My heart lurched and thudded at my feet. It was hard to breathe. I started to sweat.
There were mistakes. More mistakes. Seven mistakes and I hadn’t even read it all the way through yet. How was that even possible? I’d read and read and reread. I’d laid a ruler along the margins. I’d painstakingly sorted through code – character-by-mind-numbing character. So. Many. Times. I’d read front to back and back to front. Every single word. Slowly. Out loud. More than once. Dozens of times. I wanted to cry. I had worked so hard and still there were mistakes. Not a few.
There were seven mistakes in my beautiful book. I was holding proof copy number two in my hands and there were mistakes marring the pages. Seven things I’d missed.
Seriously, Lord! How are there still so many mistakes? I used to be a copy editor. I proofed things for a living! How can there still be seven mistakes?
A number that speaks to my family – my brother’s jersey number in every sport he ever played until he died too young.
The Biblical number of completeness:
- The finished work of creation
- The number of times Jesus called Himself I Am in the Gospel of John
- Seven letters to seven churches in the Book of Revelation
- The number of pairs of clean animals aboard the Ark
- The number of times Naaman was told to bathe in the Jordan River to be healed of leprosy
- The number of the Messiah’s attributes in Isaiah 11:2
- The number of times Joshua and Israel marched around Jericho before the walls came tumbling down
The number of breaths I took before pride came tumbling down.
This beautiful book.
It is imperfect, because I am imperfect.
I’ve offered my five loaves and two fish – the best I have – open hands and a willing heart and they took form and shape – eight chapters, two templates, fifteen graphics, seventeen endorsements, a title born of the life I’ve lived and a cover that makes my heart sing.
And it isn’t perfect. And oddly, I’m OK with that now. For those mistakes can be corrected. Maybe not today, but some day.
Today, I’m proud of my imperfect offering. Awed to be holding DISCOVERING HOPE in my hands. Honored to lay it at God’s feet as the worship of my heart.
If you buy it, when you hold it in your hands, I’d love to know what you think. What strikes you, stops you, causes you to pause and breathe deeply as you read the words poured onto its pages?
For your voice matters. We are each a part of the story.
Radical hope. Compassionate change. Equipping those affected by chronic physical and mental illness through community and education rooted in Jesus Christ.