Hymn Nuggets

I’m a praise song girl. The entrance into worship is easy and I love where it takes me.   It feels really good to sing “I am Yours Lord” and “I give it all to You”.   And I really mean it… at least at the moment.  Ten minutes later I may be deciding which church door will get me out more quickly or what lunch food I’m hungering for.  The change from praise to the practical happens as easily as a light switch.   Maybe it’s just my problem but I find it so easy to slip in and out of worship.

Ironically, I grew up with hymns.  The traditional church of which I was a member was one where ladies wore fancy hats, men were decked out in suits and the pews were lined with velvet.  I didn't meet Jesus there, at least not as I now know Him.  Yet I experienced a reverence and an awe for worship in that sanctuary.  Admittedly, the hymns contained words that were stilted and seemed fashioned after another time.  But something else was different that I think was a good thing. 

The hymns didn't focus upon what I felt, but Who God was and what He had accomplished. 

There seems to have been a subtle shift from praising God for Who He is to praising God for what He does for us and how good He makes us feel.  And I fall into this trap so easily.  Yes, God has done great things for me but I must be careful to not place myself as the center as if it all revolves around me.  Our God is an awesome God, with or without me in the equation.

This Advent season I am planning to tackle the hymn.  Instead of an Advent calendar, I discovered a dust covered hymnal in my collection.  As I prepare my heart for the Christmas season, I want to focus anew upon the Godhead through hymns written by men and women over the ages.  Though some of the terminology may be unfamiliar they are sure to encompass some real gold.  I'm going to study them, sing them and enter into praise of the One who never changes or goes out of fashion.. 

So if you happen to wander through my neighborhood over the holidays and hear the strains of an old fashioned hymn sing instead of a Christmas carol, you've got the inside scoop..

Fly

I have often admired the trajectory of birds as they migrate across the horizon in flight.  They seem so purposeful as they grace the skies with their artistry.  When something fearful on the ground disrupts their peace, they soar gracefully toward the heavens. 

We would do well, I think, to emulate their movement.  When life here on earth erupts into trouble as it often does, we tend to stay grounded in the messiness of our suffering.  We may confer with others, even those we respect spiritually, but we spend most of our efforts replaying the options in our minds, tossing to and fro in frustration.  We keep our eyes downward instead of upward.  Why not, in the power of the Spirit, let our thoughts and fears take flight to the Lover of soul?  It is upward where our comfort and reassurance lie - in His arms and His wisdom.

Our human parents, Adam and Eve, have predisposed us to the ground.  We spend much of our time working the ground.  We cover our nakedness and shame while relationships are frequently fraught with sorrow.  But when Christ died and rose again, He offered us another path.   He took flight to the side of the Father and He promised that He would prepare a place for us as well.  Knowing this, why do we not soar to His side at the least provocation?

Scripture says that “we are worth more than many sparrows” who frequently seem to know the right direction better than I.  Today and always in the future I will face several potentially difficult situations.  The challenge remains: will I follow my feathered friends in flight?

  

The Pitfalls of Excellence

There are few things more frustrating: I am on the hunt for something I have misplaced.  I'm always sure that the item sprouted wings but in the end I discover it right where I left it. 

Unfortunately, it’s a bit more complicated when something is gone and we don’t realize it.  The church at Ephesus in the book of Revelation comes to mind.  The constituents were hard working and full of good deeds.  They had persevered and endured hardship in the name of Christ without growing weary.  They were even able to discern true apostleship.  All of these are signs of a healthy, vibrant church.   And let’s face it, they looked pretty good.  But before we are quick to say “sign me up” you may remember that there was one critical ingredient that was missing. 

They had lost their First Love. 

And I wonder.  Isn't the greater tragedy not that it happened, but that they were unaware and functioning well without knowing it?  And this thought terrifies me.  

Because it means that a church can look good while relying on the strength of man but be a counterfeit of the living breathing Bride of Christ. 

The church here in North America is equipped in so many ways.  We have wealth, education, and giftedness.  There are programs to fit every need, multiple pastors to minister and support groups for our dysfunctions.  While these are all good things, I wonder if we are too fat... too well cared for.   Have we begun to lean upon our own understanding, upon the  "institution" of church rather than upon our First Love?  Has our excellence surpassed our Love?  The Bible says what we treasure will also be the location of our heart so perhaps that's the place to start looking.

As a nurse I know that one of the signs of impending death in a terminal illness is often an absence of hunger.  The body shuts down, quietly closing its doors to the sustenance of life.  Likewise, when the Bride loses her appetite for the Bridegroom, the perils of death await us. 

May God save us from ourselves and renew our love for the true Bread of Life..  

Truth

In reality I didn't know the truth.

I didn't know from where he hailed nor at that moment did I care.  The morning had gone from bad to worse and the responsibilities of the day hung over me like the stethoscope around my neck.  I knew I was in trouble when his wife accompanied him to the clinical testing area.  And then the communication debacle began.  His native language and mine did not jive, instructions had to be repeated and I could tell that the understanding was limited by the pauses between us.  The usual quick start to our testing stretched into time I didn't think I had.  I confess, I felt annoyed.  

However, once the testing ensued, I began to ask questions.  I really listened to this man instead of making a snap judgment, depriving him of his beauty and worth as one of God's creation.  I discovered that though his English was limited, his intelligence and life experiences far exceeded mine.  He was gracious and appreciative in a manner that I did not deserve.

And I was so convicted.  I began to see how easily I view others as obstacles to move about in my day.  I am pretty sure that Jesus, The Truth, would tell me those people are my day.

Today I am going to start my routine based upon the Truth.  That God so loved the world that He gave... And I pray that my perspective will be His.

Together

The sound of restaurant dishes tangling with silverware drowned out the stillness in my heart.  On the previous night I had met with an admired Christian author in Tucson and special memories circled in my mind as my hands encircled the coffee cup I was holding. Strangers before that evening, we had come together as one Christ follower with another.  A togetherness like no other.

Still, that next morning I was alone. Actually, that's the way I like it much of the time.  And on that intentionally planned solo trip, I found myself tucked away in the corner of the restaurant while the sun beckoned to me from the window on the other side.  A gentleman next to me, sharing the cushioned bench seating, shifted his weight causing my small frame to temporarily go airborne.  I chuckled to myself but really it only increased my sense of isolation and insignificance.  And then he dared to speak.  He asked about the breakfast. "Good", I answered quickly but like a cockroach returned to my darkened corner.  And then there was silence as he settled in for the long wait to be served his breakfast.  

And now, I wonder. Did he need to see Jesus in my eyes when I cast only a sideways glance and guarded my own discomfort?  And as I safely hid in obscurity, did I not cloister the very substance of the Gospel - caring enough about another to put aside my own comfort?  Do I not know that in a routine moment, God can change a life?  I am tired of not seeing into eyes.  I think He wants more from me than that.

My new friend in Tucson made herself available to a stranger. We shared face to face.

Together.

Should I offer another anything less ?

Grace Notes

The tiny Episcopalian church was nestled at the end of Wallace Circle where we lived.  She was Catholic and I was Baptist though I‘m quite sure neither of us could have articulated the theology of the camp that claimed us.  Slipping through the unlocked sanctuary doors, we would sashay across shellacked wooden pew seats and reach for musty hymn books.  The sweet sound of little girl’s voices escaped to the towering ceilings, a soprano melded with a harmonizing alto.  Strains of Fairest Lord Jesus and Be Thou My Vision poured from our lips long before we knew the One of whom we sang. 

Often we would see or hear the priest enter the area but he never discouraged our stealth worship.  It was as if he had clearly heard Jesus say, “Let the little children come unto Me”.  And come we did.

It would be years before those hours bore fruit in my life.  But Mercy’s arms are long for the reaching.  And recently I've been thinking a lot about moments like the “hymn sings”.  God so artfully weaves those golden strands through the dirt and grind of our lives.  And like the strength of a spider’s silken web, they are capable of supporting the weight of a life wearied soul if we but only pause to see them.

I have several that I can pull out of my own archives: 

Mr LaPole, the faithful (but boring) Sunday School teacher who tried to teach the Bible to a table of Junior High kids as he mopped sweat from his brow.   But he was there and I remember his commitment.

The church camp high that I experienced, hinting that there was "something more".

My serendipitous interview, as a journalism major, with Miss Teen America that led to a Campus Crusade for Christ encounter.

The faithful friends that walked with me, spoke truth into my life and held me accountable when my feet slipped off the narrow path.

All of these are holy moments- part of the Master Architect's grand design and just waiting to be rediscovered.  What are yours?

Laundry

Today I am teaming up with Lisa-Jo Baker on Five Minute Friday.  Each Friday she gives one word and bloggers from all over write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking. And then we link up with her.  Here's my first shot at it!

The word today is: Laundry.

                                                     

Laundry - a kind of a rite of passage in itself.  It means I am caring for myself and others in a concrete way.  For me, it’s a cleansing of more than the outer because I find it lightens the load (no pun intended).  There is something about a routine ritual that is part of living.  Its repetitive nature means there is no ultimate completion of this responsibility but for some reason, the sense of accomplishment rewards me.   Even sorting begins to release the pressure valve I experience when I see overflowing laundry baskets.  And as I work through the laundry process, there is time to think, plan and consider the things the Spirit has laid upon my heart.  It’s as if each disappearing pile gives me a more spacious place mentally to ruminate about life.

And isn't that how life is to be lived really?  Doing that which needs to be done but allowing the Lord to be part of it. 

Because laundry is what He does.  He takes that which is unclean and makes it clean.  Could there be a higher calling than that?