A Cause and a Calling

This past weekend I was blessed to witness Faith Christian's amazing performance of the musical, Seussical. I actually got to see it twice! The hero of the story was Horton who saved the Who’s. Going into the play, I had read some of Seuss’ work and had recently seen the animated version of Horton Hears a Who and had thought that Horton was heroic because he had such a big heart. But after seeing the musical twice, I realized that while it was true Horton was big-hearted, there were two other driving factors for his bringing salvation to the Who’s.

Horton was compelled by the cause. He truly believed that “a persons a person no matter how small” and that conviction carried him throughout the story. No matter what opposition he faced (His chief tormentors are Vlad Vladikoff, the Wickersham Brothers and the Sour Kangaroo.) or how bad the circumstances got (imagine desperately rummaging through a seemingly limitless field of pink clovers in search of the one holding the speck. He finally found the speck on the 3 millionth flower) Horton never gave up. It was obvious that his passion that “a persons a person no matter how small” persuaded him.

But I noticed another possible moving motivation in Horton’s redemption venture. Horton believed in what others can’t see. Nobody believe Horton’s story about a voice from a spec of dust. The biggest reason they didn’t believe is because it was new. Sour Kangaroo said,

“Why, that speck is as small as the head of a pin.
A person on that?…why, there never has been!”

Just because something has never been doesn’t mean that it can’t be! Horton withstood harassment and ridicule for following a dream that he couldn’t adequately describe. He was called a fool for listening to a voice that others couldn’t hear. He was falsely accused for seeing what others couldn’t see. And he never lost faith. Or did he? The musical did a good job of portraying the obvious fear and frustration and even desperation that Horton must have felt. But when I got home I went back and actually read the book. There was one line that resonated with my heart,

“And by noon poor old Horton, more dead than alive, Had picked, searched, and piled up, nine thousand and five.”

Did you see it? More dead than alive?

And then I thought of Psalm 42.

All of us have been where Horton was and where the Psalmist was. If you’ve lived a little life, you know what it is like to be “more dead than alive.” Most of us can relate to the musician’s moan, “My tears have been my food day and night, while men say to me all day long, ‘Where is your God?’"

Truth be told, Kim and I can relate now more than ever. Planting a church is a lot like hearing a voice that no one else can hear (“…why, there never has been!”) or looking for a speck in a field filled with millions of clovers. Yet we, like Horton and the Psalmist, must keep going. You too must keep going. Some days it is our good nature or heroic hearts that keep our eyes on the prize. But when life’s evil eagles swoop and steal and faith’s enemies oppress and taunt, it is going to be our commitment to the cause and our conviction in our calling that carry us on.

Keep hearing Who’s and put your hope in Heaven’s Hero!


Psalm 42


1 As the deer pants for streams of water,
so my soul pants for you, O God.

2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.
When can I go and meet with God?

3 My tears have been my food
day and night,
while men say to me all day long,
"Where is your God?"

4 These things I remember
as I pour out my soul:
how I used to go with the multitude,
leading the procession to the house of God,
with shouts of joy and thanksgiving
among the festive throng.

5 Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and 6 my God.
My soul is downcast within me;
therefore I will remember you
from the land of the Jordan,
the heights of Hermon—from Mount Mizar.

7 Deep calls to deep
in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
have swept over me.

8 By day the LORD directs his love,
at night his song is with me—
a prayer to the God of my life.

9 I say to God my Rock,
"Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go about mourning,
oppressed by the enemy?"

10 My bones suffer mortal agony
as my foes taunt me,
saying to me all day long,
"Where is your God?"

11 Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.


Horton Hears a Who

On the fifteenth of May, in the jungle of Nool,
In the heat of the day, in the cool of the pool,
He was splashing…enjoying the jungle’s great joys…
When Horton the elephant heard a small noise.

So Horton stopped splashing. He looked towards the sound.
“That’s funny,” thought Horton. “There’s no one around.”
Then he heard it again! Just a very faint yelp
As if some tiny person were calling for help.
“I’ll help you,” said Horton. “But who are you? Where?”
He looked and he looked. He could see nothing there
But a small speck of dust blowing past though the air.

“I say!” murmured Horton. “I’ve never heard tell
Of a small speck of dust that is able to yell.
So you know what I think?…Why, I think that there must
Be someone on top of that small speck of dust!
Some sort of a creature of very small size,
too small to be seen by an elephant’s eyes…

“…some poor little person who’s shaking with fear
That he’ll blow in the pool! He has no way to steer!
I’ll just have to save him. Because, after all,
A person’s a person, no matter how small.”

So, gently, and using the greatest of care,
The elephant stretched his great trunk through the air,
And he lifted the dust speck and carried it over
And placed it down, safe, on a very soft clover.

“Humpf!” humpfed a voice. Twas a sour Kangaroo.
And the young kangaroo in her pouch said “Humpf!” too
“Why, that speck is as small as the head of a pin.
A person on that?…why, there never has been!”

“Believe me,” said Horton. “I tell you sincerely,
My ears are quite keen and I heard him quite clearly.
I know there’s a person down there. And, what’s more,
Quite likely there’s two. Even three. Even four.
Quite likely…

“…a family, for all that we know!
A family with children just starting to grow.
So, please,” Horton said, “as a favour to me,
Try not to disturb them. Just let them be.”

“I think you’re a fool!” laughed the sour kangaroo
And the young kangaroo in her pouch said, “Me, too!
You’re the biggest blame fool in the jungle of Nool!”
And the kangaroos plunged in the cool of the pool.
“What terrible splashing!” the elephant frowned.
“I can’t let my very small persons get drowned!
I’ve got to protect them. I’m bigger than they.”
So he plucked up the clover and hustled away.

Through the high jungle tree tops, the news quickly spread:
“He talks to a dust speck! He’s out of his head!
Just look at him walk with that speck on the flower!”
And Horton walked, worrying, almost an hour.
“Should I put this speck down?…” Horton though with alarm.
“If I do, these small persons may come to great harm.
I can’t put it down. And I won’t! After all
A person’s a person. No matter how small.”

Then Horton stopped walking.
The speck-voice was talking!
The voice was so faint he could just barely hear it.
“Speak up, please,” Said Horton. He put his ear near it.
“My friend,” came the voice, “you’re a very fine friend.
You’ve helped all us folks on this dust speck no end.
You’ve saved all our houses, our ceilings and floors.
You’ve saved all our churches and grocery stores.”

“You mean…” Horton gasped, “you have buildings there, too?”
“Oh, yes,” piped the voice. “We most certainly do…
“I know,” called the voice, “I’m too small to be seen
But I’m Mayor of a town that is friendly and clean.
Our buildings, to you, would seem terribly small
But to us, who aren’t big, they are wonderfully tall.
My town is called Who-ville, for I am a Who
And we Whos are all thankful and grateful to you”

And Horton called back to the Mayor of the town,
“You’re safe now. Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.”

But, Just as he spoke to the Mayor of the speck,
Three big jungle monkeys climbed up Horton’s neck!
The Wickersham Brothers came shouting, “What rot!
This elephants talking to Whos who are not!
There aren’t any Whos! And they don’t have a Mayor!
And we’re going to stop all this nonsense! So there!”

They snatched Horton’s clover! They carried it off
To a black-bottomed eagle named Valad Vlad-I-koff,
A mighty strong eagle, of very swift wing,
And they said, “Will you kindly get rid of this thing?”
And, before the poor elephant could even speak,
That eagle flew off with the flower in his beak.

All that late afternoon and far into the night
That black-bottomed bird flapped his wings in fast flight,
While Horton chased after, with groans, over stones
That tattered his toenails and battered his bones,
And begged, “Please don’t harm all my little folks, who
Have as much right to live as us bigger folk do!”

But far, far beyond him, that eagle kept flapping
And over his shoulder called back, “Quit your yapping.
I’ll fly the night through. I’m a bird. I don’t mind it.
And I’ll hide this, tomorrow, where you’ll never find it!”

And at 6:56 the next morning he did it.
It sure was a terrible place that he hid it.
He let that small clover drop somewhere inside
Of a great patch of clovers a hundred miles wide!
“Find THAT!” sneered the bird. “But I think you will fail.”
And he left
With a flip
Of his black-bottomed tail.

“I’ll find it!” cried Horton. “I’ll find it or bust!
I SHALL find my friends on my small speck of dust!”
And clover, by clover, by clover with care
He picked up and searched the, and called, “Are you there?”
But clover, by clover, by clover he found
That the one that he sought for was just not around.
And by noon poor old Horton, more dead than alive,
Had picked, searched, and piled up, nine thousand and five.

Then, on through the afternoon, hour after hour…
Till he found them at last! On the three millionth flower!
“My friends!” cried the elephant. “Tell me! Do tell!
Are you safe? Are you sound? Are you whole? Are you well?”

From down on the speck came the voice of the Mayor:
“We’ve really had trouble! Much more than our share.
When that black-bottomed birdie let go and we dropped,
We landed so hard that our clocks have all stopped.
Our tea pots are broken. Our rocking-chairs are smashed.
And our bicycle tires all blew up when we crashed.
So, Horton, Please!” pleaded that voice of the Mayor’s,
“Will you stick by us Whos while we’re making repairs?”

“Of course,” Horton answered. “Of course I will stick.
I’ll stick by you small folks though thin and though thick!”

“Humpf!” humpfed a voice!
“For almost two days you’ve run wild and insisted
On chatting with persons who’ve never existed.
Such carryings-on in our peaceable jungle!
We’ve had quite enough of your bellowing bungle!
And I’m here to state,” snapped the big kangaroo,
“That your silly nonsensical game is all through!”
And the young kangaroo in her pouch said, “Me, too!”

“With the help of the Wickersham Brothers and dozens
Of Wickersham Uncles and Wickershams Cousins
And Wickersham In-Laws, whose help I’ve engaged,
You’re going to be roped! And you’re going to be caged!
And, as for your dust speck…hah!
That we shall boil
In a hot steaming kettle of Beezle-Nut Oil!”
“Boil it?…” gasped Horton!
“Oh, that you can’t do!
It’s all full of persons!
They’ll prove it to you!”

“Mr. Mayor! Mr. Mayor!” Horton called. “Mr. Mayor!
You’ve got to prove that you really are there!
So call a big meeting. Get everyone out.
Make every Who holler! Make every Who shout!
Make every Who scream! If you don’t, every Who
Is going to end up in a Beezle-Nut stew!”

And, down on the dust speck, the scared little Mayor
Quick called a big meeting in Who-ville Town Square.
And his people cried loudly. They cried out in fear:
“We are here! We are here! We are here!”

The elephant smiled: “That was clear as a bell.
You Kangaroos surely heard that very well.”
“All I heard,” snapped the big kangaroo, “Was the breeze,
And the faint sound of wind through the far-distant trees.
I heard no small voices. And you didn’t either.”
And the you kangaroo in her pouch said, “Me, neither.”

“Grab him!” they shouted. “And cage the big dope!
Lasso his stomach with ten miles of rope!
Tie the knots tight so he’ll never shake lose!
Then dunk that dumb speck in the Beezle-Nut juice!”



Horton fought back with great vigor and vim
But the Wickersham gang was too many for him.
They beat him! They mauled him! They started to haul
Him into his cage! But he managed to call
To the Mayor: “Don’t give up! I believe in you all
A person’s a person, no matter how small!
And you very small persons will not have to die
If you make yourselves heard! So come on, now, and TRY!”

The Mayor grabbed a tom-tom. He started to smack it.
And, all over Who-ville, they whooped up a racked.
They rattled tie kettles! They beat on brass pans,
On garbage pail tops and old cranberry cans!
They blew on bazooka and blasted great toots
On clarinets, oom-pahs and boom-pahs and flutes!

Great gusts of loud racket rang high through the air.
They rattled and shook the whole sky! And the Mayor
Called up through the howling mad hullabaloo:
“Hey Horton! Hows this? Is our sound coming through?”

And Horton called back, “I can hear you just fine.
But the kangaroos’ ears aren’t as strong, quite, as mine.
They don’t hear a thing! Are you sure all you boys
Are doing their best? Are they ALL making noise?
Are you sure every Who down in Who-ville is working?
Quick! Look through your town! Is there anyone shirking?”

Through the town rushed the Mayor, From the east to the west.
But everyone seemed to be doing his best.
Everyone seemed to be yapping or yipping!
Everyone seemed to be beeping or bipping!
But it wasn’t enough, all this ruckus and roar!
He HAD to find someone to help him make more.
He raced through each building! He searched floor-to-floor!

And, just as he felt he was getting nowhere,
And almost about to give up in despair,
He suddenly burst through a door and that Mayor
Discovered one shirker! Quite hidden away
In the Fairfax Apartments (Apartment 12-J)
A very small, very small shirker named Jo-Jo
was standing, just standing, and bouncing a Yo-Yo!
Not making a sound! Not a yipp! Not a chirp!
And the Mayor rushed inside and he grabbed the young twerp!

And he climbed with the lad up the Eiffelberg Tower.
“This,” cried the Mayor, “is your towns darkest hour!
The time for all Whos who have blood that is red
To come to the aid of their country!” he said.
“We’ve GOT to make noises in greater amounts!
So, open your mouth, lad! For every voice counts!”

Thus he spoke as he climbed. When they got to the top,
The lad cleared his throat and he shouted out, “YOPP!”

And that Yopp…
That one small, extra Yopp put it over!
Finally, at last! From that speck on that clover
Their voices were heard! They rang out clear and clean.
And the elephant smiled. “Do you see what I mean?…
They’ve proved they ARE persons, no matter how small.
And their whole world was saved by the smallest of All!”

“How true! Yes, how true,” said the big kangaroo.
“And, from now on, you know what I’m planning to do?…
From now on, I’m going to protect them with you!”
And the young kangaroo in her pouch said…
“…ME, TOO!”
“From the sun in the summer. From rain when it’s fall-ish,
I’m going to protect them. No matter how small-ish!”

The end!