I opened my journal this morning to find that I haven't written down my thoughts with pen and paper in more than a month.
It is my most life-giving habit, my best discipline, my pathway to God, how I speak to him and how he so often speaks to me, and yet I had set it aside for weeks.
I can tell you why, though I'm afraid it doesn't make very much sense.
It's that whole idea of potency, like letting the scent out of the magazine sample of perfume. As if I lean too much into my thoughts, I might run out of them.
I know. Preposterous. Thoughts don't disappear because you think them.
And then I recalled this word: Omnipotent.
It's a word I learned in fifth grade. I remember learning it, along with all the other fifth and sixth graders who were learning basic theology from Mrs. Estes in room 304 at the 9:15 hour on Sunday mornings. Odd, the things that stay in my mind. I remember that word, and I remember her very, very, very tight bun.
Anyway, I have known since I was ten that the word means 'all powerful.' My God is the omnipotent God. There is nothing he cannot do, and he has unlimited authority.
But, today there is more.
I had just written my absurd concern that journaling would lose its potency, and now this word I have long known offers the antidote in the very nature of its structure.
Omnipotent: All potency.
He will not lose his potency if I let him out of the box. There can never be less of God.
News flash: God is not a scratch 'n sniff sticker that loses its fragrance. There is only ever more of him.
The more I seek You, the more I find You. Because You are omnipotent.
