Ears that Hear - M. Laycock

I watched an interesting movie the other night 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. 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 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, 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).

Joe Who? - Lynda Shultz

When I was eight my heroes were Lassie and The Lone Ranger. That was before I met Joe Bonikowski.

There wasn't much to do in our little town. During the summer, I tagged along with my brothers doing whatever they did. That usually amounted to hanging around the drug store, playing baseball, or swimming in the river. In the winter, we donned skates or snowshoes. I tried to imitate Dave, Danny, Frank and Jimmy, but since I was the youngest, some activities earned me the "wait until you are older" thing.

The local undersized hockey team bore the oversized name of The Temagami Timber Wolves. Dad and I went to just about every practice and all the games. Archrivals, Latchford and Haileybury, killed us on the ice, but nobody beat us at cheering.

I first met Mr. Bonikowski at the rink. He was an old man then. Of course. everyone is old when you are eight. He'd worked in the bush for most of his life, cutting trees and hauling logs. Now he did odd jobs at the arena; changing light bulbs, repairing the wooden benches we warmed, and picking up Juicy Fruit wrappers and empty Coke cans.

When Dad couldn't come with me to watch my brothers play, Mr. B. would often come and sit down beside me. Neither of us said much, but somehow he seemed to know how much I wanted to be on the ice playing, not just watching and cheering.

Then when I turned ten, I got my big break. The Temagami Timber Wolves ran out of players. Like I said, Temagami is a REALLY small town. The season had just begun and the team's right-winger took a check into the boards and broke his wrist, Neither the coach nor the rest of the kids were too happy about letting me try out. However, faced with the possibility of losing the entire season and the long-awaited chance at revenge on the teams from the neighbouring towns, they swallowed their objections. Mom imagined my broken body carried out of the arena on a stretcher. Even Dad was doubtful.

But I made it. All those street hockey games with my brothers were paying off.

I was to start in Saturday's game against The Haileybury Hurricanes. I was thrilled—and suddenly terrified.

On Friday afternoon, I walked over to the rink. Mr. Bonikowski was there. He was throwing sand around the front entrance. The snow had melted and then frozen again, and it was slippery.

"Gonna play tomorrow, eh?"

"Yup."

"Scared?"

Was it that obvious? I had grabbed my star and now didn't know exactly what to do with it.

"A little."

"Don't worry."

"Everyone thinks I'll mess up."

"You won't."

"How do you know?"

"Gotta have faith."

"In God?"

I went to Sunday School, but God's interest in hockey had never been mentioned. I figured he was more concerned with Saturday night baths—you know, "cleanliness is next to godliness"—than he was in Hockey Night in Canada on TV.

"Sure. Faith in God is good. Faith in you, too."

"Do you have faith in me?"

"Hundred percent."

He sensed my doubts, so he added: "You'll see tomorrow."

The next night I waddled to the rink behind my brothers. I'd put my gear on at home. The boards thumped underneath my skates as I made my way past the dressing room.

Then I saw it.

To the left of the dressing room there had been a broom closet. The buckets, brooms, and cleaning cloths were gone, leaving behind a wooden bench and a peg nailed to the wall. The sign Cleaning Supplies was gone. In its place, carefully carved on a piece of two-by-four, was Helen's Dressing Room.

Joe had proven his faith in me and had planted the seeds of mine. The first girl to play juvenile hockey was here to stay, and I had a real-life, heaven-sent hero.

It's All About You Jesus - Jan Keats

The joy of your Salvation
To share and experience,
Is all about you Jesus,
The message of love and grace
To bestow without measure,
Is all about you Jesus.

The intricate handiwork
Of all creation,
Is all about you Jesus,
The power to hold the heavens in place,
And the gentle provisions of inner peace,
Is all about you Jesus.

The long and narrow road
And the traveled beaten path,
Is all about you Jesus,
The heavy cross that
Carved the rugged grooves
Is all about you Jesus.

The majestic splendor of heaven
And our eternal rewards,
Is all about you Jesus,
To live a holy life and
Love our neighbors as ourselves,
Is all about you Jesus.

The songs of praise we sing,
The souls that seek your face
Is all about you Jesus,
The prayers that are answered,
The redemption we await
Is all about you Jesus!


Copyright Jan Keats

Too Busy?

“I’d like to, but I’m just too busy. . . .”

Life is like a smorgasbord: so many activities to pick from, many look too good to pass up. My plate fills up so quickly and time, like my tummy, has a way of getting stuffed before the plate is empty. It takes careful planning to finish the choices before the end of each day. Even with the best of scheduling, interruptions or health problems or a host of other things can leave me with a pile of “leftovers.”

Sometimes I chide myself with the fact I have just as many hours as the President of the United States . . . and look at all he accomplishes. But my husband brings me back to earth with, “You have the same hours, dear, but not the same staff!”

Because we are made in the image of God and because we function best when living like it, some of the best secrets of time management are found by looking at His use of time. Aside from the fact that He created and controls it, He also stepped into it, in the person of Jesus Christ. We have a record of only three years of His life, yet in that three years, He made an impact on the world that no man has made before or since. I’m sure His use of time had something to do with it.

Before anyone protests “but He is God . . . ,” He was also fully human. He became tired, thirsty and hungry, just as we do. Not only that, His days only had twenty-four hours - just the same as ours.

A GOOD START: Perhaps the greatest secret of His time management was that Jesus “rose up before it was yet morning, to pray.”

The older I get the less I enjoy the ringing of my alarm clock. However, Jesus knew that the strength received from His heavenly Father would outlast any benefits of extra time snoozing. Isaiah 40 says “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength” not “they that sleep as much as possible . . . ”

NO PROCRASTINATION: The Gospel of Mark uses the word “immediately” over and over as it describes Christ in action. He was not a procrastinator. He never made excuses, stalled, or hesitated in uncertainty. He did not put off until tomorrow what could and should be done right now.

Time management specialists confirm this principle. Number your priorities and then do them, one after the other, preferable the most difficult first, eliminating not only the chore but the stress of even thinking about it.

TRUST THE FATHER WITH INTERRUPTIONS: Jesus also saw interruptions as heaven-sent and was not flustered by them. Instead, He responded as if they were on His list from the beginning.

This is where I often falter. My tendency is to let the interruption ruin my attitude and even my day’s work. Realizing God sovereignly controls my life has helped me be more polite to door-to-door salesmen and telephone survey-takers.

PURPOSEFUL R AND R: Jesus was not lazy but He did take time to rest. “Jesus, being wearied from His journey, sat by the well” (John 4).

Laziness is resting because I don’t want to work. Recreation is resting because if I don’t rest I won’t have the energy to work. Taking time to be refueled is not necessarily selfish indulgence. Jesus even used His resting time to reach out to others.

JOB SELECTION: Jesus did not accept any task outside of His Father’s will. His early morning time alone was not wasted time. When He began His day, He knew where to go, what to do, and what was important for eternity. He kept His focus on the priorities laid down for Him.

What a waste to spend a day (or a whole life) on things that have no eternal value. But for those who belong to Him, Christ makes every minute count. After all, unlike the vast assortment of choices there are to fill it, a minute of time leaves no leftovers. Used wisely or wasted, when it is over, it is gone forever.

© Elsie Montgomery

I wrote this about fifteen years ago while in college—as a grandmother—and where I really needed to practice what I preached!