Every day, four times a day, writer Ann Voskamp reminds herself of the love she vowed the Farmer --as she leaves the marriage bed, leaves the front door, returns to the front door, and returns to the marriage bed. These she calls “the four critical archways of time in our day.”
Every day, writers pass critical archways, too.
We pass the doorway to the altar—the place where we approach God. Here is the place we adore, confess, wait, and listen to Him. It may be a kitchen table, a dining room table, a secluded desk, or a table at a neighborhood café. What matters is delighting in the Holy One who forewent the glories of heaven and took on our sinful flesh so that we might wear Christ’s righteousness today. When we pass through the doorway to that altar, our forgetting minds and wayward hearts return home.
We pass the doorway to the writing table—the place where we approach our readers. Even though our readers don't hover over us--and we're glad they don't-- they are real people, thirsty for life and hungry for truth. Writers find great joy at the writing table, but it's especially set for the good of our readers.
We pass the doorway to the world—the places where we meet others in the world. These might be an office, a retail store, a restaurant, a service shop, a school, a health center, a studio, a gym, a backyard fence or a friend's kitchen. No matter where we go, how might God use us to help others see Him? And how do those we meet help us see God?
We pass the doorway to our home—the place where we are best known and most loved by those with whom we share a kitchen sink, a washing machine, perhaps even a marriage bed. We have profound obligations to these at home. How can we set writing aside and engage them? How might our writing do them good?
We all pass archways every day. Which ones are critical to you? How do the places on the other side form you? How do those places prepare you for the next place?