The Prized Treasures

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  “Will the prized treasures of today always be the cheap trifles of the day before? Will rows of our willow-pattern dinner-plates be ranged above the chimneypieces of the great in the years 2000 and odd? Will the white cups with the gold rim and the beautiful gold flower inside (species unknown), that our Sarah Janes now break in sheer light-heartedness of spirit, be carefully mended, and stood upon a bracket, and dusted only by the lady of the house? . . . .   The “sampler” that the eldest daughter did at school will be spoken of as “tapestry of the Victorian era,” and be almost priceless. The blue-and-white mugs of the present-day roadside inn will be hunted up, all cracked and chipped, and sold for their weight in gold, and rich people will use them for claret cups; and travellers from Japan will buy up all the “Presents from Ramsgate,” and “Souvenirs of Margate,” that may have escaped destruction, and take them back to Jedo as ancient English curios.” Jerome K. Jerome, “T...

Lend Me Your Ears

Sometimes I wonder if our house ever sleeps. Someone seems to be always watching TV or is on the computer and listening to music through headphones. Still someone else may be in her or her room playing their stereo or guitar. When the phone rings, all volumes drop (or should, theoretically) so the caller can be heard and understood. The TV gets muted, conversation quiets—or the phone is taken into a quieter room.

God sometimes speaks in such a still small voice that we may find it hard to hear Him when He speaks. It may require that the distractions be removed—those areas of sin which deafen our ears to the voice of the Lord.

The world loves noise because it does not want to stop and think, much less hear the voice of the Lord. The world loves to kill time, is always seeking ways to pass the time. An undocumented source observed:

“Picture, if you will, some solar ray suddenly causing all radio, cassette players, stereo sets and televisions to stop working. Trembling hands impatiently twirl dials, adjust knobs, flip switches. Eyes are dilated with fear. Breathing comes in spasms. Marx was wrong. Religion isn’t the opiate of modern man, incessant sound is. We’ll listen to anything to avoid silence--long pointless talk shows, boring conversations, round-the-clock news, and even rock and country music. We like sound because it blocks out the despairing cry of our own souls, as well as the still, small voice of God. But we need occasionally to take God’s hand and journey into the fearful land of silence. It can be both painful and healing--with the presence of the One who is able to still the despairing cry, and give us a new song of thanks.”

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