What I Learned From Weaving Scripture Through Two Decembers

After exploring the different ways Scripture appears throughout Two Decembers, I keep returning to one conclusion:

The Bible doesn't need a novelist to make it powerful.

It needs a novelist to respect its power.

Respect its timing. Respect its weight. Respect the reader’s intelligence and the character’s humanity. When I got out of the way and let the verses do what they have been doing for millennia — meeting people in their need, speaking truth into chaos, offering a handhold in the dark — they proved more effective than any plot device I could have invented.

Scripture often meets us in ordinary places.

That is why Scripture in fiction should never feel like an ornament. At its best, it feels like a presence.

In Two Decembers, the verses work because they are tied to human need. They rise from the lives of people who are tired, afraid, tender, wounded, hopeful, and still searching.

The Word remains present because God remains present.

The Word can speak even in places of waiting.

The Word in the Story

The Scriptures woven through Two Decembers do not all do the same work. That is part of their beauty.

Matthew 11:28-30 becomes a lifeline. “Come to me, all who are weary and burdened...For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Jeremiah 17:14 becomes a prayer. “Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed..."

Luke 6:38 enters through the side door of conversation. "Give and it will be given to you..."

Proverbs 4:23 becomes an inheritance. “Above all else, guard your heart...”

Hebrews 13:2 reframes a lifetime of events. "Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers..."

1 John 4:18 becomes a preserved reminder of love. “Perfect love casts out fear..."

Each Scripture does something different.

And perhaps that is the greatest lesson.

The Word meets us differently because our needs are different.

A verse can become a remembered gift.

From Fiction to Life

Ultimately, this series isn't really about how Scripture functions in a novel.

A novel can show how Scripture moves through a character’s grief, love, memory, and waiting. But the deeper question is how Scripture moves through us.

The Bible does not simply belong on a bookshelf. It belongs in our fears. Our decisions. Our relationships. Our suffering. Our waiting. Our memories. Our uncertainty. Our hope.

The Word is alive. Hebrews 4:12 tells us so. My job was not to animate it but to place it where the living could find it — in a kitchen, at a doorway, on a beach, inside a Bible with a pressed flower — and trust that it would do what it has always done.

We do not have to make God’s Word powerful. We have to open ourselves to it.

The Word remains with us through quiet seasons.

The verse that will not leave you alone

So the final reflection is simple.

What Scripture is God placing in front of you in this season?

Not the verse you think you should choose. Not the one that sounds most impressive. The one you keep encountering. The one that will not leave you alone. The one that seems to appear at exactly the right moment.

It may be a word of comfort. It may be a call to courage. It may be an invitation to rest. It may be a reminder to guard your heart, forgive a wound, welcome a stranger, or trust love over fear.

Maybe that is not coincidence.

Maybe the Word is meeting you right where you are.