The God who writes, the God who grows,
Whose story moves where no one knows.
He’s always love, forever true—
But every day, he makes things new.
He created the stars, setting them high.
He painted oceans and shaped the sky.
His story sparkles, grand and bright,
But his love said, “There’s more to write.”
The garden bloomed. The rivers ran.
He walked with his first created man.
But Adam turned from his Creator’s voice—
A twist of plot, a painful choice.
Did God give up? Oh no, not he.
He wrote a plan to set us free.
A hero’s path, a rugged way—
Love chose to fight, to heal, to stay.
He faced the cross. He bore the loss.
He bore the pain of the nails and the cross.
His victory came through abuse and strife.
Through his loss, he brought eternal life.
God’s not a hero, unchanging like stone.
All the time, he writes new stories of his own.
Through hearts, through time, his tale expands—
A living book in his loving, living hands.
He’s changeless, yes. His heart is sure.
His love is vast. His truth is pure.
Yet every day, his story grows—
Through all the hearts his mercy knows.
The story grows through grief and song,
Through right and wrong, through weak and strong.
Through every Why? and through every tear,
Our Creator bends his ear to hear.
And you, dear friend, you’re in this too—
A page he writes, a path brand new.
He calls you now. Come join the fight,
And grow his story, writing what’s right.
For many new stories are still being spun.
The work’s not finished, the final race not run.
The God who writes, the God who grows,
Invites us all—so on we go.
