Ears that Hear by Marcia Lee Laycock

 Ears that Hear by Marcia Lee Laycock

                                                    Photo by Mohamed Nohassi on Unsplash

I watched an interesting movie some time ago, called August Rush. It’s a story about an orphaned boy who is a musical prodigy. He believes that if he follows the music he hears all around him it will lead him to his parents. As he realizes he can make music, he believes that his parents will hear it and they’ll find him. So he sets out to follow the music he hears and to use the gift he was given. He wanders the streets of the city and is taken in, (in more ways than one), by a street musician (Robin Williams) who sees the boy as a ticket to fortune.

After watching the DVD we clicked on some of the deleted scenes. One in particular struck me. Robin Williams, the street musician who is exploiting the boy’s talent, cries out in anguish as he admits, “I can’t hear it – the music – I can’t hear it anymore. But you can – so play! Play!

The scene moved me because I believe we have all, to one degree or another, lost the ability to hear, the ability to see, the ability to feel in the way God intends. I believe the premise of the movie is right – if we hear, see and feel what God has put before us, and use our gift to express it, it will lead us to where we are supposed to be. But the corruption of the world has robbed us of the ability. Our own corruption prevents it.

The good news is that it can be redeemed. We can come alive again through the power of Jesus Christ and the indwelling of His Spirit. We can learn to hear His voice in the very air around us, to see His face in the creation He has given us, and to feel with compassion and grace as He created us to do. And we can continually find ways to express it by honing our talent and skill.

As writers who are Christian I believe this is essential. And it’s something we have to work at. The corruption around us and even in us will do its worst to prevent that connection with God that will lead us to Him. It will prevent us from hearing the Holy Spirit and using the gift He gave us, the gift that will lead those who need to hear our words, to us and to our work.

The good news is that God always wins. His purposes will be fulfilled and He will be glorified. As we listen to His voice, feel His Spirit rise within us and see his glory in the world around us, and express it in our work, His purposes for our lives will be fulfilled. We will be fulfilled in the truest sense of the word.

The street musician in that movie was a tragic character – one who has lost what he was given, through his own sin and the sin of those around him. May we guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. May we all have ears to hear and eyes to see.

"You will be ever hearing but never understanding; you will be ever seeing but never perceiving. For this people's heart has become calloused; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes... but blessed are your eyes because they see and your ears because they hear." (Matthew 13:14-16, NIV).

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Be Mine by Marcia Lee Laycock

 

Be Mine by Marcia Lee Laycock

Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash

I ripped the cellophane wrapping off the small package with delight. The cards my mother had bought that morning were perfect. They were bright red with hearts all over them and short funny sayings appropriate for Valentine’s Day. I spent all that evening addressing the envelopes and signing my name to all the cards. All, that is, but one.

There was one card in the package that was larger than the rest. It said, “Be Mine,” and the verse inside was not funny. In fact, to me, it was so serious that my heart beat faster. This card was going to someone I thought was deserving of something so special. His name was Darryl. I was ten years old and I was “in love.”

I did not sign my name to the card addressed to Darryl because I was afraid. I did not want to admit my feelings for fear of being rejected. What if he just laughed? What if he threw the card in the trash and someone else saw that it was from me? What if he left it behind on an empty desk for anyone to see? No. I would not put my name on that card, but I would pray that Darryl would know who it was from.

Giving your love and affection to someone is a risk. You become vulnerable to being hurt, to rejection, perhaps even to ridicule. Jesus knew all about that when He agreed to be born as a tiny babe on earth. He knew that many would spurn His love. Many would scorn his affection. Many would just laugh. And then a mob would demand His death. No one would understand. None of it would look like a fairy-tale and the ending was anything but happy. It would look like defeat and it would stink of death.

But it was the greatest act of love this world has ever seen. Christ gave up the glories of heaven, took on the physical limitations of a human body and then allowed that body to be tortured and killed. He did it all so that we would be able to live in the presence of His Father’s love eternally. He did it with an anguished cry of, “Be Mine!”

Jesus was neither afraid nor embarrassed to sign his name on the card that revealed His love for us. His card was a cross erected on a hill outside the city of Jerusalem. He signed it with His own blood and when it was delivered to the world at the moment he died, all the barriers between us and God were torn down. Forgiveness was ours for the asking and hope became a reality.

It was therefore true when the apostle Paul said to the people in Rome – “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38-39, NIV)

That is a Valentine worth cherishing.

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Thank you for taking the time to read. My name is Marcia Lee Laycock and I invite you to follow me if you’d like to read more of my work about finding your way home, into the arms of Jesus. 😊 You can find me on Medium at Pond’rings and Words on the Wing and a few other publications along the way.

For more information about my writing and speaking ministry, check out my website 

Sign up for my newsletter to receive sporadic updates and a free short story. 😊

Growing Into It by Marcia Lee Laycock

Photo by Marcia Lee Laycock

                                                        

They called him “Corner” because whenever anyone went near him he’d run into a corner and quiver. When I saw the grey husky-shepherd cross for the first time he was outside, running through the bush, low to the ground like a wolf on the prowl. My friend told me he was going to have to shoot him if someone didn’t come along and take him away. So I decided to try. It took me a week to get close enough to touch him and another few days before I could get a collar and leash on him.

Once at home I began a rehabilitation program – good food, lots of soft words and kind pets. And a name change. Corner became Klondike. He took to his name well and was eager to please me as I began to train him. My neighbour said he looked like a cartoon character, with ears that were too big for his face and paws that told us he was going to be a big dog. As time went on, Klondike grew into his ears and his paws and his name. He became my constant companion, ever obedient and extremely protective. Klondike became my guardian angel and I know he saved me on more than one occasion.

As I saved Corner, giving him a new name and a new life, Jesus did the same for me. Shortly after I yielded my will and my life to Him, I opened my new Bible and read this verse: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are mine” (Isaiah 43:1, NKJV).

That was a significant moment for me because for much of my life people had called me by a name that was not mine. My mother, whose heritage was British, named me Marcia, pronounced Mar-see-uh with the accent on the first syllable. At home I was Marci. But when I went to school my teachers began calling me Marsha. I was too shy to correct them and although I disliked it, went along with that name and that identity until I was out of high school. At university I insisted that everyone call me by the name my mother had given me.

To this day people often mispronounce my name, either using Marsha or putting the emphasis on the last syllable. But now it doesn’t bother me so much, because I know the One who created me knows my name. That’s all that matters.

It matters, too, that I live up to the name I’ve been given. I don’t want to be like Abigail’s husband, Nabal, whom she said lived up to his name, which meant stupid. (Read the story in 1 Samuel 25). I’d rather be like Simon whose name was changed to Peter (the rock) and who grew into that name as God strengthened and guided him into his new identity as a leader of His church. Or Abram, who became Abraham and Sarai who became Sarah. They grew into their names too, as they fulfilled the destiny God had planned for them.

So what’s in a name? Identity is wrapped up in it. As we grow into the identity we were meant to have, we grow into the name we have been given – Children of God.

“… that you become blameless and harmless, children of God without fault in the midst of a crooked and perverse generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world ...” (Philippians 2:15).

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Visit my website to learn more about my writing and speaking ministry.

 

 

 

Theme Bible Verses for Inspirational Writers - Wendy L. Macdonald

Theme Bible verses for inspirational writers can help us remember why we're writing. I—or rather—the Holy Spirit - chose a theme verse for me that fits in with what I believe He's been speaking to me about my faith and writing for 2018. You’re invited to try and guess which verse it is before I list it at the end of this post.

The nudge to focus more on this verse started when I watched a YouTube video by Nabeel Qureshi, a well-known speaker who is also a former Muslim. It was his final vlog because cancer cut his life short even though he battled it as bravely as he could. But he had peace because he left the final outcome to God; he knew cancer was a dust bunny God could easily sweep out of his body.

His final words were about love:

• He stressed love as being the greatest thing. 
• He didn’t want us—the body of Christ—to lose sight of it or forget it.

So when a good friend told me she was battling cancer. My heart turned to stone and dropped to the lowest level of hope when she also mentioned how hugely the odds were stacked against her.

I figured if God allowed someone even younger than us to die of cancer, who was I to believe and ask Him to save my friend from this despicable foe?

Real faith chooses to believe. 

So I asked for healing for her. And the more I prayed, the more my heart lightened and the more my hope grew.

What is faith if I don’t exercise it? 

What is faith if it doesn’t ask for good things for others, even impossible things? 

Faith hopes, believes, and therefore asks. 

Because real faith goes to work; it doesn’t call in sick.

My friend did beat the first round of cancer; against the odds, those nasty dust bunnies were blown to bits. And we all rejoiced because God said yes that time. She is now battling a second round of cancer that showed up in another part of her body, and prayers are once again being sent to the One who is more than able to demolish the delinquent cells.

 We know He can, and we hope He will.

Now back to my verse of the year:

It’s no surprise that God would point out a verse related to the very thing I’ve been secretly and not-so-secretly complaining about. If I’m going to whine about a lack of love in the world, then I should be part of the solution. I should fill more of my writing with it.

This oft missing ingredient is the same thing I saw shining in the face of my sweet friend so many years ago when she expressed her faith through it; she prayed for me privately, invited me to her house Bible study, and then invited me to her church because of it—because of love.

Love.

As I go into 2018, I want to write words penned with unconditional love.

The world needs more of love’s ink spilled across pages of books, magazines, blogs, vlogs, podcasts, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and face to face too. I’m going to share this message through doors that are already open and knock on doors I believe He’s asking me to brave.

Because:

The only thing that matters is faith

 expressing itself through love. 

Galatians 5:6 NIV

What’s your favorite verse right now? I’m nosy-to-know. 

Falling Leaves By Marcia Lee Laycock

Leaves Hanging On

We once lived on a hillside facing a small wood. In the fall, the bush across from our house would be a blaze of gold and russet. When the sun fell on it, the effect was startling, as the colors seemed to glow. But the fall temperatures, winds and rains would eventually do their damage; the trees would look more grey and dismal by the day as their colour was stripped away. Soon there would be nothing but barren tree trunks with the odd withered leaf hanging on.

Just as darkness was falling one night, I was looking out my kitchen window, thinking how this time of year can be a bit depressing. Then I noticed a twinkling through the branches. The lights of the town below were coming on, and because most of the leaves were gone, they were showing through the trees. As I watched, it became a delightful dance of light. The next morning I noticed, not the barren trees, but the view emerging beyond them. With the foliage disappearing, the river valley was emerging. I could already see the main street. Soon the river would be visible, and the bridge that connected the two halves of the town. Soon I’d be able to see it all.

There are times in our lives when it feels like everything is being stripped away, when there is no colour left, no joy in the day. At these times it’s hard to see the purpose in what is happening, hard to find meaning in it. But it is often during these hard times that we gain new perspective and begin to see what was hidden. When hard times come, all that is superfluous is stripped away and what is real, what matters, comes into focus. It is often at such times that we are able to see God.

The Bible is peopled with those who were in this situation; lepers cried out to Jesus, blind men groped to be close to Him, the sick reached out just to touch His robe, believing they would be healed. Their hope came from a clear-sightedness that resulted from being in barren places. When all is stripped away, we have an opportunity to shift our perspective and see what lies beyond. It is an opportunity to reach out for God.

But we don’t have to wait for that day. We can gain that perspective at any time, simply by seeking God with a whole-hearted earnestness. One of His greatest promises is found in Matthew 7:7 – “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” Not only that, but God has also given us a helper. When Jesus left this earth He promised to send His spirit to guide and direct us. That same Spirit is available to us today. He will help us to see what is hidden, to see beyond the distractions of life to what is real and important.

The trees might look beautiful but the view beyond is magnificent. 
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Marcia Lee Laycock writes from central Alberta Canada where she is a pastor's wife and mother of three adult daughters. She was the winner of The Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One Smooth Stone. The sequel, A Tumbled Stone was short listed in The Word Awards. Marcia also has four devotional books in print and has contributed to several anthologies. Her work has been endorsed by Sigmund Brouwer, Janette Oke, Phil Callaway and Mark Buchanan.

Abundant Rain, an ebook devotional for writers can be downloaded on Smashwords or on Amazon. It is also now available in Journal format on Amazon. 

Her most recent release is Celebrate This Day, a devotional book for special occasions like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving. 

Visit Marcia’s Website

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It’s All About Memory ... But Then, It’s Not - by Marcia Lee Laycock

Photo from Morguefile.com

Memory is a slippery thing. It can fade with time and it’s often subjective. I’ve been reading a bit about writing memoir lately and one of the things that writers often struggle with as they attempt it, is the fact that what one person remembers may not be at all similar to what others remember about the same event. No two people will see a thing the same way and sometimes those we write about may not agree with our perspective.

This became apparent to me when I wrote a piece about my mom called Dancing in the Kitchen, published in A Second Cup of HotApple Cider. I gave the book to my mom as a gift. She said nothing about the story so while visiting one day I asked if she liked it. “Yes,” she said, “but that’s not how I remember it.”

When I asked her to explain she said she didn’t think the incident was in any way significant. But to me, the moment when my mom taught my two small daughters how to tap dance, even though she had a brace on her leg and a cane in her hand, was a moment I will never forget. It was my memory. My job was to record what I felt at that moment.

Sometimes memories can be blocked or change significantly if a traumatic event has happened. And then there are all those pesky details to worry about – did that walk out of the jungle in Papua New Guinea take five hours or six? When did my mother start working out of our home? It seemed she always did, but my sister says she didn’t start until I was in school.

All of these things can prevent a writer from trying to write memoir because they are afraid they won’t get it right. Or perhaps there are things they would rather not have written down in black and white. 

I had those fears until I attended a short workshop with Sigmund Brouwer and his wife, Cindy Morgan, just after Sigmund’s book Thief of Glory, (a story based on his father’s life), was published. Sigmund talked about the fact that memoir is not autobiography. Not every detail needs to be, nor should be, recorded, and if some of the details aren’t true, that’s okay. Being true to yourself and to your own memories, and to the story, is what’s key. Sigmund commentedd that what you leave out is sometimes just as important as what you leave in and will be determined by what you want your readers to feel.

As I wrote my play, A Pattern in Blue, about my father’s experience during WW2, I was very conscious of trying to get it right, trying to fit all the scattered pieces of that historical event together into a whole that would tell my father’s story and move those who read it or saw it on the stage. At times I despaired of ever getting it exactly right. I was careful with the historical detail but how could I really know what my father felt as he stood at the gates of Bergen-Belsen? How could I really know what he felt in the psychiatric hospital where he spent several months?  

I had to imagine it. The story has been told. It has been read and seen on a stage and the response of those who saw it told me that I accomplished what I set out to do. I told the truth as I believed it would have been.

It’s all about the story. It’s all about making it come alive for the reader and audience. 

It’s all about memory ... but then, it’s not.

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Marcia Lee Laycock writes from central Alberta Canada where she is a pastor's wife and mother of three adult daughters. She was the winner of The Best New Canadian Christian Author Award for her novel, One Smooth Stone. The sequel, A Tumbled Stone was short listed in The Word Awards. Marcia also has two devotional books in print and has contributed to several anthologies. Her work has been endorsed by Sigmund Brouwer, Janette Oke, Phil Callaway and Mark Buchanan.

Abundant Rain, an ebook devotional for writers can be downloaded on Smashwords or on Amazon. It is also now available in Journal format on Amazon. 

Her most recent release is the first book in a fantasy series, The Ambassadors

Visit Marcia’s Website

Sign up to receive her devotional column, The Spur