Are You Listening? by Valerie Ronald

 

There is an expectancy of hope resonating throughout time. Can you hear it?

A whisper, a murmur, a hum of anticipation beginning in a garden, rippling in a flood, rustling across a desert, then gaining volume in the voices of prophets. Someone is coming!

History thrums with portends of a coming king. In the fullness of time, God brings together nations, languages, people, and the alignment of stars. Like musical notes blending to create a singular symphony, God ordains precise circumstances for the birth of His royal Son.

Listen. Hear the stories beneath the Story. Be attentive to the fathomless mystery of God becoming man on that night long ago. Let this epiphany swell your spirit with the sounds of salvation.

Give mind to the messages from God spoken from the lips of an angel ˗˗

˗˗ telling Zechariah a son would be born to he and Elizabeth in their old age, destined to make ready a people prepared for the Lord. Imagine the inner dialogue between speechless Zechariah and his God while waiting for the birth of John the Baptist; unspoken words rising like incense for a coming king.

˗˗ announcing to a young woman the news she has been chosen by God to give birth to His Son, the Messiah. Hear Mary’s sharp intake of breath, her trembling voice when she questions how this can be be, since she is a virgin. Take note of the bravery with which she declares, “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.”

Can you overhear the murmuring among Joseph and Mary’s neighbors as the pair leave for Bethlehem? ˗˗ catch the whisper of Joseph’s hand brushing Mary’s sleeve in reassurance? Their eyes speak truth to each other, for they know their purpose, no matter what judging lips may say.

With each footstep on the rugged path, the young couple draw closer to their destiny. Amid the noisy streets of Bethlehem, bend near to catch the moans of Mary’s labor, the frantic queries of Joseph seeking a place to stay. Finally they end up in a lowly stable, innocent creatures the only ones to welcome the Innocent One. The air is thick with the odor of oxen and donkeys, a flickering lamp barely holding darkness at bay. Mingling with brays and bleats, Mary’s cries grow more intense as her pains increase. Heaven holds its breath, bending near to catch the first cry of a newborn baby. With that cry, almost lost in the cacophony of bellowing beasts and bedlam of crowds, God speaks His Word into time.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1 NIV)

Jesus Christ came as a spoken Word, sent to be heard by all who seek peace with God. He who made our ears to hear, speaks His message of love and salvation clearly in His coming. No one is denied its life-changing truth. Few open the ears of their heart to hear it; most disregard it. Many are openly hostile to it. Yet His spoken Word continues to ring down through the ages. It won’t always be so. Someday He will call those who truly hear and believe to come home to Him. Home to the place in which ~

“~ eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him. (1 Cor. 2:9 NKJV)

Are you listening? 

 

Valerie Ronald writes from an old roll top desk in Portage la Prairie, Manitoba, with her tortoiseshell cat for a muse. A graduate of Langara College School of Journalism, she writes devotionals, fiction and inspirational prose. Her purpose in writing is to encourage others to grow in their spiritual walk.

Quiet Words Listen by Alan Anderson

 

After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.—I Kings 19:11-12 (NIV)

 

The posts this month are words of life to me as a reader. The prompt for May causes me to ponder even as I write my post. The simple yet profound statement of our own, Lynn Simpson, has me recall a personal experience with the intimacy of words. In her post of October 3, 2020, Lynn noted, “Yet, I have now learned, our voices don’t have to be loud to be a role in change.” I love her line and resonate with it in a big way. As I continue here, please allow me to explain.

https://inscribewritersonline.blogspot.com/2020/10/what-breaks-your-heart.html.

 

A Brief View of My Depression of 1997

 

The fog came down first and gripped me. Before long, the grey of the fog led me into the black of a tunnel. I am trapped. No, I am lost.

 

I look at my words, and they look at me. None of us speak. There is no urgency, only stillness. I smile, and my words wink at me. A thought keeps going through my mind. “What do I do? Where do I take these words and care for them?” Suddenly they move. My words sit beside me, then embrace me. Their embrace sweeps over my thoughts and emotions. I realize my words care for me. They listened to me in the stillness. My mind clears and I know what to do. I too must listen. My words came to me unhurried, quiet, gentle, and changed me.

Depression Taught Me to Listen

The fog, the tunnel, the loneliness, and the darkness taught me about myself. This time of depression allowed me to confront my insecurity, fears, and doubts in life. I realized I had given too many years to them. I listened to the wrong words.

 

In my experience with depression, I also experienced the intimacy of words. This time where I withdrew into myself taught me to listen. I learned to listen more to who I am as a person. As I learned more about the art of listening, it helped me to listen to other people.

 

One’s ability to listen shows a more personal and helpful approach to come alongside people. Listening skills proved essential in my work as a chaplain. To listen to people who live with a progressive or terminal illness taught me about life. I call them “my teachers.” My teachers taught me to use words in a quiet manner.

 

Please allow me to recall one precious visit. The person lived with Alzheimer’s disease. She no longer spoke in an audible voice. She did, however, like to hold hands. This is how we spoke to each other. No words. I learned to listen with my eyes as well. Her eyes smiled. Her eyes told me she would die soon. A lesson I will never forget.

 

Here are a few humble lessons to share with you. 

11. Practice stillness. There is no need to rush through every day.

22.  Listen to stories people may speak from their darkness. The darkness can be crippling. They may need help to find God’s light.

33. Be gentle with those in the darkness. Listen to their words even if they stumble. This may open them to hearing your quiet words.

44.  We listen to show we care. Your words don’t have to be loud to make a difference.

55.  My depression had a purpose. God did not leave me.

 

 

Alan lives in Deroche, B.C. with his wife, Terry. He contributed stories to Good Grief People by Angel Hope Publishing, 2017, Story by Story: The Power of a Writer, Unstoppable Writers Publishing, 2018, and Easter Stories & More, by InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship, 2021. He has also written articles for FellowScript Magazine. Blog: https://scarredjoy.ca. Alan is the Provincial Rep. Liaison and BC Rep for InScribe.

 

“Lord Have Mercy” by Alan Anderson

 

“Love sinners, but hate their deeds, and do not disdain sinners for their failings, so that you yourself do not fall into the temptation in which they abide… Do not be angry at anyone and do not hate anyone, neither for their faith, nor for their shameful deeds… Do not foster hatred for the sinner, for we are all guilty… Hate his sins, and pray for him, so that you may be made like unto Christ, who had no dislike for sinners, but prayed for them.”

(St. Isaac the Syrian, Homily 57,90)

 

If there is ever a month of our blog posts to weep over this is the one. This theme of social justice causes me to pull within myself. I find myself overwhelmed by the fragility of people as I read our posts this month.

For decades now, my heart has grieved for the unborn. Canada’s form of barbarism is most noticeable in our country’s absence of laws on abortion. Even our politicians seem to avoid discussion in terms of the inhumanity of abortion. I am thankful I gave up trust in politicians years ago. I also grieve for Canada in the decision the Canadian government took by inflicting Medical Assistance in Dying on the country. Lord have mercy. 

Rather than go off on a tangent about Canada’s barbarism, I have decided on a different direction for this post. This month’s blog theme fills me with love for our InScribe family of writers. You all care for our world in word and deed. We walk through this theme of social justice together with hearts bonded by love.

Not too long ago, I posted a brief message on Facebook to counteract the negativity expressed on social media. Here is what I wrote. “Shh! Can you hear it? Listen. Yes, listen. Shh be still. No, don't move. Listen. Calm your heart. Sit alone. Listen. Listen. Ahh, yes, the still small voice of God amidst the confused clamor of the world.” Simple, right? This Facebook post expressed my need to slow down and listen.

The blog posts this month remind me of the tenderness God has placed on the hearts of His people. My friends, your messages are an encouragement for us to slow down and listen to your beautiful hearts. You help in this child of God being determined to love people. To love others is more of God than judging them. In my lifelong sadness over abortion and euthanasia, I cling to love and not judging people. 

Sin has damaged humanity. None of us is without sin. In Eastern Orthodox Christianity we have a saying used in a simple prayer. We ask for God’s compassion on us, “Lord have mercy.” Lord, have compassion, have mercy on those who cause injustices. Lord have mercy on victims of injustices. Lord have mercy on those of us involved in ministries of compassion. Lord have mercy on us all. 

Dear InScribe family of writers and readers, listen. Despite the confused clamor of the world, God still speaks.  Take a few minutes when you finish reading here to listen to God. 

Dear friends, writers, and readers, what have you taken away from our posts this month?

Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy. 

 

 

https://scarredjoy.ca/

I Have Only to Listen by Joylene M. Bailey

Photo from Pixabay

You will be in an accident today.

These are the words I heard as I left our country driveway to spend a long day in the city running errands. Our three little girls were strapped in the back seat of my van. 

We had much to accomplish that day and I had lists upon lists doing loops in my head as I paused by our black mailbox at the end of the gravel driveway. 

In the middle of all that brain clutter, and just as I started to pull forward, the words you will be in an accident today zapped like lightning on a perfectly clear day. I put on the brakes.

Did I hear that right? Surely that was just a weird random thought.

Nevertheless, I prayed for God’s protection, then triple checked both ways and eased onto the highway. All through the day I was hyper vigilant; double checking left and right before making a turn, waiting a few seconds longer when the traffic light turned green, scanning side roads, checking and rechecking the rear-view mirror, and rubbernecking to see past blind spots.

As we neared the end of our day and our errands, I began to think that the morning’s thought must have been my wild imagination after all. Then, as I slowly ventured into an uncontrolled intersection on a residential street, a red sportscar came barreling towards us from the right. I slammed on my brakes as he sped by, scraping his driver’s side quarter panel across my front bumper. He never stopped.

I remember sitting there stunned. If I had been going at regular speed, we would likely have been hit broadside. But the words that morning had made me cautious all day. And for many weeks after, the streak of red paint on my black bumper reminded me of God’s extraordinary direction and protection.

Like others who have written here, I’ve had multiple experiences when I’ve felt God’s extraordinary direction. Not all of them have been as dramatic as this story. Some have been a quiet obedience to the still small voice, with nobody to witness it but Him. But all of them together have affected my writing, because they have taught me how important it is to listen. 

These days, more than ever before, I try to listen for His direction before I sit down to write. What is it that He wants me to say? Sometimes I head into my writing day with a clear idea of what that is, and other times it’s not until I actually begin that it becomes clearer.

Then, I try to listen while I write. As the words and ideas flow onto the page, some feel right and some don’t. I take that as God's direction.  

Finally, after it’s written, I “listen” for a sense of peace about it. When peace is there, then I’m pretty sure it has His okay.

This “listening” for His direction in my writing is a practice I’m still trying to make a habit. Many days I forget and fail to do it. It's a conscious act that I regularly need to remind myself to do. 

I really think God directs us all the time but we - at least, I - don't always recognize it. My responsibility is to listen.  

One more story to reinforce that thought ...

This is a true account of how my daughter received God's extraordinary direction through her four-year-old son. She’d been misrepresented and falsely accused by a superior in her business and was enraged and upset as she headed out for a walk, pushing her one-year-old twins in the stroller. Little Man, walking beside her and completely oblivious to her feelings, suddenly asked, “Mommy, can you tell me a story about a little girl named Grace?” 

We have only to listen.

~~~~~

Joy lives in Edmonton with The Cowboy and Babe. Find her joy infused view of the world at Scraps of Joy.

Still Swinging - Joylene M. Bailey

To be perfectly honest, the prompt for this month stymied me. In fact, I must have blocked it entirely from my thoughts because here I am at 10 pm the night before my deadline, trying to come up with something about my process in reviewing my goals.

But I can't. 


If you'll remember, I'm the one out in the middle of that swinging rope bridge, hanging over a gorge. 


No goals to review. No process. 
Just quiet. Just listening for His voice. Just cutting out the busyness.

Oh yes, God was serious when He asked me to do this. Because every time something would come across my line of sight - a great webinar on marketing, a request to help at a conference, a creative writing course - I'd sense that halt in my spirit and be reminded: no busyness, quiet, listen.

I'm not even attending Inscribe's Fall Conference this year, which is still a shock to me. However, that directive was made clear to me in more than one "God-wink", as Bobbi Junior likes to call them.

So, if quietness, listening, and non-busyness are the goals, then here I am reviewing them:

In my quietness, am I showing up regularly at my writing desk to write what God wants me to write? That depends on what "regularly" means. It's not as regular as I'd envisioned, but a lot more regular than it used to be. 
Progress.

Am I showing up in the opportunities He places in my path to Love God and Love People?
Yes. 
It's amazing, actually, how much easier it is to notice people when one is not busy. So, I get it, Lord.  I get that You needed me to stop and see. Not just see others, but see how I so easily fall into the trap of stress and busyness, because DOING is so much a part of our culture.

Perhaps my productivity is not something that can be measured in this season on the swinging bridge - not by human standards, anyway.

So here I stand, in the middle of this swinging rope bridge, hanging on to the One who asked me to cross it with Him. It hasn't been scenic and lovely all the time. There have been some jerky, scary spots along the way. But I must say, I'm so glad I trusted Him. 

Who knows what awaits me on the other side.

Joylene writes from Edmonton where she lives with her husband, daughter #3, and a cat named Calvin. You can find her at Scraps of Joy.

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My Community of Writers Thus Far by Alan Anderson

“I thank my God every time I remember you” (Philippians 1:3)

I wear different “hats” as it were as I make my way through my journey of life.  I am a husband, a dad, a papa, a brother, a cousin, an uncle, a friend, a spiritual health professional and a child of God.  My relationship with God is the only one that allows me to be a child.  I kind of miss being a child!  More about that perhaps another time!

I would be negligent if I did not include I am also a writer.  I love writing!  I love reading as well!  In my writing I like to choose my words well.  In life I also like to choose my friends well!

I am a member of InScribe Christian Writer’s Fellowship and The Word Guild.  I choose my writing relationships well and have learned a lot from writers in these groups.  A goal I have is to one day be as helpful to these writers as they are to me!  I am immensely thankful for the encouragement I receive from such caring writers here and would like to mention a few.  Unknown to them, they are my community of writers!

Glynis M. Belec is a major encourager to me!  She is one of the experienced writers encouraging me to take the plunge and write one of the books living in my heart.  She is one of my stars!  I could go on but wouldn’t want her to start blushing! Well. Maybe I would!  Susan Harris is another writer I love like a sister, although we have never met and has been an inspiration to me.  Bobbi Junior is what I see as a writer unafraid to be frank and honest in her stories.  I love the blog posts of Gloria Guest.  I seem to resonate with her words many times.  Tracy Krauss gave me my first opportunity to post on a regular basis.  I am grateful to her for helping me bring some of my word friends into the light.  Christine Lindsay recently allowed me to be a guest author on her blog and has invited me to do so again.  Irish Beth Maddock makes words alive for children and is a treasure!  Ruth Snyder has also been a tremendous encouragement to me in her writing and leadership of InScribe.  Sheila Webster, our fearless editor of FellowScript Magazine, gave me a wonderful surprise recently by asking me to write an article.  That was an amazing honour!

If readers will please forgive the length of the paragraph above I would be grateful!  I just wanted to name a few people I admire.  I must note that I have never met any of my community of writers in person so far.  That will hopefully change some day in God’s timing!

Although I have come alongside people for many years and listened to their stories I have often been reluctant to share my own with others.  Perhaps my introversion has allowed that.  I can listen to the stories of joy and pain all the way to a person’s last few moments of her or his life.  I still, however, on some level resist the thought that people would be interested in my story.  Due to the encouragement of my community of writers I am taking my writing journey one step at a time.

My community of writers is in my prayers! I love you all!

Blog: ScarredJoy@wordpress.com