There are few things that trouble me more than a blank page. I’m a writer. Words wait impatiently inside, begging for escape. And yet here I sit, staring blankly at a blank page.

Those things that trouble me more than a blank page are the very issues I want to write about. Injustice. Violence. Racism. Slavery. Innocence lost, stolen, from our children.

And yet I wrestle to find the right words.

We come into this world a blank page, waiting to be filled. There is much good to be written upon us, and through us. Yet the evil pen strikes, stealing order and beauty from our story, replacing it with chaos and confusion. How I want my words to speak life and light into the death and darkness that seek to overtake the page.

It doesn’t seem fair that those who would seek to twist our world into something ugly have the greatest platform. Those who hunger and thirst for goodness are silenced, while the voice of hatred prevails. Yet we are not as powerless as we may think.

I came across these verses recently: “You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted, you encourage them, and you listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed, in order that man, who is of the earth, may terrify no more” (Psalm 10:17-18) and, “’Because of the oppression of the weak and the groaning of the needy, I will now arise,’ says the Lord” (12:5).

Will not the Giver of Words grant us the right words in due season to speak to the injustices of our generation, and to bring truth and life where there is deception and death? Will not the maker of the tongue loosen it to speak order into the chaos and confusion? If our heart is for the afflicted and oppressed, will he who hears their deepest cries not empower us to labor on their behalf?