...the harmony of rising

Lift every voice and sing, till earth and heaven ring, ring with the harmonies of liberty;

let our rejoicing rise, high as the listening skies, let it resound loud as the rolling sea.

Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;

facing the rising sun of our new day begun, let us march on till victory is won.

---James Weldon Johnson, 1900

This hymn, penned by the incredible American poet James Weldon Johnson at the turning of the 20^th century, gives me the chills, partly for the inspiration of the text, and partly for the personal history it holds for me. As a very young teacher in downtown Atlanta, I was introduced to this song, as my students often sang it alongside the national anthem as part of their morning inspiration. These children, not just in the singing of this anthem, were often my teachers in those tender years; and these words of hope were often a lifeline for me.

Today when I sat with this text, what came rushing to mind were words from another song. In ‘I Have Made Mistakes’, the Oh Hellos sing:

We have lived in fear, we have lived in fear, and our fear has betrayed us

            And we will overcome, we will overcome the apathy that has made us

Cause we are not alone, we are not alone in the dark with our demons

We have made mistakes, we have made mistakes, but we’ve learned from them.

I see so many beautiful parallels between these two songs. The first truth, one that my own life bears out again and again, is that the past, even the dark, can be a teacher. The voice of hope, the overcoming, is strongly threaded throughout. But what stood out to me the most tonight (is it because we are working on harmony singing in Older Children’s Choir each Sunday night lately?) is the emphasis on ‘not-aloneness’. This world becomes so much less overwhelming when you are holding hands with a brother or sister. And, although you can sing a beautiful melody by yourself, you will never sing beautiful harmony until you sing it with others.

This hopeful, tough, overcoming, rising, life of ours? It is made for life together. And we belong to each other.

...in it, and of it

I want to walk as a child of the light; I want to follow Jesus.

God set the stars to give light to the world; the star of my life is Jesus.

In Him there is no darkness at all; the night and the day are both alike.

The Lamb is the light of the city of God: Shine in my heart, Lord Jesus.

---Kathleen Thomerson, 1966

This text deals with the duality of light, peculiar to religious expression. In the faith view of Christianity, Jesus is a light out front of us, to guide us in the right path. This light guides both our belief and our everyday action, leading us to consider the quality of Jesus’ light to form our own quality of life.

But there is a second aspect to the light that is Jesus. That light exists not only outside of us, to guide, but abides to light our inner lives. Jesus lives and works in the world, but also lives and works in our hearts, both beckoning and urging. This light guides our steps, and illuminates our souls. We are in the light, and made of it.

I want to walk as a child of the light.

...in various wrappings

In our joys and in our sorrows, days of toil and hours of ease,

still he calls in cares and pleasures, “Christian, love me more than these.”

Jesus calls us: by your mercies, Savior, may we hear your call,

Give our hearts to full obedience, serve and love you best of all.

---Cecil F. Alexander, 1852

“Christian, love me more than these.” It seems safe to say the thought of being called to love Jesus more than the temporal pleasures of this world is not uncommon. Here in this hymn we are called from the “worship of the vain world’s golden store,” from idols that keep us from God, from joys, from hours of ease, from pleasures. All the things that distract us from our true selves in Christ seem to fit into one of these categories. All the empty glittery good stuff with which the world entices us seems to be covered.

But then I notice: other distractions are mentioned, and they don’t seem as obvious as the pleasures. There is the “tumult of our life’s wild, restless sea” noted in the first verse, and sorrow, days of toil, and cares. Is Cecil Alexander implying that the cares, sorrows, worries, and busy-ness of daily life can also keep us from devotion to our Savior? I think so.

And now that I think about it, he may be right. The things that distract me from walking in Jesus’ way come wrapped in all sorts of packages. What hinders you from daily following Jesus?

...for ALL the saints

And when the strife is fierce, the warfare long,

Steals on the ear the distant triumph song,

And hearts are brave again and arms are strong.

Alleluia!

---William Walsham How, 1864

Some weeks just wear you down. Your good intentions are misconstrued, your to-do list is filled with didn’ts, your best effort isn’t good enough. The half-inch of restoring rain is forgotten in months of choking drought. The dream job you studied for and fought to land has turned into the shackles and chains that threaten to drag you under with the weight of stress and pressure. The last-minute, miracle touchdown drive is replaced in memory by your opponent’s last-second pass-that-defied-logic, and you lose…again.

What keeps me coming back to this place, week after week, when the world doesn’t always make sense? It’s the song I hear in the distance, peculiar to this place---this place filled with the spirits of those gone on before, and the spirits of those in the pew next to me. The song is one of triumph; and our hearts, mine and yours, are brave again, and our arms are strong.

Just in time to tackle another week in the real world, strengthened by the song I hear in this place, among these saints.