The Quiet Work of Faithful Words

He enters the room quietly, his footsteps soft against the worn wooden floorboards. On the old, cracked desk, he lights an oil lamp, its flame flickering just enough to cast a warm, amber glow across the space. The room feels hushed, almost expectant. He pulls out the wooden chair, sits, and dips his quill into the inkwell, unaware that what he is about to write will one day shape the faith of generations.

At this moment, he is simply being faithful.

The young man is A. W. Tozer, and the words flowing from his pen are not crafted for acclaim or legacy. They are born from hunger—an honest pursuit of God that has marked his inner life long before it ever reached the printed page. Tozer does not write from theory, but from encounter. His words carry weight because they come from a soul that has lingered in the presence of God, wrestled with truth, and refused to settle for a shallow faith.

He writes what he has lived:

To have found God and still pursue Him
is the soul’s paradox of love.

(The Pursuit of God, A.W. Tozer)

This is not contradiction; it is relationship. To know God is not to exhaust Him. To encounter Him is not to arrive at the end of discovery. The deeper the intimacy, the greater the longing. Tozer’s pen continues, declaring a God so vast, so sufficient, and so wondrous that nothing outside of Him is required to satisfy the deepest longings of the human soul. 

When the pages are complete, Tozer gathers them without ceremony. There is no sense that history is being made. The parchment is delivered to a local printing press, bound in leather, and shipped around the world. Tozer cannot see the readers who will underline his words decades later. He cannot imagine those who will return to his books again and again, finding language for a hunger they could never quite articulate on their own.

And yet, that is how obedience often works.

Rarely does the one who writes or speaks in faith understand the reach of their faithfulness. Rarely does obedience come with a preview of impact. Tozer did not write knowing he would be quoted, revered, or remembered. He wrote because God had given him something to say and obedience required that he say it.

This is where the story turns toward us.

We are not so different from Tozer. We, too, belong to Christ and have been entrusted with a message—not a message shaped by culture, trends, or personal ambition, but the eternal message of Jesus Christ: crucified, risen, and coming again. In a world filled with endless commentary and constant noise, the call of God is not for louder voices, but for faithful ones.

Our words, whether written on a page or spoken from a platform, are not meant to draw attention to ourselves. Like John, we are called to be voices in the wilderness, preparing the way of the Lord. John’s power did not come from eloquence or popularity, but from clarity of purpose. He knew who he was not, and he knew exactly whom he was pointing toward. “He must increase,” John declared, “and I must decrease.”

That posture must shape our words.

God has not entrusted us with a message so that we can build our own kingdoms or curate our own influence. He has entrusted us with truth so that hearts might be awakened, lives transformed, and Christ exalted. Every story we tell, every teaching we deliver, every word we choose should ultimately serve that greater purpose—to make much of Jesus.

Scripture tells us that one day we will sit in the presence of the Great Author Himself. In that moment, we will finally see how it all fits together. Every obedient word, every surrendered story, every faithful proclamation will be woven into a single, glorious testimony of God’s redemptive work. Nothing written in obedience will be wasted. Nothing spoken in faith will be forgotten.

But that day has not yet come.

For now, the pen is still in His hand—and He still invites us to participate.

When God prompts you to write, write with reverence and courage. When He opens your mouth to speak, speak with humility and truth. You have been given a portion of this story to steward and a voice to offer back to Him.

When Tozer wrote The Pursuit of God, he could not see the hearts his words would shape—including mine—yet he wrote in obedience; and so may we, trusting God to carry our faithful words, written in surrender, far beyond what we will ever know.

Question:  In a world crowded with voices competing to be heard, what would it look like for you to faithfully become a “voice in the wilderness,” preparing the way of the Lord through obedience rather than visibility?

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*Promo ends 2/17 at midnight EST