The first time a publication accepted a piece I wrote, my elation evaporated the moment I received the suggested revisions from the editor. Red lines crossing out words Iâd carefully crafted and labored over felt like darts stabbing my heart. âWill I ever get used to this?â I wondered.
Clicking âsendâ on the next few pieces I wrote took more courage than it should have, and a twinge of anxiety unsettled my stomach for days afterward. âHelp me, Lord. I canât continue like this,â I prayed. Iâm happy to report things changed for me, and they can for you too with a fresh perspective.Â
Refined by Fire
I no longer dread the editing process. God answered my prayer with Psalm 12:6ââThe words of the Lord are pure words, like silver tried in a furnace of earth, purified seven timesâ (NKJV).
Godâs Word is compared to pure silver. To make silver pure, refining is required to remove any impurities. Silver that has been refined seven times is purified to perfection. Likewise, Godâs Word is so pure that itâs absolutely perfectânot a single jot or tittle is out of place.
My words are far from perfect. Even when I finish a draft, Iâm under no illusion of having achieved perfection. But I do want my words to glorify God. So, as with silver, refining is necessary. The more I refine my words, the purer they get.
Itâs like the process of sanctification. Peter describes it this way: âIn this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faithâmore precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fireâmay be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christâ (1 Peter 1:6â7).
Godâs method of making us more like Jesus (so we reflect Him to the world in which we live) is to test our faith through trials. Itâs often a painful process, yet the value and beauty of its result are undeniableâlike gold refined by fire.
As the furnace purifies silver, and fire refines gold, so editing âsanctifiesâ our words.
From Mud to Market
Andrew Peterson describes his brother as a âformidable editorâ who actually âdelights in revisionâ and likens writing to creating something out of clay.
âIt takes work to harvest clay. You have to go to a stream and grab a bucket of mud, mix it with water, sift out the rougher sediment, pour off the water, allow the moisture to seep through a cloth for days. Thatâs your first draft. After that you get to flop the clay onto the pottery wheel and turn it into something better than mud, hopefully something both useful and beautiful. Thatâs revision. Whether youâre writing a song or a story, you have to shape it and reshape it, scrap it and start over, always working it as close as it can get to the thing it wants to become.â [1]
My city holds an annual spring market where skilled artists and crafters display their creations and shoppers select a one-of-a-kind treasure to bring home. This market is famous for its pottery, and a dear friend of mine has made a tradition of buying a new piece for her pottery collection here every year. Her collection is expansive and gorgeous. Every piece is a useful, beautiful, refined work of artânot a rough lump of clay.
No one would buy a chunk of mud! Left as is, it has no value. But it does have potentialâjust like our rough drafts. The pile of unrefined words that is our first draft has the potential to be something useful, beautiful, even inspiring. Yet it must first endure shaping and reshaping to smooth the gritty edges.
Embrace the Editing Process
As writers, we hope to craft beautiful prose and produce a written work thatâs valuable in some way. The idea that sparks our first draft convinces us we have the makings of a treasure. However, as with silver, gold, and pottery, beautiful, valuable, desirable treasures are not borne simply of inspiration, but are carefully crafted through the heat of the refining process.
What once was a terrifying necessity of my work as a writer has become something I relish. After my first draft has endured the refining furnace of the editing process, the treasure thatâs hiding beneath the messy lump of clay or tarnished piece of metal emerges smooth, glossy, and exquisite. It leaves me grateful for the pain and heat.
To paraphrase Peter, we rejoice in this, dear writerâthough now for a little while, if necessary, weâre grieved by the painful process of editing. The refinement of our words may result in a treasure thatâs pure and glorifies the God who created us to write. Let us embrace the sanctification of our words!
[1] Peterson, A. (2019). Chapter 8: The Black Box. In Adorning the Dark (pp. 78â79), B&H Publishing Group.