Focused Reflections

Win this book!

With an emphasis on those special occasions when an apt word needs to be spoken, Focused Reflections provides inspirational thoughts that can be read over and over. Many have requested this addition to Marcia Laycock’s first    devotional book, The Spur of The Moment.

 Pay via Paypal (scroll down to see prices)

Available Now in FREE E-Book Format! 

to order e-mail  Marcia@ vinemarc.com (delete space when emailing)

  EXCERPTS:

The Promise of Christmas

Chaos reigned supreme. That’s how it seemed as we began rehearsing our Christmas play. The first rehearsal didn’t really happen. The second one was only a bit better, and three quarters of the cast didn’t make it to the third. Those of us who were supposedly “in control” wondered if we were going to have a play at all.

But it was nothing new. Every year it seems to happen. Kids run helter-skelter, some don’t show up, some can’t find costumes or those made for them don’t fit. The choir director is tearing her hair out and the stage director is even more on edge. This year seemed a bit more chaotic than usual, but somehow I knew it would all came together in the end.

The night of the performance seemed to go well. I say seemed, because I was too busy trying to keep my “cast” quiet and focused, to notice if the play was working. One of the magi discovered he could use one of the shepherd’s headbands as a slingshot to wing the beads off his crown clear across the front of the church. That delighted the kids in the front row who dashed out to pick them up. Mary couldn’t stop squirming because her costume was made of wool, and Joseph kept changing his mind about which robe fit best – right up until he walked out onto the ‘stage.’ I wasn’t sure it really had all come together until the audience stood to applaud at the end. When many congratulated us on a job well done, all I could say was, “It’s a miracle!”

And that’s the promise of Christmas – it all comes together in the end. I’m sure the followers of Jesus, watching the drama of His life and death, felt the same way we ‘directors’ did. To those who thought they were in control, it looked like chaos reigned. From the moment of His birth, He and His parents had to run from those who wanted to kill Him. As He performed miracles, religious leaders plotted against Him. Even the disciples themselves didn’t understand His message. They were disappointed that He didn’t chase the Romans out of the country; He never did set up an earthly kingdom. Then, the cross. It looked like everything they tried to accomplish was doomed to fail. But in the end ...

In the end, the stone was rolled away. The baby born in a stable and crucified on a cross was raised glorified, to the glory of His Father. And there is another promise yet to unfold. As the birth of Christ is overshadowed by the cross, which was blasted away by his resurrection, even that will be outdone by His return. One day, God has told us, “Before me every knee will bow; by me every tongue will swear. They will say of me, ‘In the Lord alone are righteousness and strength’.” (Isaiah 45:23, 24)

It will be a miracle and it really will all come together in the end.

Christmas is For Kids

             My mother always said, “Christmas is for kids.” She’d make that statement several times every Christmas season. When we “kids” got older it seemed to be kind of a hint that we were too big for all the fanfare and fuss. But I always thought to myself, oh good; I get to act like a kid again!

I suppose, in a way, my mother was right. It’s the kids who generate the excitement, the kids who take delight in all the presents and decorations. And sometimes it’s the kids who teach us what Christmas should be all about. Now that I’m an adult, watching little ones in the shops and malls is a delight because they are so enthralled with everything they see. They seem to see all the tinsel and glitter as though it were silver and gold. They seem to have the ability to just believe in all the wonder and mystical possibilities of Christmas.

We recently watched the Christmas movie, Elf. The story is about a man who was raised by Santa’s elves and goes in search of his real father when he finally learns he’s human. (A little suspension of disbelief is obviously needed by adult viewers). The story is about a man with a child’s heart. Everything delights him. Of course he slams up against the cynicism of the real world, time and again, but he manages to keep his child-like innocence and eventually manages to affect change in the hearts of the cynical adults around him. 

Having a child’s heart isn’t only a prerequisite for enjoying Christmas; it’s also a prerequisite for belonging to the kingdom of God . Jesus said so Himself in the book of Luke, chapter 18, verse 16 – “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. I tell you the truth, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

What is it that children have that we must have in order to gain this kingdom? Their innocence, certainly; their willingness to accept that there is someone bigger than them who knows better; their immediate outpouring of love in response to love bestowed on them; their unabashed willingness to tell others what they believe, even if those others scoff.

And most of all, their wholehearted, unreserved faith. Children believe with their whole heart, their whole mind, their whole strength. It’s not something they have to force or work at, they just let it happen. They receive the love and forgiveness intended for them and then act accordingly. Oh, to be a child again! To open our hearts to God’s love and then let it pour out, that’s the message of Christmas we all need to receive.                       

Yes, Christmas is for kids. And we all get to be kids again. Maybe, if we start today, it will last all year long!

The Day God Laughed.

            “See what you have to look forward to now?” the whisper in my ear came from a friend in the pew behind us and it made my smile widen. It was December 10^th and we were on our first outing with our new baby. She was only ten days old, but we braved the frigid Yukon winter to attend the Christmas pageant at a small mission church.

I knew the service wouldn’t be a grand production. The church was just a hall, tiny and dilapidated. The Carols were sung a cappella, without a pianist to help keep us in tune. The pageant consisted of six or seven children dressed in bathrobes, their heads in kitchen-towel wraps. The backdrop was made of cardboard stars covered in tinfoil.

But I was seeing everything attached to Christmas in a new way. The tinfoil stars glittered more brightly than a chandelier. The carols were as harmonious as though sung by angels. And the children... ah, the children made the story live! I was bursting with thankfulness because I had just been given the desire of my heart, the precious gift of a child of my own.

We had been told it wouldn’t happen, and after five years without conceiving a child, my husband and I tried to resign ourselves to that reality. I took great pains to hide the deep sadness I found almost unbearable. No one knew how much I wanted a baby, but the clues were there. I was angry much of the time. Convinced God was punishing me, I hated Him. The bitterness poured into all aspects of my life.

Until the day God laughed.

It was on the road to Mayo, Yukon . I was going to visit a friend, determined not to think about God or religion or any of the baffling questions my husband kept bringing up. But no matter what I tried, my mind would not rest. The question of God’s existence and what he had to do with me would not go away. In desperation, I pulled my vehicle into a lookout point about the Stewart River .

The beautiful river valley stretched out below, but I barely saw it. In turmoil, I challenged God to do something to prove He was there. Then I realized how foolish I was, talking to a God I did not really believe existed. At that point something happened which I have never been able to describe adequately. I “heard” laughter, like a grandfather chuckling, and the words, “Yes, but I love you anyway.”

None of this was audible, yet it was real. I thought I was going insane. The turmoil had finally pushed me over the edge and now I was hearing voices. I stomped on the gas pedal of my truck, turned the radio up as loud as it would go, and fled.

My visit with my friend turned out to be more discussion of spiritual things, but by the time I returned home I was determined not to pursue Christianity. Besides, I had something else on my mind. I had been suffering from a strange flu. On about the seventh day of this “flu”, the realization I was in fact pregnant flooded over me like warm rain. With it came a thunderbolt of truth.

This was the “something” I had challenged God to do. The child growing in my womb was His answer, the proof of His love. He gave me the desire of my heart. She was born November 30, 1982 .

“See what you have to look forward to now?” Oh yes, I saw. I saw a future filled with the knowledge there is peace without measure, grace without limit and love without conditions. I saw a future suddenly bright because I believe the Christmas story. A tiny baby, whose sole purpose was to die for me and all others, was born in Bethlehem . I saw the reality that the Christ is still intimately involved in our lives here on earth. Though the church may be just a hall, the music less than perfect, and the costumes homemade, the story is exquisite. The story is true!

The Monuments of Remembrance

            I picked up an old magazine in a doctor’s office yesterday. It was an anniversary issue, dated Sept 11, 2002 . The magazine, a Canadian publication, was dedicated to the remembrance of the attack on the World Trade Center in New York . What I found interesting was the slant the publication gave to almost every article. Each one detailed how remembering the tragedy strengthened those who had been there and the millions who had watched the attack on television. One article outlined how a family of seven was remembering their dead father by planting a tree. Another covered the details of the ceremonies at ‘ground zero,’ and how the planning of the monument was helping the survivors take another step toward healing. A third article talked about the monuments of remembrance the United States has used to commemorate other tragedies, like Pearl Harbour and the attack in Oklahoma . Throughout each article the message was the same – remembering makes us stronger; remembering helps us heal.

We have known that for a long time. Every nation, every generation has erected its monuments, its symbols of remembrance of both victories and defeats. After the two world wars, Europe was dotted with them, and most have been maintained to this day. We can find them here too, in our own back yard - monuments to the dead, monuments set in stone so the generations to come will not forget. They stand as warnings and as tokens of honour and thanksgiving. We stand before them in solemn silence, and well we should.

Remembrance. Jesus used that word on the eve of what looked like a tragedy, as he served his disciples a simple meal of bread and wine. He used them as symbols, metaphors for his own body and blood which he knew would soon be broken and spilled out. Jesus told us to remember and we have. Our monument is an instrument of torture and death – the cross of Calvary . We use it as a symbol. We hang it on the walls of our churches and on chains around our necks. It is a universal symbol calling us to the remembrance of One who died for a purpose.

But there is another element to the cross. We need not stand in front of it in silence with sober faces. We ought to rejoice before it, because it not only symbolizes death, it signifies life. It not only portrays justice, it blazes mercy. It not only demonstrates wrath, it bleeds with compassion. The cross of Christ is a monument to the greatest victory in history. Jesus said – “Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:14 -16).

Remembrance heals. Remembrance strengthens. Remember Him.

Order your copy of Focused Reflections today! – A great gift idea  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

just click the link

All text Copyright, Marcia Lee Laycock 2001 through 2007

This page updated August 16, 2007