listening

A Word in Your Ear

~ Paul Phillips ~ 2 Comments

They really are some of my favorite times.  One might even call them sacred interludes.  But, right now I’m too busy.

I’m too busy. 

I know I’m not the only one who says the words.  But somehow, they must have seemed like a challenge to someone—somewhere.

And, into the flying wheels of my frantic activity with no time for interruptions, the Creator shoves a stick between the spokes, bringing the entire juggernaut to a jarring stop.

The stick, He calls family.

It is, arguably, the most important institution there is.  At least in the order of appearance in the Biblical history of mankind, it is the very first relationship between humans the Creator saw fit to address.  The very first.

I’ve written before that the words attributed to God, it is not good for man to be alone, were not only about Adam, but also about every person who would be born thereafter.  Family was His solution.  (Genesis 2:18)

It still is.

But, when I have deadlines and goals in mind, I can’t be bothered.

I need to finish this! 

Stress builds and disappointment looms.  Interruptions are—well—interruptions.

“We’re having a family dinner.  Yes.  It’s already been scheduled.  They’re all going to be there.”

The dreaded stick slipped into the wheel spokes.

After I picked myself up (sudden stops aren’t all that comfortable), we headed to the dinner.  I did, however, pack my attitude along just in case, not having lost that in the commotion.

The attitude went with me, but it didn’t come home.  Somewhere along the way, I lost track of it.

I think it happened at about the time we asked the blessing on the massive piles of food that awaited.  Standing around in a circle, we joined, first our hearts and then our blended voices, in praise to a Creator who knew we needed to have food to live and family to thrive.

The food is gone.  The family is not.

May I share what I learned—in that blessed space called family—after I lost the attitude I had clung to as I was shoved through the back door?

It had little to do with the children screaming and having fights with pool noodles as they cavorted in the water, and even less to do with their entry into the house dripping said water on the floor.  The shooing out by aunts, uncles, and grandparents was of little consequence in the lesson—not of no consequence, mind you, just not the most important component.

It had even less to do with the reminder that any description of meat which is preceded by the word habanero should be given a wide berth by aging grandfathers with digestion issues.  Still, that most assuredly is one lesson from the evening I will remember for a long time to come!

No, the real truth driven home by the interactions of the evening has occupied my mind for most of the hours since then.

The Lovely Lady and her siblings sat at a table, along with a few additional onlookers, as they went through family treasures.  Jewelry, knick-knacks, and photographs were the subjects of their attention.

At times, the level of conversation was as quiet as a single voice reading an entry in a journal from seventy years ago.  But, as the cache began to spread around the table, the volume level increased markedly.  Individuals spoke with the person sitting next to them, and others called excitedly across the old table, itself a lovely relic from the family’s past, to exclaim about some memory from long ago.

Near one end of the old table sat two delightful onlookers, both of them past the four-score mark in years themselves.  The ladies smiled and nodded at the parts of the conversation which were aimed at them, but as the volume level increased, I could see they were understanding less and less of what was being said.

It’s not an uncommon problem for older folk, but I’m beginning to realize it’s not all that unusual for younger ones, either.  Perhaps, not in the same sense, but the problem remains, all the same.

When all about us is incessant commotion, we have difficulty deciding what is essential and what is just tongues wagging.

When all about us is incessant commotion, we have difficulty deciding what is essential. Share on X

I’m living in a noisy place right now, the yammering of the necessary overwhelming the still voice of the fundamental.

Perhaps, I’m not the only one who is swept away in the current of must-finish, while the peaceful eddy of life-abundant goes unnoticed in our passing.

I watched, on that night of discovery, as one of the older duo leaned near to the other and suggested that, since she was having difficulty hearing in the din, the other lady should speak directly into her good ear.

This.

This is why I needed to be here on this night.  Well, besides the pulled pork and home-made ice cream.

Not over the din and the pandemonium of the world does our Creator speak to us, but in our ear, as old friends who share secrets together.

He won’t stand amid the commotion of the marketplace and shout at us, but He beckons us to come near.  Then quietly, and with perfect diction, He shares His heart into ours.

Quietly, and with perfect diction, He shares His heart into ours. Share on X

In my frenetic activity and the noise of life, I forget to turn my ear to hear His voice.

I forget.

Do you hear Him now?

Maybe, it’s time to lean in and let Him speak in your ear.

He waits for us to turn a listening ear to Him.

Still.  Today.

He waits.

I’m turning His way again.

 

 

 

Quietly, He comes,
Not on wings of storm, nor yet on backs of thundering steeds.
Quietly, He comes
By invitation, whispering truth—a breeze ‘cross the reeds.
(Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. Copyright © 2017. All Rights Reserved.)

 

My son, give attention to my words;
Incline your ear to my sayings.
(Proverbs 4:20 ~ NASB ~ Copyright © 1960, 1962, 1963, 1968, 1971, 1972, 1973, 1975, 1977, 1995 by The Lockman Foundation)

 

The Lord came and stood there, calling as at the other times, “Samuel! Samuel!”
Then Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.”
(1 Samuel 3:10 ~ NIV ~ Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.®  All rights reserved worldwide.

 

 

 

 

Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. Copyright © 2017. All Rights Reserved.

Just Standing Here

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

Do you know where I can find a bar in this town?

The young man was wandering around my music store, having pulled down a guitar or two from the rack to whack at the strings a few seconds on each one. 

He was agitated—angry, even.

We had talked about him being new in town and had even discussed his new profession in the construction business.  He was almost smiling as he described his boss and how his new job was working out. 

Then a shadow descended over his face as he told of being fired from the previous job which first drew him here, only a few weeks ago.

He showed me his arm and the evidence of a badly healed broken wrist bone, all the while ranting about the inequity of losing a job because of a previous injury.  The job required repetitive motion and strength in his forearms and the company was not willing to risk the liability, so they let him go. 

Anger spilling from his core, he asked me about the bar. 

I told him where one could be found and waited for him to respond.  I was pretty sure the bar wouldn’t help his state of mind, but it didn’t seem that my saying so would either.  I simply waited.

Acknowledging the directions I had given him, he seemed to be searching for his next words.  I expected to hear more vitriol aimed at the company that had left him high and dry, looking for a new job.

“I just ended my marriage.  That’s why I’m headed to the bar.”

My mind raced, trying to change gears and catch up with the new direction this conversation was taking.  As it raced, a completely new thought came to me.

I’m no bartender!  Why does he think I want to hear to his sob story?woody

The internal conversation took me a minute, but I realized he was explaining this new twist in his biography, so I tried to concentrate on his words.

“Yeah.  Just a few minutes ago.  I walked out and told her to be gone when I get home.”

Four months, they made it before calling it quits.  It’s not my story, so I’m not going to divulge any more of the details, but as he talked, my mind was asking questions. 

Not of him.  Of myself.

Okay.  So you’re no bartender.  But, you could say something about God.  How about quoting some scripture? 

Don’t you have any wisdom to share?  Anything?

Sometimes, words won’t come.  I just stood there, listening.

It’s a good thing.

When I try to fix things for others, I usually just make a mess.  Most of the time, folks in his position simply need a listening ear.  Somehow, in the quietness, God can speak into hearts what we can never communicate on our own.

The young man, calm now, looked at me and smiled.

“Thanks for listening.  I’m going to go see if I can make some new friends, but I’ll be back.” 

He reached out his hand and gripped mine.   “My name’s Josh.  Maybe you could pray for me or something.”

With that, he was gone. 

I stood looking at the door.  How did he know I would pray for him?  Is that what bartenders do?

No, I guess not.

It is what I do. 

It is what I will do for him.

Some days are like that.  People don’t need your wisdom, don’t need your great store of knowledge, don’t even need your amazing skills, to make things better.

They just need you.  To stand there.

Listening.

And praying.

 

 

Listening is such a simple act. It requires us to be present, and that takes practice, but we don’t have to do anything else.  We don’t have to advise, or coach, or sound wise.  We just have to be willing to sit there and listen.
(Margaret Wheatley ~ American writer/consultant)

 

 
So confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, so that you may be healed.  The prayer of a righteous person has great effectiveness.
(James 5:16 ~ NET Bible)

 

 

 

 

© Paul Phillips.  He’s Taken Leave. 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Own the Music

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

He taught me more about playing the French horn than any other teacher I had.  That said, I can remember clearly only two things he taught me.

Funny isn’t it?  All that instruction and all I recall can be summarized in two sentences.  What can I say?  These gems of wisdom came from Mr. Marlar when I was in my early twenties.

It was a time in my life when I already knew everything.

I wish I had been a little more ignorant.  That wouldn’t come until later.

Mr. M’s wise words:

“You will make mistakes; play them loudly so everyone can hear them.”

“If you can hear the pitch in your head, you can play it on your horn.”

The first statement made me laugh—then. It’s not as amusing now as it once was.  Perhaps we’ll talk more about it another time.

But the second thing Mr. M taught me—that bit of brilliance has been more useful than even he could have thought.  Again and again in my work and personal life, I have proved the truth of the idea.

I was still his student when I played horn for the local university production of the musical, Brigadoon.

I’ve related the story before of my disastrous introduction to the tenor lead’s solo—the too-high pitch I played leading the vocalist astray and causing him to start his solo in the wrong key.

He started on the wrong note!  Because of me!

What a catastrophe!  A few measures into his solo, he had to stop and restart on the correct note.

If looks could kill, the Lovely Lady would have been a widow that very night.

My solution to that disaster was to show up the next evening with a pitch generator connected to an earphone so that I could indeed hear the pitch in my head and then play it on my horn.

It was, I believed, an ingenious solution, and worked splendidly.

For every subsequent night of our performances, my entrance on the opening phrase was impeccable and the tenor followed suit.

I heard the pitch.  I played it.

I was proud of myself.

I am less proud than I once was.

You see, in the years since, I have matured a little (only a little).  I have also become a better musician, understanding some of the foundational principles which escaped my youthful brain back then.

The electronic pitch in the ear missed the point of Mr. M’s statement completely.

If one is to be a successful musician, the sense of pitch, the center of the tone, must be in one’s head, not in their ear.  When I listened to the tone and then played it, the pitch wasn’t mine; I just borrowed it.

I have to own the music!  It has to come from inside of me.  It has to be a part of me.

The principle works in all of life.

Don’t believe that?  Watch what happens when kids leave home to go to college or into the work place.

For too many, the principles and beliefs they learned at their parents’ feet are shed left and right as they realize that such things have always come from somewhere outside of themselves.

They have heard the whispering (and perhaps shouting) of morals and creeds in their ears and believe them only as long as it takes to get out of range of their parents’ voices.

Instantly, there is silence where those things are concerned.  If they hear the echo at all, it is easy to ignore as the clamor around them grows in support of different ideologies and moralities.

Suddenly, they have to make decisions themselves, have to determine the appropriateness of choices in what amounts to a vacuum.

Unless we ourselves own our values and our faith, unless they speak from deep inside of us, we will never hit the mark when it comes time for the performance which will occur in the public eye.

If, deep down, all we hear in the moment of our engagement is silence, any mark will do, and we’ll hit exactly what we aim for.

Nothing. Or anything.

Either way, the result will be the same.  We will miss the mark.

The wrong note will sound and those who take their cue from us will also miss their mark.

Suddenly, I realize that anything else I write here will just be a sound coming into your ear through a head phone.

The manufactured pitch may aid temporarily, but it will have no permanent effect.  I also realize that most who are reading this already have the pitch solidly in mind and are hitting the mark on a daily basis.

It’s high time that I turn off the tone generator and get down off this soapbox.

Come to think of it, it’s time to go home and practice the horn for awhile before heading for bed.  I think I hear a high G coming on.

I only hope the neighbors won’t mind.

 

 

 

Pursue one great decisive aim with force and determination.
(Carl Von Clausewitz ~ German military leader/theorist ~ 1780-1831)

 

For if the bugle produces an indistinct sound, who will prepare himself for battle?
(1 Corinthians 14:8 ~ NASB)

 

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2016. All Rights Reserved.