The Wings of Healing is an international ministry, with a world wide radio ministry, and also helps maintain Children homes, relief stations, churches, and Bible schools around the globe.

Monthly Archives: December2021

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From Show Biz to Sunday School
By Sharon Leann Wyatt aka Sharon Leigh


Once again Linda gave it her all, but her effort was in vain. The action was still going strong all around the bar room set, and Linda tried once more, but it was to no avail, and the director wasn’t about to let this continue. If it wasn’t so sad, it would have been a very funny bit, but the script did not call for any comic relief, and the director yelled out a furious…”cut!”
I had noticed Linda’s difficulties, and just knew the “cut” was due to her not being able to lift herself up on the bar. I felt for her, but could do nothing in her behalf. The director rose out of his chair, and stalked across the set toward poor Linda. Linda was never one to back down, especially when she knew she was right. So she stood her ground as she pointed out that the bar was armpit high, and that she was no gymnast. She also reminded him that she had suggested that the actor she was with lift her up on the bar at the given time, thus saving the shot. “You didn’t listen to me, and now look at the mess we’re in.” The director backed down, and actually apologize loud enough for everyone to hear. The scene was started over from a place a few beats before Linda’s faux pas, and finished without a hitch, with James Drury, lifting her to the bar top, and the stuntman receiving a blow harder than it normally would have been had Linda not been so angry at the “darling” director! Linda and the stuntman (goose egg and all) became fast friends from then on. He always said he was glad to be on the good side of a lady who could deliver a blow like that with the candy glass bottles.
Oh yes, that gunfight that I was in the middle of, well, I survived, and that stuntman in the saloon girls clothes, well he was the one that was hurled through the window. That five minute fight took all day to shoot, by the time they did all the close-ups of fists, bodies, and bullets flying. And they say Hollywood glamorizes the old west!

In the mid-60s Hollywood was just beginning to stretch its wings. Censorship was loosening the reins of their moral code, especially on the dress code. At one time too much décolleté and the navel were not considered proper, and therefore were not shown. I am speaking of television. There was an entirely different set of rules for the movies, which provided a little more room for their artistic expression. I use that term loosely. Therefore, “Bikini Calls” were becoming more and more prevalent. I’m certain that the term “bikini call” is self-explanatory. Even the moviemakers were finding use for the “bikini call,” and would be sure to find a place in the script, where bikini-clad cuties could romp about playfully.
It was very obvious to me, and many of my confederates, just why these scenes were being included in the story lines. Clearly as we were doing these ridiculous directions given us, the crew was getting their jollies. In many other cases it would be the actors who would insist there be calls for itsy-bitsy-teeny-weeny bikinis just so they could find their jobs just that much more, for the lack of a better word, stimulating! I despised these calls! There was nothing worse than hearing the casting directors say the word bikini, in describing the mode of dress for the day’s work. Not only did these calls come up in the dead of winter, they were usually jobs on the set, and not at all outdoors. And somehow, on a rainy day in February, sitting or cavorting around a pool doesn’t sound at all enticing.
So the bikini became a necessary part of the extras wardrobe. I went out of my way to find something not too small, a discrete one with plenty of ruffles and bows. Some how…..(continued next month)

A Birth That Changed Everything!
December 2021
Merry Christmas my faithful friends:
It’s Christmas; a time in which all of Christianity celebrates this special birth, be it millions of Coptic’s in Muslim Egypt, those gathered under an Acacia Tree in Tanza-nia, or in the glorious cathedral in Chartres, France. They all celebrate in their own way the birth of Jesus. It is now a global celebration, and why should it not, even with all the other images and phony stories. All of which are so shallow and mundane com-pared to the real thing; the beauty and wonder of this child. For this one event has changed everything; how God is worshiped, how we see our world, how societies are structured, how we interact with others in all we do. He changed science, business, politics, even how we engage in warfare, everything. This is often not appreciated, and many are unaware of how His life has affected everything, even some Christians.
However, that is really why this is such a special time, and what I have tried to re-late using real events. How Christmas has brought those separated by war together, healed relationships, will in odd circumstances remind us of what love should be, and Sharon’s favorite, a horse that appears suddenly on a battlefield enabling a soldier to evacuate those seriously wounded. Then the miraculous; a boy trying to surprise his friend with a gift only to hit an electrified fence, and have it “heal” a deaf ear, a bag of Christmas gifts that always has one more gift for children who have nothing. These real events we have shared because it seems the season for it. One might call it, “magic,” but it is God at work!
Yet why at this time? Is this season so “magical” because children or grandchil-dren are so filled with wonder, excitement, or anticipation? Does that affect we as adults so much that we too are filled with a sense of wonder? Is it just that everywhere we see the decorations, anticipation, and warmth and it’s infectious, and we want to share a little love, and joy with others? Whatever it is, wouldn’t it be even more glori-ous to feel this way longer, even all year long?
When you realize the truth of what brings to this season the need to retell such marvelous and wondrous stories, it should never leave us. Our faith is indeed a marvel of peace, joy, and hope. When you have, as I have, been in close contract with a myr-iad of other religions, Christianity is just so different. It is our music, even our worship when it is what it can be, and especially our message. Then our fellowship, even with Christians you meet for the first time, especially those of other lands. They really are our brothers and sisters. That is so unmistakable and special.
So why can’t we prolong this Christmas feeling? Our faith is so special, based as it is, on the life of such an incredible man. One conceived of an angelic message, born to angelic voices, and visits of wise men. He who was born Messiah, Savior, Son of God, and is the incarnation, “Immanuel,” God with us. This all requires words we don’t have, for it reveals the very Creator. He who holds all, this universe in balance, made life possible, and in doing so brought mankind into existence that we might ac-tually enjoy His presence. Our worship but hints of this, and if we magnified it a billion times it is what our dwelling with Him will entail. Our present condition could not with-stand the intensity of His love. As Paul relates, “No eye has seen nor ear heard, nor the heart of man conceived, what God has prepared for those that love Him” (1 Cor. 2:9).
This whole Christmas “feeling” is something we should hold on to, for what we have been given, promised, and what at times we experience in Christmas, Easter, at times in our Sunday worship, should be part of every moment of our lives. We will dwell in His love and wonder one day, why not a little more now? Yes, Christmas is truly wonderful, but our faith is the only truth. Here only is true peace, joy, and love, and what gives life meaning, purpose, and hope so why not live it more and more each day?

May this Christmas last as a source of joy, peace, and love,

Thomas R. Wyatt

From Show Biz to Sunday School
By Sharon Leann Wyatt aka Sharon Leigh


A candy glass window was getting a paint touch up. Stunt girls were putting on their flat shoes. One diminutive stuntman was dressed as a saloon girl; he obviously was going to do some specialty stunt he was known for. The director was overseeing everything very carefully. And there stood Linda and I, who had still not been given any directions.
We began to wonder if we were even needed on this set. But time, and the script would tell differently. The director spotted us and headed over with a broad smile on his face. “And my two beauties, this is what you will be doing when the action starts. First off, you will be flirting with the two principals,” something I found that I was very adept at. Then he added. “Linda, when the fight starts you will hoist yourself up on the bar, grab a bottle and hit the stuntmen on the head with it.” Linda tried to explain the bar seemed too high for her to gracefully execute the move, and offered some suggestions that may have been of value. But the director said, “You can do it Linda.” So Linda walked in on the set and stood at her designated spot at the long high ornate oak bar. The director, then begin to give me my directions. “Now, Sharon, you will be sitting on the bar, when the fight starts, Doug McClure will lift you off and put you on the steps, be
careful of the stuntman who will be falling down the stairs, be sure and duck from any flying objects, and do not be in the line of gunfire, as we do not want to kill you off. So just act as you would if you were in a real situation such as this.”
The entire cast assembled on the set for a “walk-through.” No one did any actual stunts, we just moved from one place to another. No props were touched no one touched anyone else either. Then the director said it was time to do the real thing, and that he would like very much to do it in one take, and that was up to each and every one of us to do our own parts perfectly. This would also keep accidents from happening, and anyone from getting hurt.
The scene was “chalked up,” and sound and speed of film set, then the director said, “action!” The music, on a honky-tonk piano began to play, and all sorts of motion began. Doug McClure began his scene with me. We flirted back and forth, while he sipped a beer, (yes, beer is authentic, but what is supposed to be liquor is tea or coffee, depending on the color they want). On Doug’s cue, he lifted me from the bar and set me on the staircase, tipping his hat, and set about to do his part in the melee. Doug was cute, in a boyish sort of way. He was one of those properties, at Universal Studios, that the powers-that-be had very high hopes for. He had a very casual view of life, and seemed to enjoy playing his guitar and singing country-western music, his favorite being “King Of The Road,” which he sang incessantly. Other than that, he was never offensive, and did his work.
Meanwhile, back on the set! The brawl continued at a furious pace. Bodies flew in all direction, and props were breaking left and right. “Oufs” and groans filled the air, and the camera rolled on. The director smiled with sheer delight as the well thought out scene progressed.
It was Linda’s cue to placed herself up on the bar, the camera was well on her, and a key light lit her beautifully. She placed her hands on the chest high bar that she was standing with her back to, Linda got a good grip, and begin to do as she was directed. The awkward position of her arms, due to the height of the bar, made her look ungraceful as she tried to lift herself up, and her first effort was an abysmal failure. Undaunted, she gave it another go, this effort was even more noticeable than the one before, because the feather in her hair flopped over to one side. Once again Linda gave it her all, (continued next month)

“…Can These Bones Live?”
November, 2021
My Thankful Friend,

It’s Thanksgiving time, wonderful! Our Canadians friends have already celebrated and we will soon. For me this entire time of year is a favorite; crisp air, falling leaves of varied colors, all the fond memories, and always gatherings of family and friends. And to top it off it is centered in how blessed we are. And we are blessed! This is true despite all about us the chaos, divisiveness, hostility, and ineptitude, especially of our leaders. Yet, we need to be thankful! We may as yet lack the spiritual vision to see what lies ahead; still we are aware that God is able to do whatever He needs to do. This is what I’ve tried to relate lately, our God is more than enough! And this has all brought to my mind Ezekiel.
He lived in a time when the best and brightest of Judah, like Ezekiel himself, had been dragged into captivity. It was difficult time for these exiles. They were a defeated people and had lost all hope. “By the waters of Babylon there we sat down and wept…on the willow there we hung our lyres …how shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land” (Ps.137:1-2,4)? Such a sad lament, and it was uttered by the chosen people of God. But Judah had displayed faithlessness and ingratitude. They were not thankful! Fortunately, for them, and I believe us as well, God never leaves his people lost and without hope!
Ezekiel would be taken by the spirit of God to an old battle site, where those slain had been left to the elements. He will asks of Ezekiel, “can these bones live” (Ez.37: 11)? The prophet’s only response could be, “Lord you know!” Only God could know, and He will command Ezekiel to prophesy “life.” Life to what was dried up, lifeless, and beyond hope. This was a message to Israel; that God can revive and restore even what seems only lifeless dry bones. God’s desire is always to bring life, renewal, and strength. It is a message, I believe, He would have us hear. For to God nothing is lost, forgotten, or ever hopeless. Once this new continent was proclaimed the “new promise land,” here was to arise the “New Israel.” This was to be “the shinny city on the hill.”
This Thanksgiving we need to believe that God will bring life to us, even our dry, lifeless, and spiritless society. In the not too distant past, people just like us brought hope, freedom, and faith to this vast untamed continent. By His grace there was born here a culture where Christianity flourished, and would spread to the end of the earth. And where we have carried the cross, poverty has been diminished, human hope reborn, and our Faith has grown. All this I know our Lord would do again, for we are still His “desire.”
Yet, do we know as a whole people that our blessing have come from God, and our Judaic-Christian culture? I don’t believe many do! Do we need to hear the warnings given Judah? “Those who lead this people (have) led them astray … every one is godless and an evildoer, and every mouth speaks folly” (Isa.9:16-17). “Because the land is full of bloody crimes and the city full of violence, I will bring the worst of the nations to take possession of (your) houses; I will put an end to (your) proud might…” (Ez.7:23-24). This was so distressing and so unnecessary. Judah had been given so much, and God desired to give so much more, just as He would us. But do we have ears to hear? “Shall I not avenge myself on a nation such as this” (Jer.9:9). “…I will make you a desolation and object of reproach among the nations” (Ez.5:11,15). Do such words cause one to pause, and wonder how do we escape the same judgment? I know God’s covenant with Israel is not the same as our New Covenant. Still we have been given far more than we deserve, and my concerns for us are not eased! Too many, “prophesy not what is right; speak smooth things, and prophesy illusions” (Isa.30:10 Heb). Too many in authority choose to lie, cheat, seeking only to hold on to power. They give no thought to God!
Still there is the faithful remnant, like 7,000 that didn’t bend their knees to Baal, only it is now millions who have not bowed to the false gods of this age. They would like us “prophesy” truth, and thus life to our lifeless churches, seek the very breath of God, His spirit, to our own societies. Oh that He may again answer by “fire,” and the dry bones live!

Thankfully, we are His, always, but “the fire we need,”

Thomas Randolf Wyatt