Ferguson: For some reason, my hearing isn’t what it used to be!

I’m no stranger to loud noises. Growing up in the country, we shot guns frequently. Back then, no one ever recommended wearing hearing protection.

And then there was rock music. My theory has always been that it needs to be loud enough to feel it in your bones.

I’ve had a long relationship with loud sounds. My Navy ship had a five-inch fifty-four gun on the aft end. It fired with a loud boom. On the bow of the ship was a two-armed missile launcher. When a missile left the rail, it was thunderous. 

My ship also had two close-in weapon systems—one on each side, port and starboard. These were Gatling-style guns designed to fire rounds rapidly to deflect and destroy incoming missiles. When either of those gun mounts fired, the noise was deafening. It sounded like the sky was tearing apart. You most assuredly didn’t want to be on deck during a test fire. Feel free to ask me how I know, but make sure to raise your voice dramatically. For some reason, my hearing isn’t what it used to be. 

I was reminded of the various loud noises I’ve heard over the years while using a planner in the shop today. It is old and loud, and the sound is incredibly irritating. I feel it in my body; it grates on my nerves, and I am so glad to hit the stop button when the job is done. Unfortunately, planning wood is never truly finished after just one pass. 

At the same time, I’m grateful for my handed-down planner. It allows me to take rough wood and transform it into something more refined, more suitable for creating something beautiful.

Life is often like a planner. We face trials, difficulties, heartaches, and seasons of despair — and sometimes, the noise can be overwhelming, not just figuratively. As we navigate through life, the journey begins to smooth out rough spots and deformities. Each time we go through those hard moments, they tend to shape us, change us, teach us, and remind us of what truly matters. 

I’d rather not face those wood-planning moments at all, but often I don’t have a choice. Still, I get to choose whether to learn from those times and how I can improve. I decide how I grow. I choose to face those challenges with character and integrity. 

At the ripe old age of none-of-your-business and with life traumas seemingly too numerous to count (perspective, perspective), there is still much to learn. As the old cliché goes, “God’s not through with me yet.”

How about you?

“I will lead the blind by a way they did not know; I will guide them on paths they have not known. I will turn darkness to light in front of them and rough places into level ground. This is what I will do for them, and I will not abandon them.” (Isaiah 42:16 CSB)

Les Ferguson, Jr. is a minister and faith-based author. He can be reached at lfergusonjr@gmail.com