WHEN POETRY FEELS LIKE PRAYER

As Christian writers, we share our faith because we know how precious faith is.

I’ve been writing poetry for many years. From the time I was about fourteen, when I wrote my first poem for my English class. My teacher encouraged me to keep at it. So I did. 

Dozens of years and dozens of journals later, I’m still writing. 

In the last eight years or so, my poetry has become a reflection of my recovery journey, rooted in faith and celebrating the freedom I’ve found in Christ.

Every day, I begin with a Bible verse, and from it a poem flows. As I sit quietly, the words come. They flow from a source much greater than me. They’re a gift. One God has spoken to my heart. One, He directs. 

The poetry doesn’t come from me.

It comes from Him. 

The words teach me. They bring clarity to His message of grace woven throughout scripture. They connect me to Him and feed my soul.

More often, they feel like prayer. It’s the way God reveals His presence to me. The way He speaks to me.

As I write, my focus is entirely on Him. That’s the true gift. Finding Him in the stillness and breathing in His presence. 

God’s gift has a purpose.

I share the words because I’m compelled to. If they reach one soul lost in darkness, one heart in need of hope, then I’ve fulfilled God’s purpose and honored His gift.

That’s what we’re called to do. To use the gifts God gives us to glorify and honor His name.

We’re His hands and feet in this world. Instruments for His good. As Christian writers, we share our faith because we know how precious faith is.

We answer God’s call to witness because His grace has transformed us. When we reach for Him, He’s there. 

His direction is clear: “I will give you My message in the form of a vision. Write it clearly enough to be read at a glance.” (HABAKKUK 2:2).

Every time we do, we honor Him.

WHEN POETRY FEELS LIKE PRAYER

When poetry feels like prayer,

I stop and let the words,

take me to the stillness,

far from the deafening world.

I sit inside the quiet,

as the words begin to flow,

allow my heart to hold them,

as their purpose in me grows.

My hand becomes the instrument,

the tool with which I write,

the vessel that records them,

before they can take flight. 

The paper is the canvas,

that waits so patiently,

for the moment they are given,

and make their way through me.

When poetry feels like prayer,

I thank God for the words,

that tell me He is with me,

as I move through this world.

That this blessing He has granted,

serves a purpose for His glory.

That the words I write are not my own,

They’re His eternal story.

JN Fenwick (©2026) 

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JN Fenwick | mothjournal14 | ©2026 | All rights reserved. | I DO NOT WALK THIS RECOVERY JOURNEY ALONE.

I’m JN Fenwick

Wife, mom, but more importantly, a recovering alcoholic with a grateful heart. For years, I struggled, not just with alcohol, but with an eating disorder and the burdens of guilt and shame. On March 22, 2018, I surrendered my life to Christ. I was 51. God did not forsake me. He welcomed me, as undeserving as I am. He did not see my brokenness. Instead, He saw my potential. My Recovery Journey is one of Faith. From the ashes of my failures, God built a fire in me. A fire that guides each step I take. My journey is yours. My healing can be yours, too. God is a mighty warrior. You can take comfort in the promise that the Lord will fight for you and grant you peace.