And he said to them, “Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like a master of a house, who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.”
—Matthew 13:52
PREFACE
The Scriptorium
IN THE CAVERNS OF GOD’S HEART, I am sent in prayer.
Am I willing to go deep into wisdom and grace?
Here is a cavern, holy and light.
Surrounded by a curtain of water, the roar of his waterfalls.
The water is infinite, it is living water, it does not need to flow to anywhere or return, it just flows down in blessing.
The ground is earthy and hard and covered in eggs, incubated by the warmth that rises from below. They are large, like those of an ostrich.
There are flakes falling gently. They are not ash, but snow—they fizzle away when they touch the ground, releasing steam which is cleansing.
All the elements are present. It feels incredibly holy. I have sandaled feet which are comfortably warm, and the frosty touch of snowflakes now and again on my toes is refreshing.
I sit on a high-backed stool. Before me is a book. It is sacred, it crackles, it feels alive. I am not here to read it, but to write in it. A book of wisdom. It is put together piece by piece and page by page. It is a recitation of love.
Love from the beginning, into the middle, perfected at the end. It is the story of stories, of why everything has the form that it does. It is given into the hands of the mortal for understanding and for the triumph of God’s holy grace.
All newness and oldness are here to assist you.
My hands are held out, they are blessed with the kiss of the Christ-King. They will never let you down.
I turn them over to receive a pot of ink, which is everlasting. It will never run out. It is living ink, and it will never betray God’s thoughts, meaning, it will not stray from the thoughts of his heart.