Spoken Word Messages - Page 47

Many adults remember a familiar summons from childhood days—a wake-up call that urged us to “rise and shine!”  Arising itself was often enough of a challenge for a sleepy boy or girl, but the possibility of “shining” seemed so unlikely as to be a bit of parental irony.  When we understand the origin of the admonition to “arise and shine,” we realize that it is neither ironic nor impossible.

A father recently dropped his young daughter off at school and watched as she hurried up the steps.  Then, just before opening the door, she turned back and waved.  It was one last way to connect—one last assurance that everything was all right.

Perhaps we’ll never fully understand why good music is such a source of comfort and peace.  Most of us have experienced music working its magic in our lives.  We’ve felt good music easing our worries and disappointments, lifting clouds of discouragement, and soothing our fears.

Memories made in early childhood stay with us.  They are fixed points of reference throughout our lives: how a beautiful flower smells, the softness of a kitten, the sound of a well-loved voice reading a story.  This first, fresh view can color all our later experiences.  A wise man wrote, “The web woven around [us] in childhood’s days lasts, and seldom wears threadbare; . . . in many instances it grows brighter and brighter and stronger and stronger.”1 Our first-time wonder at the world can serve as a compass, and those memories can give us valuable direction for where we’re going in life.

Communicating with those we love can be one of our most difficult challenges.  The words we use can make or break a relationship.  A father, who was deeply troubled over the lifestyle his adult son had chosen, took advantage of every opportunity to preach him poignant little sermons punctuated with his condemnation.  The son loved his father but avoided spending time alone with him because he didn’t want to hear the preaching and the railing against him.

One of the many ways that God shows His love for us is the guidance and inspiration He sends into our lives.  As children of our Heavenly Father, we can rest assured that He will lovingly lead us if we are willing to listen and to learn.

As we stumble our way through a world full of shadows and confusion, we find ourselves wishing for firmer footing and clearer vision.  So many of life’s challenges can seem as difficult to us as long division to a small child.  Like a child, we wish we could sneak a glance in the teacher’s desk, where all the answers are written.  In the classroom of life, answers don’t always come easily.  Faced with dilemmas and challenges and trials, we cry out in exasperation, “What am I to do?”  This is especially true for the most difficult family challenges—what mother hasn’t wished her children came with owners’ manuals.

The prophet Isaiah gives us much hope with his description of a future when “the wolf

Of all the wonders of the natural world, perhaps none intrigues us more than the stars.  As children, we hear the nursery rhyme “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” known in many languages.  A few years later we learn to make a wish on the first star seen of an evening.  Around the world, on clear evenings, people look up at the stars and contemplate their beauty, possibilities, and great distance.  Poems and music celebrate the splendor and mystery of these lights in our firmament.  For centuries travelers have navigated over land and sea using the stars as reckoning points.

All great achievements have one thing in common:  They were doubted—sometimes even scoffed at—by others with less vision.  Every great leader, inventor, and pioneer has chosen to ignore the skeptics who said it couldn’t be done.  In many cases, these remarkable heroes endured years of persecution and loneliness in order to make life better for the very people who scorned them.  Something inside kept telling them not to give up, but to stay the course and believe in their ideas.

A man flying home from a business trip was surprised when the woman in the seat next to him asked how he could possibly know there is a God.  The man explained that he had often felt God’s presence in his life, guiding and directing him as well as comforting him in times of need.  Unsatisfied with that answer, the woman wanted to know what God’s presence felt like and how he could possibly know that what he felt was indeed God.  The man struggled to find the right words but finally told the woman he couldn’t explain the feelings he had—he just knew.

The blessing of freedom is easily taken for granted—until it is lost.

A businessman, exhausted from a lengthy trip that yielded far less than he had anticipated for all his hard work, sat gazing out of his office window one late afternoon.  He felt overcome with discouragement.  Even the sky was overcast.  He sat, as it were, marinating in his misery when he noticed a break in the clouds that widened into a tiny patch of blue.  He was held spellbound as he witnessed visible rays breaking forth from that tiny patch—a shaft of light that illuminated a clouded sky and his own sad heart.  As he drank in the view, he felt a warm, reassuring comfort fill his soul.  It was as though a loving Father in the distant heavens was saying:  “I am with you.  All will be well.”

Who can measure the extent of a father’s love or place a value on the power of his example?  The same loving father who quiets a five-year-old’s nighttime fears can speak across generations in the memories of his adult children, who are now raising five-year-olds of their own.  In so many ways, for better or worse, we follow in our father’s footsteps.

In times of distress or anxiety, most of us find comfort in prayer.  Just as a child runs to his parents’ bedroom when a dark night turns frightening, we grown-ups turn to our Heavenly Father when we’re troubled or in pain.  We know the comfort sincere communion with our God can bring.  And most of us also find time to pray with others, whether blessing our families at bedtime or saying grace over a meal.  We pray for comfort, we pray in gratitude, and we know that God hears our prayers—and we find joy in uttering them.

Sometimes the words we use to describe the good and beautiful things of life make them seem too difficult to achieve.  But when we examine the words more closely, something like holiness is not so far out of reach.  The dictionary says holy means “belonging to, derived from, or associated with a divine power.”  In other words, we don’t have to be perfect in order to be holy.  We need only to associate ourselves with the divine.

A teacher felt compassion for a young boy in her class whose father had been out of work for some months.  The family had moved several times and was currently living in a government shelter.  Sympathetically, the teacher said, “It must be difficult to have no home.”  But the boy quickly and emphatically explained that his family did have a home—at the moment they simply did not have a place to put their home.

A father of five children, who lost his job a year ago, had to survive on part-time work while looking for a steady job.  He was sure the financial strain would intensify conflicts at home.  But to his surprise, the layoff became a blessing.  Every one of his children expressed joy in the extra time they had with him; they enjoyed his smiles and big hugs at the end of their school days, his time to help them with projects, and the riddles he tucked into their lunches.  They also began pitching in to help run the house—and to help one another.  And when employment was eventually found, he continued to act upon the important lessons he had learned.

The birth of a child brings joyful noise into a home.  And then, a score of years later, the silence after his departure is filled with memories: thoughts, images, and whispers of years gone by.  The child, who just yesterday slept in a bassinet, now enters college; the son, who a few days ago scuffed knees climbing trees, now accepts a job across the country; the daughter, who only last week cried in her father’s lap, now has children of her own to console.  We lovingly bring children in and, what seems like a few years later, watch them leave.  In one great round, parents embrace their children and then love them enough to let them go.

A newborn baby laid in its mother’s arms is a bundle of potentialities.  For one so small, knowing little and recognizing even less, it will take an artist’s eye, an eye born of hope and love, to trace the child’s possibilities.

In the days when people depended upon sheep for food and clothing, village shepherds often gathered their flocks into a single sheepfold at night.  Once the sheep were gathered in, one of the shepherds could stand watch at the gate and protect the sheep from predators.  In the morning the other shepherds returned, and each called to his flock.  The sheep, recognizing the voice of their own shepherd, would follow their master.  In this way, the sheep were separated and taken to pastures for the day’s grazing.

In our daily opportunities to give help to others, do we measure our efforts in terms of their immediate results or by whether we did all that we could to serve those around us? Our efforts need not be expensive or well publicized. We can bless the lives of others through seemingly small, well-intentioned acts of generosity and love.

Perhaps the most enduring and important theme in all the world’s great literature is the search for home. From the great epic poems of antiquity to the most important plays and novels of our century, writers have depicted heroes lost and far from their loved ones, lonely and desperate for the refuge and comfort of home. Odysseus, the ancient Greek hero, was celebrated for his courage and good sense, but when we read of his journeys, we are most touched by his longing for his beloved wife, Penelope, and his agony over their long separation.

It was Thomas Carlyle who penned the words: “Music is well said to be the speech of angels.”1 One important duty of angels is to watch over us. Interestingly, music at times has assumed that divine duty. When part of our lives, music can help us in time of need. Parents who teach their children songs that lift their souls and fill them with joy and comfort may not realize the literal saving power of such a song.

Every spring we celebrate a newness of life. We rejoice over blossoms that have kept their promise; we cheer for saplings that have survived winter’s frost; and we marvel at the animal kingdom newly replenished.

As a service project, a college student undertook to raise a puppy for a guide dog organization.  Her job was to feed, exercise, socialize, and give basic obedience training to the puppy for a year.  After that, the dog would receive additional training by the organization and then be given to a person with special needs.  Though she had previously raised many puppies, the young woman found that she was much more careful and particular with this dog, because he was not really hers.  She was a caretaker, a steward, and keenly felt her responsibility for the puppy temporarily entrusted to her.

Wouldn’t it be marvelous if we could see into another person’s heart and know exactly how he feels?  Instead of grappling with words and language to try to understand each other, we could simply read each other’s thoughts.  Such dreams are the stuff of science fiction.  No matter how well we think we know someone, we can really only guess at what another person feels.

A traveler, walking along a forest path, comes across an intricately woven tapestry lying on the ground.  After much effort, the traveler determines how the pattern was woven.  Is it possible for that traveler to focus entirely on the tapestry without ever once wondering about the one who created it?

Choosing the right road at the beginning of a journey will more likely ensure reaching the right destination.  A man boarded a bus with the clear intention of going to a large eastern city.  At the end of a long trip, he found himself not in the East but in another city far south.  He had taken the wrong bus.  He knew where he wanted to go before he started the journey, but alighting at the destination, he found himself somewhere else.  He discovered that choosing the beginning of a road, even if by mistake, is also choosing the place where it leads.

Sometimes, in order to get along with those around us, we find ourselves in situations where we need to compromise.  And yet, there are also times when we need to take a stand, define our position, and refuse to back down.  When it comes to questions of personal integrity—to those beliefs which most define us—we need to be willing to say, forcefully and firmly:  “I will not compromise on this issue.  This is my position.”  And then accept whatever consequences result.