Michael T. Hare

In an earlier post, I mentioned how writers can speak to people on a deeper level. And while I don’t believe our words matter more than others, they clearly hold a certain power. For example, when I read Michael R. Miller’s prequel, Last Stand of the Stone Fist, I felt the tragedies in my chest. It hit me in a way no other story ever had.

When you become a writer, you inherently gain the power to convey things. Readers will take in your messages, beliefs, and ideas and probably apply them to their lives. What a responsibility! Isn’t that amazing? Yes. Yes, it is quite wonderful, but at the same time, it is imperative that we don’t underestimate that responsibility.

I’ve read a few books—most of which are very good—but I’ve run into some that I put down. Maybe I disagreed with the content, the author was dishonoring God, or the main character had an immoral motive that I couldn’t support. Sometimes, however, the things I disagree with are a lot more subtle and hide beneath layers of quiet messages—I mainly see this in movies.

Some storytellers inject their art with bad messages and, thus, abuse the power they’ve been given as creators. They may seem harmless from a distance, but bad messages have the same effect as positive messages—they stay in our minds, and we subconsciously process them. That is why we must write stories filled with life and truth; under our fingertips is the ability to give messages, to speak life or death.

This is encouragement, traveler. On those days when you feel pointless, wondering why you even write, think about who might need your words. Consider the possibility that your words do matter and that they can brighten someone’s day—that lonely, small person nobody knew about. God works that way. He will shepherd your words to the right person.

Until we meet again, traveler.