Marcia Lee Laycock

Maybe it’s because the winter has been hanging on, the spring has been long in coming, and the fact that the blizzard on Good Friday prevented my girls from all being home for Easter, that I’ve slumped into a bit of a pity party lately.

To be honest, that party has been dragging on too, like this winter. I recently sent out a newsletter to twenty-some wonderful people who agreed to pray for me and my writing/speaking ministry and I just whined and whined. The discouragements have gotten the better of me lately.

I was in the midst of my ‘poor me’ thought processes the other day, when we skyped with the refugee family we are hoping to sponsor. They looked and sounded like they’ve been through a long winter too. But they’re in Bangkok. Living in a 12 x 14 foot room with three kids who can’t go outside for fear of all kinds of evil. No, there’s no winter in Bangkok. Just tyrants and brutal police and overcrowded detention centres and millions – yes, millions – of refugees who can’t go home because it’s worse there.

I’ve been on the edge of tears for weeks, for my own selfish reasons, but when this lovely, intelligent, gentle soul leaned forward and said quietly, “Please, we beg you, if something happens to us, please, please, take care of our children…” my breath caught in my throat and my silent groans, for once, were not for myself.

So I need to say I’m sorry. To you who have prayed for me, to you who tried to make me smile and you who have wondered why I haven’t, to all those whose suffering is real and unimaginable, and most of all to my God.

Forgive me.

I will try to do better in the days ahead.

 

I’ve never been much of a planner. When writing, I rarely outline the story. I do eventually make a timeline of sorts, once I get into it, but that’s about it. I love the excitement of not knowing where I’m going.

Both in writing and in life, this can have some interesting consequences. Many times I’ve ended up in places I would never have even thought about, let alone planned for. When I was travelling in Portugal many years ago, for instance, I was sitting by a fountain looking at a map when a young man approached and asked what I was looking for. I told him I wanted to go to the Castle of San Jorge. He offered to take me there. Yes, I did hesitate for a moment, but, being a rather naïve university student at the time, I agreed. The young man said he would take me a way that no tourists would normally go. That sounded exciting.

It wasn’t until I found myself in the oldest part of Lisbon, moving through streets so narrow the sun did not reach them, and surrounded by loitering men, dirty, raucous children and old women cooking on open braziers, that I realized perhaps I should have thought more carefully before saying yes. All was well in the end, we ascended a steep stone stairway and emerged into bright sunlight, at the gates of the castle.

It was only in looking back at that time that I realized what a risk I had taken. And I thank the Lord for His protection. I was of the mindset that I could take such risks because I believed God would protect me. Perhaps I should have remembered an old Irish proverb – “Trust God but don’t dance in a small boat!”

In life, as in writing, it is wise to be at least a little bit prudent in planning for the future. Yes, God will lead and direct and we should trust Him, but we should also realize that He gave us a mind with which to think, and plan. This doesn’t mean that we make plans and than ask God to bless them, but rather that we open our minds, our eyes and our ears to see and hear what God might be planning for us. If we are attentive, we will discover that He is leading and guiding in all aspects of our lives, confirming the direction in many ways.

When I get an idea, in life, or in writing, I let it sit for a while, watch for further direction and advice that might come from other believers, or from the reading of God’s word, or some other reliable source. Then I move forward in faith and confidence and see where He will take me.

“Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see” (Hebrews 11:1).

As we move into 2018, why not discover the excitement of not knowing where you’re going?

 

Photo by Kimberley McClafflin

Yes, I’m looking forward to it. I love all that Christmas is, and symbolizes. I love the tree with its tinsel and baubles; I love the presents tucked under it; I love the lights that decorate it, and I love the food – turkey, mashed potatoes and dressing and of course, home made pumpkin pie. I most especially love the fact that my family will gather to enjoy all these things with me.

All of these things are wonderful, yet they can be a distraction from the real message of Christmas and I wondered how I could connect them in my mind with the truths of the season.

The tree, for instance. Not all Christmas trees have needles. One of the most beautiful Christmas trees I’ve ever seen was a spindly birch decorated with tiny white lights. That tree often reminds me that Christmas is not the same for all people – many have different traditions and ways of celebrating the birth of the Saviour, but the Christ came for all, no matter their nationality, language or ethnicity.

As I thought about the lights of Christmas, I remembered that Jesus called himself the Light of the world in John 8:12. Isaiah 60:1 tells us to “Arise, shine, for your light has come.” John calls Jesus the true light that gives light and Ephesians 5:8 tells us we ourselves are “now light in the Lord.”

And the Lord himself is our food, our nourishment. He said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never go hungry…” (John 6:35). “For the bread of God is the bread that comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” (John 6:33).

And what about the presents? We know Jesus was God’s gift to us, a gift that ‘keeps on giving’ because once we have sought his forgiveness and accepted the sacrifice he made for us, He lives in us. If you have not accepted Jesus as your brother, your friend, your saviour, you have left a priceless gift unopened. That gift is offered to us all at no cost. All you have to do is say yes. Christmas gives us all a new opportunity to celebrate the gift of God’s Son, the gift of the forgiveness He has offered to us.

The tree, the lights, the food, the presents. As I began to connect all the trappings of Christmas to the truths of Christmas, I realized that it’s just a matter of seeing what is really right in front of us at any given time, and connecting it to the mercy and love of Christ.

“For to us a child is born, to us a son is given … And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6).

  Love in the Room & Christmas are now available on Amazon or from the author. Email vinemarc@telus.net

 

 

 

The Light Within

The view outside my living room window was pretty – golden trees reflected in shimmering still water, a rippling line left now and then by the resident muskrat or slow-moving duck. The picture, though always changing, has become quite ordinary to me, but as I watched on this particular day, the morning light moved steadily across the pond and began to light the tall poplar trees as they waved golden leaves in the breeze. The light, that seemed to somehow come from within, turned the ordinary scene into a glorious show of colour.

I couldn’t help but think of a dear friend and brother in Christ, who had just passed away in a tragic accident. I remembered the day my husband led him to Christ, at an evening Bible study. They were down on their knees in a small apartment, surrounded by people he didn’t know, yet his desire to know God gave him courage to say, yes, he wanted to ask Jesus to be part of his life, right then and right there. The change in our friend Bruce became immediately obvious. He went from being an “okay guy” who was a little rough around the edges, to being one remarkable by his constant smile and eagerness to help anyone in need. That’s what he was doing on the day he died.

Like those trees outside my window, Bruce went from ordinary to extraordinary because the light of Christ had entered his life, making his witness glow from the inside out. During the days after his death, as the news spread, we constantly heard stories of how Bruce’s smile had brightened the day, or his helping hands had made a significant difference in someone’s life. He became a living example of the scripture that says, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:35).

Bruce was not a rich man. He didn’t leave a lot behind, but he left a sure and wonderful legacy – the desire instilled in us all to be like him. Like Jesus himself, Bruce’s humility and genuine love for others left us pondering how we too might act in the same way. His sudden absence has a left a hole in our lives but we know it will be filled again when, one day, we will see Bruce in all his glory, standing with the other saints beside his Saviour.

Bruce was a gift to us, to our church, to our community. His is a story that I am pleased to tell, as a writer of faith. I am encouraged that there are many more lives that glow from the inside out, lives whose stories are testaments of unwavering faith in Jesus Christ. I am blessed that I have been tasked to tell them, be they the stuff of real life, or the elements of fiction.

As a long-ago writer, Frederick M. Lehman, said in the old song, The Love of God –

“Could we with ink the ocean fill,

And were the skies of parchment made;

Were every stalk on earth a quill,

And every man a scribe by trade,

To write the loved of God above

Would drain the oceans dry;

Nor could the scroll contain the whole,

Though stretched from sky to sky.”

 

An interviewer once asked Mother Theresa why she gave her time and energy, indeed her whole life, in the face of the millions in need. The misery was so pervasive, the interviewer purported, how could she possibly hope to change it? I found it fascinating that, at first, the tiny woman did not understand the question. Her focus was so fixed on the dignity of each human being that even if she could help only one, she believed it was worth giving her whole life. I believe that is the focus of Christ. He says it himself in the story of the lost sheep – the shepherd leaves those who are safe to rescue the one that is lost.

I once thought about what it would be like to be lost while walking through the jungle in Papua New Guinea. It made me shiver, even in that tropical heat, to think about trying to find my own way in that place. The jungle was thick with hidden dangers – vipers, poisonous spiders and centipedes, sago swamps full of thorns the size of stiletto knives and leaches almost as big. I had no idea which plants were edible and which were deadly. I had no idea where to find fresh water. I had no idea which of the many paths would lead to a safe place and which would lead deeper into danger. I did know that in only a few short hours darkness would descend and I didn’t even want to think about all the things that would come out then! But because I had a guide to lead me, that walk through the jungle was like a stroll in a park. Well, almost.

Consider one who is spiritually lost. He’s in a frightening place full of hidden dangers, unknown paths and lack of nourishing food and water. It’s a place of constant stress, with nowhere to turn, no way out. Then the guide shows up – suddenly there is someone to point out the pitfalls, someone to shine a light on the path, someone opening a door into a comfortable room with a feast spread out on the table. Imagine the sense of relief as the lost one follows the direction and accepts the hospitality of the rescuer. Imagine the peace.

As people of faith we too are like guides in a jungle full of dangers. We have the means within our hands, within our stories, within our lives, to lead others to a safe place, a place full of light and living water. Eugene Peterson has said, “We live in narrative, we live in story. Existence has a story shape to it.” And so, it is within story – our story, that love, nobility and truth live, waiting to be revealed and understood.

And even if only one makes it safely through the jungle of life because of something you have said, or shown them, or written, that is enough.