Sometimes God speaks in a whisper. Through the wrinkling of the sheer translucent pages of my Bible. Through those elderly words lain on the thin surface in mere ink. He tells me things quietly like the wavering voice of wrinkled women intimately proclaiming His glories. His soft feathered birds cannot croon with equivalent beauty and tact.

Sometimes God thunders rebuke. His words crack at my soul with a flash accompanied by torrents of shame coldly rinsing my stained hands. Boulders would crumble to dust if they felt this insurmountable strength. Mountains shake knowing His coming wrath. My heart trembles knowing the poorly hidden iniquities He sees and despises. These words tear through me with the justice and exaltation of His perfection. These words relinquish me distraught and still prideful.

My life is written by the Author.