to crack the cover and read.

Elizabeth A. Mitchell