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Painting a word picture
There are some words in the English language that paint vivid and specific images in the minds of the readers.
For me, one of those vivid, picture painting words is the word "lavish." What a exuberant expression of exquisite excess. A tropical waterfall cascading over sun-warmed flesh. Chocolate frosting 3 inches thick on a birthday cake. A panoramic and unobstructed view of a high mountain valley spilling into ocean waves of blue. The warmth of a loving and unending embrace in arms gentle yet strong enough to protect. Lavish. What an elegant word.
Another word that appeals to my more romantic side is "woo."
Words that cherish with each syllable. Gifts that reveal thoughtful care in selection and presentation. The scent of lilacs that draw you deeper, closer, ever-nearer, so that you are surrounded by the scent, wrapped in it like a babe swaddled in the softest flannel blanket.
Winsome. A word rarely used, but filled with images of tenderness, openness, kindness, a welcoming countenance. A light a shining in the darkness, a safe heart.
Winsome people do not betray a confidence, they don't rain down judgement and condemnation, the winsome have learned how to love as Jesus loves.
Deliver. A word I used to associate with the semis that would come with a month's supply of sliced peaches or the UPS driver with the Christmas packages from home. Now the word is a word that evokes refuge, rescue, chains broken and left behind, never to be taken up again. Wonderful word of deliverance. Wonderful deliverer.
Of course, on the other side of this coin are the harsh images evoked by other words. You know them as well as I, and our images are no doubt similar. Unfortunately, due to our limited human condition, we are more familiar with these words than we are the more winsome ones.
Wound. Torn flesh, ripped open, exposing muscle and sinew, swollen and discolored with a flow of blood that cannot be stanched. A relentless word. Too familiar to far too many of us, far too early in our lives.
Grave. A great yawning emptiness. When I first started writing death notices for the Gazette, inevitably, I would get to the interment part where they announce the cemetery where the departed would be buried. I would word it with the phrase "buried at" rather than "buried in." It just seemed unnecessarily cruel to use the latter phrase. Even though my heart soars with the knowing that the grave has no victory, my human heart still sees a great yawning emptiness in the word.
War. Carnage, woundings beyond imagination, graves dug with too much frequency, oftentimes one great yawning emptiness for many. A scene from movie "The Big Red 1" about World War II comes to haunt me when I hear this word. In this particular scene a soldier picks up a lad of about seven who has spent an untold agony in one of the concentration camps, and has somehow survived. Deep, hungering eyes consume the child's face. His hair is sparse from starvation, There is no strength in the child, he has sticks, wrapped in pale flesh, for arms and legs. The soldier picks the boy up and sets him on top of his shoulders. The child gratefully accepts the apple offered and the soldier begins walking in the warmth of the autumn sunshine, through a copse of trees. The boy takes a bite of the apple, and, leaning heavily on the head of his new-found friend, drinks in the vista of freedom. Soon, too soon, the child slumps, the apple drops, and the child's arms fall limp. The soldier, war-weary and soul-shocked by the scenes of carnage he has just witnessed, simply takes the boy's arms in his hands, and continues to walk, taking the child far from the hell he had endured.
Fear. A word too familiar to any one you can name. The vision here is that of a child, huddled far back in the corner of a room full of conflict, cowering, seeking to disappear, to melt into the ground, to escape notice.
Words. Utilitarian. Getting the job done. Oh, but some of the words. What power is found in the words. Each one giving way to an image that can change a heart.
Has God been wooing you? Have you received gifts so precious you cannot help but turn to him with a thankful heart? Or has the wooing fallen on deaf ears? Have you listened instead to the voice of the great deceiver who has whispered in your ear, "It is no less than you deserve."?
Have you felt the lavish love of a Father who exalts in hearing you call him "Father?" Or have you held onto your earthly citizenship, convinced that we are here by an act of mere happenstance.?
Have you yet to meet some winsome soul who has shown you the love of a Savior, who has led you to your place of deliverance? Or have you determined for yourself that your deeds are sufficient, your heart pure enough to find heaven on your own?
Are you one who must be wounded, filled with fear, surrounded by conflict, brought to your last breath before you can be won? Because God means to redeem his people and he will do whatever it takes. He will woo. Sometimes, he must wound. Too often, we leave him no choice.
"How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!" I John 3:1 (NIV)