I’m not a carpenter, like His Son was, creating things from wood, nails, nor the blood of my brow; neither did I redeem fallen mankind as He did with wood, nails and the blood of His brow. God did not give me a guitar or the ability to play it. Nor do I have a piano or any other instrument that I might write and play the melodies of beautiful songs. God did not give me a paintbrush so that with each loving stroke, I might create new life and vibrant works of art that will hang in galleries and museums and be called masterpieces. God didn’t give me a camera to snap photos of things and people and capture that one brief beautiful moment in time. I don’t have the talent of friends who can do this. A picture paints a thousand words, but I have to have a thousand or more words to paint a picture. God gave me a pen and allowed me to put words on paper and create new people, new places. He allowed me to make people fall in love and live happily ever after or to create tragedies where no one will ever be happy. He allowed me to dip the pen into my character’s hearts and put their emotions on the page. He allowed me to write poems, song lyrics, biographies, novels, love stories, romances, tragedies and adventures. He allowed me to write about beauty beyond compare and to strip ugliness to its barest and most grotesque. God gave me words to use.