...in the tough middle

If you will only let God guide you, and hope in Him through all your ways,

whatever comes, He’ll stand beside you, to bear you through the evil days;

who trusts in God’s unchanging love builds on the Rock that cannot move.

---Georg Neumark, 1657

            “Gray skies are gonna clear up! Put on a happy face!

            Brush off the clouds and cheer up! Put on a happy face!”

Penned by lyricist Lee Adams for the mod musical Bye Bye Birdie, these upbeat lyrics spread a ‘feel-good gospel’—just smile, because life is gonna be all rainbows and flower gardens. Good things happen to good people! You attract what you resemble! …and, by implication, if life is not so good, you must be doing it wrong.

Well, friends, this hymn, 460 years old this year, calms me considerably. Because frankly, what I just described isn’t my life, not every day. Some days, my smile may be a little forced, or absent altogether. Some days, my happy face may be grimy with struggle, or streaked with tears. And on those days? On those days, the last thing I need is the added guilt of believing that my struggle is proof of my failure to live right, proof of my lack of faith.

This life, with our good God, is not lived above the fray, but in its midst—in the grimy, scary, tough middle. What promise, what comfort, then, that we don’t make our way through these days alone, but in the company of God beside us. What better place to pitch our tent than on the solid rock of the abiding love of God.

Life shifts and changes, but the love of God…it is the unchanging presence on which we stand.

...to not see

Teach me your way, O Lord, teach me your way!

your guiding grace afford, teach me your way!

Help me to walk aright, more by faith, less by sight;

lead me with heavenly light, teach me your way.

---B. Mansell Ramsey, 1919

More by faith, less by sight. Is there anything we humans like less than not seeing? Whether it is a fear of the dark, the panic of a blindfold, or the frustration of low vision or driving through a pounding rainstorm, not seeing can leave us feeling helpless, and hopeless. Yet in scripture we are instructed to ‘walk by faith and not by sight.’ Could anything take us out of our comfort zone faster?

How might our lives change if we walked less by sight and more by faith? Would our decision-making process change? What judgements might we forgo, or at least suspend?  Would we experience others’ needs and problems in a different light? Would our dependence on God make us weak…or would it make us strong?

...like you-hu-hu

Gracious Spirit, dwell with me, I would gracious be;

help me now Thy grace to see, I would be like Thee;

and, with words that help and heal, Thy life would mine reveal;

and, with actions bold and meek, for Christ my Savior speak.

---Thomas Toke Lynch, 1855

One of my favorite movies as a child was Walt Disney’s The Jungle Book. A soundtrack highlight for me was the scat jazz ‘I Wanna Be Like You’, sung by the masterful Louis Prima and penned by Richard and Robert Sherman. In the chorus, King Louie sings,

            Oh, ooh-bee-doo, I wanna be like you-hu-hu,

            I wanna walk like you, talk like you, too…

Now, in the movie, King Louie had his own reasons for wanting to be like Mowgli. But I thought about this song when I read this verse of today’s hymn for the upcoming observance of Children’s Sabbath at our church.

I thought of it because, as a follower of Jesus, there is nothing I want more than to be like Jesus. I want to walk ( and live) in the way of Jesus; I want to talk (and love) in the way of Jesus. ‘I would gracious be;’ I want to live my whole life letting my words, my actions, my intentions be motivated and guided by the gift of love that has surrounded me from birth.

How will I live if I know that I am representing Jesus to the world? I want Jesus to speak through my life by my actions, bold in love and meek when honoring others. I want to show Jesus’ life in mine, through words that help and heal, in a world where words often tear down and injure, or where silence causes wounds of its own.

Gracious spirit, dwell with me, I would gracious be…

I wanna walk like you, talk like you, too…

...reckless in giving

Take whatever I can offer --- gifts that I have yet to find,

Skills that I am slow to sharpen, talents of the hand and mind,

Things made beautiful for others in the place where I must be;

Take my gifts and let me love You, God who first of all loved me.

---Shirley Erena Murray, 1992

Offering. Giving. $$$. If we are honest, many of us equate “giving” and “offering” with dollars. And there is no doubt about it --- the challenges of the world need your dollars, and mine. But what intangibles do you command that could make this world a better place? What of your own essence can you offer to God?

Is there a skill you can offer? Some expertise you can bring to a situation? What talent could you bring? Could you make the world a more beautiful place with your art, your music? Could you give voice to those without? Shirley Erena Murray, a New Zealand hymnist, imagines offering gifts and skills still “in development” to God; gifts we are still discovering can be offered in trust to God. Can we be reckless in our giving to God, offering up still unformed parts of ourselves in the assurance that utility, even beauty, can be shaped from them? Do we trust God to honor our gifts offered in love?

God. Who first of all loved us.

...narrow minds, wide mercy, thank God

There’s a wideness in God’s mercy, like the wideness of the sea;

There’s a kindness in his justice which is more than liberty.

For the love of God is broader than the measure of the mind;

And the heart of the Eternal is most wonderfully kind.

---Frederick W. Faber, 1854

There is good news for us today, friends! God refuses to be restricted to the limits of our thoughts about God! What a humbling thought --- that our minds cannot conceive of the true nature of God’s mercy, grace, and provision. No matter how vast and gracious we make God in our minds, God is bigger and more loving. Even our idea of liberty as a high human and divine ideal is puny next to God’s sense of, and exercise of, justice. In a very real way, we have no idea what God is capable of!

We must be careful, I think, not to limit God to our own understanding, not to place labels on God that (by definition) will limit and diminish God’s essential nature. We would do well, I think, not to trade the limitless compassion of a mysterious God for the quantifiable allowances of a manageable god. In the end, if that is the trade we make, we miss out on so much of who God is.

 But thanks be to God! Whatever we think, feel, imagine…God…is…more.

...befriend me

Praise to the Lord, who doth prosper thy works and defend thee;

Surely his goodness and mercy here daily attend thee.

Ponder anew what the Almighty can do,

If with his love he befriend thee.

---Joachim Neander, 1680

This particular hymn text astounds me. Penned in 1680 (the translation made in 1868), this text deals with the nature of God’s power. What is amazing to me is the intimate nature of the relationship the writer envisions between the powerful God of the universe and regular gals and fellas like us. I know I shouldn’t, but I tend to think of intimacy with God as a contemporary thought; this text brings me up short. This familiarity, this friendship, is nothing evolved with our relational thinking; this has been a part of the way many before you and me have experienced God’s care for God’s beloved. I am asked to ponder anew what friendship with God can mean to regular folk like me.

What does it mean to be friends with God? How does this new identity affect the way I view my worth, my potential, my value? And how would being God’s friend change the way I walk on this earth, the way I relate to the rest of humanity? How would being God’s friend make me a more compassionate, more understanding, more tender friend to you? What kind of effect does that kind of friendship have?

...the song goes on

Lo! The apostolic train joins your sacred name to hallow;

prophets swell the glad refrain, and the white-robed martyrs follow.

And from morn to set of sun, through the church the song goes on.

---Ignaz Franz, 18th century

I haven’t spent much time up north, where lots of mighty rivers originate. I have heard that even the Mighty Mississippi begins as a tiny trickle somewhere up in Minnesota (or, #controversyalert, South Dakota!), before growing to one of the most powerful rivers in the world down south. I am reminded of its slightly more northerly section, and its building power, when I think of the heartbreaking scene in Huckleberry Finn in which Huck and Jim desperately try to resist the flow of the swollen Mississippi in an effort to navigate onto the Ohio, and freedom. But you can’t fight the current of a river that big.

And I’ve actually stood in the headwaters of our own ‘mighty Chattahoochee’ in the mountains not many hours’ drive from here. What starts small is added to by the trickle of tens, of hundreds, streams---until it is flowing with a calm force that will not be denied.

The song of praise that all creation sings had its genesis, well, you know, at the beginning. Can’t you imagine the first elements of creation finding voice and offering that gift up to Creator? And on, through the love story of God and God’s creation, the song has grown---tens, hundreds of trickles and rivulets merging and mingling to create one song that will not be denied.

Do you hear the people sing?

...refuge and strength

Though the earth give way
When the mountains sway
If the seas heave and roar
When I can't stand more---
God is our refuge and strength
A help ever present, we won't be afraid.
God is our refuge and strength
We'll dwell near you all of our days.
---from Psalm 46/para.laca.

No matter how the world changes under our feet...our God walks beside us.

Click below to hear the song setting of this Psalm paraphrase...

Though the Earth Give Way

...for a reason

We are called to be God’s prophets, speaking for the truth and right,

Standing firm for godly justice, bringing evil into light.

Let us seek the courage needed, our high calling to fulfill,

That we all may know the blessing of the doing of God’s will.

---Thomas A. Jackson, 1973

Prophet. When I see the word, my mind goes to seers, oracles, fortune-tellers, or at least future-tellers. Some guy dressed in outrageous rags with a more outrageous hair-do, straight up giving the king the business. Same dude, few days later, found tossed off the city heights or ripped limb from limb ‘under mysterious circumstances’. Is that your mental image, too? This does not sound like a highly sought-after gig, my people.  

In actuality, the word means something less spectacular, and more applicable to our lives today. A prophet is one who speaks a fresh word from God for the world. You see my meaning? We could all be called to be prophets, listening to the guidance of God as we share a fresh message of hope to the world. We could be the ones called to envision and embody the reign of Christ in the world. We could be the ones called to speak hope to despair. Strength to fear. Love to apathy. Welcome to mistrust. Plenty to scarcity.  Sound daunting? It does to me, too. But our help and courage comes from our close relatedness to Jesus and his message. Prophets. I am, and you are. All of us are called. And brothers and sisters, we have these voices for a reason.

...different, together.

God is here! As we Your people meet to offer praise and prayer,

May we find in fuller measure what it is in Christ we share.

Here, as in the world around us, all our varied skills and arts

Wait the coming of the Spirit into open minds and hearts.

---Fred Pratt Green, 1978

Here we are, God. We come to this place with an incredible array of talents, needs, resources, hurts, dreams, and personalities. It is quite amazing that we all keep coming here to make a church, isn’t it? What is it that keeps us coming back, that entices us to search for the things that bind us?

In the midst of our differences --- of need and resource, of faith and fear, of black and white and shades of gray --- we seek the coming of the Spirit of Christ. We await the Spirit, anticipate the Spirit --- to enliven us, to inform us, to enlarge us, to add meaning to our lives.

We pray, we praise, we seek, we anticipate…together

...lost...and home.

Words of life, words of hope,

give us strength, help us cope;

in this world where’er we roam

God’s ancient words will guide us home.

---Lynn DeShazo, 2001

Have you ever gotten lost? Turned around? So worn out you lost track of the path ahead of you and stumbled into the high grass off the side of the trail? Have you ever looked around for a sign, or down at a map, or up at the stars, and wondered, “Where in the world am I?” Have you ever sat there, where you found yourself---lost---and asked yourself, the open road, no one in particular, “How in the world did I get to here?”

Friends, I am the queen of getting lost, but not just in a literal way. I cannot count the times I’ve gotten lost behind a guitar, or in the pages of a book, or in front of a screen of some sort. I’ve been lost at the bottom of a mountain of to-do's, and in a deep well of lonesomeness; and lost in frustration with the inadequacies of this broken world, and inadequacies of my own. How about you? Where do you get lost?

What hopeful, life-giving words, then, what a promise---that ancient words, God-inspired and preserved for us in Scripture, stand as a beacon in our lostness, in our turn-aroundness, in our discouragement and weakness. I hear some speaking to me now:

            In this world you will have trouble, but fear not…I have overcome the world.

            The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.

            I have loved you with an everlasting love.

            You are mine. You are precious in my sight.

These are the words that guide me home. Every time…every time.

...change is...

Be still, my soul: The Lord is on your side.

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

leave to your God to order and provide;

in every change God faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul: Your best, your heavenly friend

through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

---Katharina von Schlegel, 1752

There seem to be truths about life, truths that anyone who lives long enough will experience. Life is not always fair. Bad things happen to good (and bad) people. And the only constant in this life…is change. And while I have made my peace with life’s essential unfairness, and the fact that good and bad things happen to good and bad folks, change kicks me in the teeth like a schoolyard bully every time. Weird thing is, I resist change even when the situation I find myself in isn’t particularly ideal. Because, you know, change, OUCH. You may have a problem with one of the other of these great life truths.

And with truths like that, we need a friend in our corner. In this text from the mid-1700’s, we are reminded that God, our best friend, is on our side (your side, my side, all of our sides---but that’s another story for another day). Armed with this knowledge, we are empowered to tackle and solve some of life’s problems. And the others? Those river rapids rushing in the near distance? We are supported while wading through treacherous crossings, a strong arm firm around us lest we slip beneath the surface.

Be still, my soul…there is One beside you.

...hide me

Jesus, Lover of my soul, let me to thy bosom fly,

while the nearer waters roll, while the tempest still is high;

hide me, O my Savior hide, till the storm of life is past;

safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.

Other refuge have I none; hangs my helpless soul on thee;

leave, ah! leave me not alone, still support and comfort me.

All my trust on thee is stayed, all my help from thee I bring;

cover my defenseless head with the shadow of thy wing.

---Charles Wesley, 1738

Sometimes we need to face the difficult circumstances in our lives, to fight the good fight, to stand and deliver. And sometimes we need to hide. This text is about those times. What comfort is present in these images, of Jesus as a lover and nurturer of what is most tender in us! What safety, to fly to the bosom of God, there to be held in the shadow of God’s wing, like a mother bird gathering and protecting her chicks with her very life. What a grace to be in relationship with a God who provides both the courage for living, and refuge for resting.

Hide me.

...whole, complex, complete

Finish then thy new creation, pure and spotless let us be;

Let us see thy great salvation perfectly restored in thee:

Changed from glory into glory, till in heaven we take our place,

Till we cast our crowns before thee, lost in wonder, love, and praise.

---Charles Wesley, 1747

Restored and finished. Charles Wesley, in the mid-1700’s, used these words to envision the fulfillment of God’s dream for humanity. With a love that surpasses any other concept of love, God continues to “create” us, to draw us toward purity, rendering out anything that blurs our essential essence. With each new day, God’s love transforms us, glory to glory, allowing each of us to become more of who we were always meant to be. This verse is an encouragement to me, as I often feel God must not quite be done with me yet!  What a God we worship, whose creation is not limited to a one-time act, but happens over and over to create and re-create us as whole, complex, and complete!

It’s enough to lose ourselves in wonder, love, and praise….

...not a shield...a shipmate

When I tread the verge of Jordan, bid my anxious fears subside;

bear me through the swelling current, land me safe on Canaan’s side:

songs of praises, songs of praises, I will ever give to Thee.

---William Williams, 1745

The world is always seeking escapes from real life. Drugs, alcohol, gambling, excessive screen time, plastic surgery, overeating---there are countless tempting ways to try avoiding the realities of this world. There is great allure for a hurting yet ingenious humanity to try conquering the unpleasantness of life in the same way we have conquered space flight, locomotion, or bacterial infection. And if we are honest, many of us want religion to serve the same purpose as these escapes---we want it to shield us from the unpleasantness and pain of real life.

In today’s text, the hymn writer confronts real life head-on. No mere escape, our faith walks with us through the fearful days (and they will come, they will come). “When I tread the verge of Jordan…” ‘When’, not ‘if’, and not ‘if I must’. Facing life head-on, the writer acknowledges that death is a reality we all must face. What calms his fears is the steadfast belief that he will land safe on the other side. Facing the choppy waters of the Jordan, our anxious fears subside when we are accompanied by our strong deliverer.

Songs of praises we will ever give to Thee.

...come and get it

Come, then, children, with your burdens --- life’s confusions, fears, and pain.

Leave them at the cross of Jesus, take instead His kingdom’s reign.

Bring your thirsts, for He will quench them --- He alone will satisfy.

All our longings find attainment when to self we gladly die.

---Marva J. Dawn, 1999

From pop culture to Protestant work ethic, from self-realization to prosperity gospel, even the loose cherry-picked readings of some of the New Testament’s “red letter writings” ---  all over, the universe seems to be sending us a message loud and clear: If you want it, come and get it. Take what you need. The desires of your heart are there for a reason. Seek and you will find. Work for what you want. God wants you to have nice things.

Here’s the thing, though. When we are invited, coaxed, beckoned, called by Jesus to walk in his path, we do hear “Ask, and it will be given you; search, and you will find….For everyone who asks receives.” But I can’t help but look at Jesus’ life among the poor and broken, and think that perpetual Christmas morning excess is not what he had in mind. I hear Jesus say, “When you lay down the distraction of what you thought you wanted, you can begin to focus on the real life of the spirit. And I will meet every need. And you will finally be able to stop striving, and running after, and grasping, and resenting. And then, friend, you will know what it is to live.”

Lay down your burdens at the cross. Pick up life.

...with our hands

Now thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices,

who wondrous things hath done, in whom His world rejoices;

who, from our mother’s arms, hath blessed us on our way

with countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.

---Marin Rinkhart, 1636

I wish that I had written the first line of this hymn (well, I might have tweaked the grammar a little, but otherwise…). We are used to, even weary of, talking about giving thanks. We have a holiday reserved for it (well, named for it…the holiday is reserved more and more for eating and Christmas shopping). We debate whether we teach our children well enough to say thank you as they grow up, and whether we continue that courtesy as adults. We spend our table graces and parts of our corporate and private prayers in thanksgiving for our blessings. This is not a novel thought.

The genius part? Thanking God with our hands. Now I get the thanking with our voices, and with our hearts, but with our hands? I like this way of thinking about thanking. What form would thanking with your hands take? Would you ‘pay it forward’? Would you practice random acts of kindness? Would you give more than you thought you could? Would you find yourself going above and beyond, if you thanked with you heart, your hands, your voice?

...I'll be good sometime

 Take my life, lead me, Lord, take my life, led me, Lord,

Make my life useful to Thee.

---R. Maines Rawls, 1968

I was sitting up late one night during a holiday break, when college-age children were ‘home’ for a bit. My cell phone chime startled me out of a thoughtful reverie (ok, Sarah, I was probably asleep in the green chair), and I picked it up to read the following text message: I’ll be good sometime. After my heart stopped racing, I was able to decipher the message; the sender’s predictive texting had interpreted the entered word ‘home’ as the word ‘good’ (same letters on the T9 keypad). And while I’ll be home sometime isn’t terribly specific, it is much more comforting than  I’ll be good sometime.

In this life, most of us can handle being called to ‘goodness’. We can do that, even if it is only ‘sometimes’. But, God knows, brothers and sisters, we are called to more than goodness. We are called to usefulness, to service, to faithfulness to the Savior who poured out his own life for ours.

Friends, we are not called just to be good; we are called to be good for something.

...never, never alone

There’s not a plant or flower below, but makes Thy glories known;

and clouds arise, and tempests blow, by order from Thy throne;

while all that borrows life from Thee is ever in Thy care,

and everywhere that we can be, Thou, God, art present there.

---Isaac Watts, 1715

The signs are all around. They are in the breeze, underfoot. In messages writ large and small, we are reminded that we don’t make our way through this life unaccompanied. Power and tenderness, delicacy and strength, stillness and motion---God’s presence is felt in myriad ways, in every place and time, in ways we desperately seek and in ways discovered as serendipitous gift.

The Psalmist relates it this way:

            Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?

            If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

            If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,

even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.

If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,

and the light around me become night,’

even the darkness is not dark to you;

the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you.

            ---Psalm 139: 7-12

Sisters and brothers, we are never. never. alone. And it is not our job to bind God to us some way.

Erasmus said, ‘Bidden or not bidden, God is present.’ Hear the good news, and rest assured.

,,,the wind changes everything

Wind who makes all winds that blow ---gusts that bend the saplings low,

gales that heave the sea in waves, stirrings in the mind’s deep caves ---

aim your breath with steady power on your church, this day, this hour.

Raise, renew the life we’ve lost, Spirit God of Pentecost.

---Thomas Troeger, 1983

It was one of those days. The kind when you slap bugs crawling up and down your back, and find it’s sweat pouring down your spine. When your gaze across the blacktop of the supermart parking lot is crazed and zagged by waves of rising heat. When the silence is so thick your ears ring with it. When you walk bowlegged, just to keep your thighs from rubbing together where they are chafed, from rubbing together on days just like this. Five days, ten. All of them. It has been this hot, this humid, this still, for. ev. er.

You have work to do. The heat, the stillness won’t stop you, won’t keep you from working with skill, with dedication, with honor. Won’t cause you to throw up your hands, throw in the towel, throw up the white flag of surrender. You believe in the work you do, feel called to it, even. Leaving it undone, or half-done, feels as wrong as planting without mulch to protect from the harsh sun. Beside all that, you are no quitter, are you?

So you keep on.

But, playing with your sweaty curls, ruffling the hem of your red-dusted work shirt, sending pecan leaves trembling is a freshening, a breeze. You raise your eyes to the horizon, edge of disbelieving…but there it is, again. You are still, almost afraid to move for fear the wind will disappear. But you do. And it doesn’t.

And that wind. It renews. It envigorates. It restores the joy to the work you were doing. It colors your shades of grey world, reminds you how good, how life-giving, your labor was. Is.

The wind? It changes everything.

...one epic jam

The earth is God’s flute, God’s cello and chime,

the wind draws the notes. The seasons keep time.

At dusk and at night, from the sunrise past noon

God’s playing and singing a ravishing tune.

---Thomas Troeger, 1985

Thou rushing wind that art so strong, ye clouds that sail in heaven along,

Thou rising morn, in praise rejoice; ye lights of evening, find a voice.

Thou flowing water, pure and clear, make music for thy Lord to hear;

Thou fire so masterful and bright, that givest us both warmth and light.

Alleluia!

---Francis of Assisi, 1225

I spent this evening making music with some of the greatest guys I know. We sat in a circle, and played and sang with, and for, each other. We learned, and taught, suggested, improved, polished, sat back and enjoyed. Some of my favorite times are those I spend sitting with people who love songs like I do, making them come alive.

I spend a good bit of my free time with music. Listening to music, singing, playing, writing music---marrying text with tune to find the just-right expression that transcends both. The first hymn text above, from Thomas Troeger, asks us to imagine Creator God, sitting in a circle with all of creation, making sacred sound that becomes more beautiful as more, and more diverse, elements are added to its harmonies. Imagine sitting in that singing circle! After living with the charming Troeger text, my mind was drawn, repeatedly, back across centuries to the words of celebration and praise left us by Francis of Assisi. He so connected with Creator God through God’s creation; this text is praise to the Creator and thanksgiving for the music of creation.

Grab a drum or guitar, or warm up your pipes…God is gathering all creation for a music circle! Let’s not be late…I hear it will be epic.

...in your eyes

To all, life thou givest, to both great and small;

in all life thou livest, the true life of all;

we blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,

and wither and perish – but naught changeth thee.

---Walter Chalmers Smith, 1867

This mid 19^th century hymn of praise tackles a tough issue for many God-seekers of all eras: the unknow-ability of God. God, invisible, hidden, inaccessible. Over centuries, millennia, from the dawn of humankind, folk have been searching for a face for God; usually the one we come up with is an awful lot like our own. Having an invisible God doesn’t suit a human race that likes visibility. Thus, we erect statues. We paint icons and frescoes. We weave tapestries. We create stories full of personification and pronouns. We fall short. Every time. Our minds are too small for the vastness of God’s identity.

And that’s ok. With every rendering, parable, grasping simile, we stretch ourselves to glimpse a little more of the God-ness of God. In this hymn, Walter Chalmers Smith grasped just a bit, I think. God gives life to all, great and small. God lives a true life in all. God lives in all. …God lives in all? If God is present in all life, perhaps we need not look too far to catch a glimpse of God’s glory. Perhaps I need only look into your eyes, and you need only look into mine.

...this side of heaven

For the joy of human love,

brother, sister, parent, child,

friends on earth and friends above,

for all gentle thoughts and mild,

Lord of all, to Thee we raise this

our hymn of grateful praise.

---Folliott S Pierpoint, 1864

The joy of human love. Flawed, fragile, erring love, conditional and weak, sometimes selfish and self-serving. Love has come through and come around. Love has rescued and resisted. Love has let me down, and ground me down. Love has promised and lied. But love, nonetheless, sometimes wounded or wounding, the best we have to give and receive this side of heaven.

It’s an easy thing to be thankful for God’s love for us ---the perfect, endless, complete love of our boundless God, shown us in Jesus. This verse reminds us that there is joy in the human love we share with those close to us, imperfect thought it may be. And the more we practice this human love, the better reflection of God’s love we are able to mirror in our own relationships. The love of those around us strengthens and encourages.

Let’s raise our hymn to God for the joy of human love. Praise and gratitude, Lord of all.

...beloved, and loving

All who hunger, sing together; Jesus Christ is living bread.

Come from loneliness and longing. Here, in peace, we have been led.

Blest are those who from this table live their days in gratitude.

Taste and see the grace eternal. Taste and see that God is good.

---Sylvia Dunstan, 1990

Communion. Union. Community. From the Latin communio, ‘sharing in common’. This word, communion, speaks to the deep loneliness and longing for fellowship settled in the souls of so many of us, waking faint stirrings of…hope, maybe? There are so many periods of isolation and sequestration in this busy, noisy life---many of them in the midst of the noise and busy-ness of everyday life. So many days which stretch from end to end with no real human interaction breaking through workaday, rote communication, or days of solitary pursuits.

Into this lonesome landscape shines the chance to gather at the table of our Brother Jesus, eating and drinking of love and sacrifice, telling each other the stories that bind us to Christ and to each other. The table draws us---not strangers but family, not hurried and harried but grateful and blessing, not fearful of rejection but cherished and welcoming. This table calls us empty, and we feed each other. This table draws us, and sends us. This table makes of us beloved, and loving.

Oh, taste and see…

...come to the table

When we are walking, doubtful and dreading, 
blinded by sadness, slowness of heart,

yet Christ walks with us ever awaiting our invitation: 

stay, do not part.

---Susan Palo Cherwien, 1996

This lovely modern hymn, by contemporary poet Susan Palo Cherwien, is a meditation on the story usually called ‘The Road to Emmaus’. I kind of think it should be called ‘The House at the End of the Road to Emmaus’. Because friends, all the real fabulous-ness, all the wonder, all the eye-opening connection happened at the kitchen table in a little house at 223 Emmaus Way right about supper time. The travelers walked with the mysterious stranger all day, discussing current events and even Bible knowledge; but it wasn’t until pulling up chairs around a table laden with a thrown-together, just-got-home-from-vacation, raid-the-fridge-for-leftovers, broke-down feast that bridges began to be built between hearts.

Now, some of you who follow me on Instagram or Facebook know that I kinda like food (ok, I love it), and I especially love being able to share something lovely with other folks. I have two hashtags that I commonly use when posting about food: #cometothetable and #alwaysroomforonemore. These spell out my personal kitchen ethos. Good, good things happen around the table, when we drop our guard to pick up forks and mugs. Spending unhurried time together sharing a common meal lends itself to sharing our inner selves. Sometimes, just sometimes, our private fears and hopes and dreams become common bonds. And around this kind of table, friends, there is always room for one more. The welcome is warm, and the provision is plenty.

Around the table in the house at the end of the road to Emmaus, lingering over a last mug of chai and the heel of a loaf, their eyes were opened, and the travelers recognized Jesus.

Come to the table. Linger. With your eyes and heart open, you never know who you may see.

...Monday's coming

Soar we now where Christ has led, following our exalted Head;

Made like Him, like Him we rise; ours the cross, the grave, the skies.

Alleluia!

---Charles Wesley, 1739

Here we are at Easter, the simplest day of the year to follow Jesus! Soaring where Christ has led, rising like him…feels pretty wonderful, right? And we need a day like Easter, because the rest of the year is sure to follow. There was a popular poster when I was younger (Kids, we used to unroll these big paper pictures with groovy sayings on them and hang them on our bedroom walls! They were like the memes of a bygone generation!) that featured a cross dramatically backlit, with the text, “It’s Friday…but Sunday’s coming!” Well, I need a poster (but I’d just as soon have a good meme) that says It’s Sunday! …but Monday’s coming. #wompwomp.” We live in a Monday world, friends, where the cross and grave, and busyness and inattention, and a hundred tiny everyday cruelties are always with us. We need a little Easter every now and then. We are promised that if we follow Christ by owning the cross, and the grave, that we will also own the skies with him.

Made like You, to follow You, we turn with expectation toward a future that includes the cross, the grave…and the skies. Alleluia!

...the lips of children

All glory, laud, and honor to Thee, Redeemer, King,

To whom the lips of children made sweet hosannas ring.

Thou didst accept their praises --- accept the praise we bring,

Who in all good delightest, Thou good and gracious King!

---Theodulph of Orleans, ca. 821

Count on a kid to tell it like it is. Maybe this is the reason for the old adage, “Children should be seen and not heard.” Over the course of our lives we develop the ability to filter our thoughts before they become words. We become polite, refined, and maybe just a wee bit fake. We also sometimes lose the child’s ability to see things as they are, without expectation or preconception. We accept nothing at face value, examining each comment and appearance for inflection, shading, nuance. Kids? They see it like it is, and say it like it is.

In today’s text, hosannas stream from the lips of children. They were onto Jesus, and seemed attracted to him without reservation. They saw what they saw, and liked it, and joyously praised Jesus. May we today be like children…no filters, no prejudices, no reservations about praising our redeemer, Jesus Christ.

Let at least one of those hosannas be mine, Lord.

...how love sounds

Lord, your church on earth is seeking your renewal from above;

teach us all the art of speaking with the accent of your love.

We would heed your great commission: “Go now into every place;

preach, baptize, fulfill my mission, serve with love and share my grace.”

---Hugh Sherlock, 1960

I am always interested in the decision of television directors and producers---mainly of news, documentary, and reality programming---to decide to use subtitles to “translate” the speech of characters or interview subjects with broken English or thick accents. I am continually amazed (and amused) by the great diversity of ways that we speak “American English”---cultural, regional, and even generational differences. Yes, generational---I sometimes think folk of a certain age might need subtitles to understand the everyday slang of teens and twenty-somethings! One of the most humorous choices, to a (mostly) southerner like me, is subtitles applied to a thick southern accent---how could anyone have trouble understanding that?!

I think what fascinates me is accent. People who specialize in training actors can sometimes isolate and identify accents not just by country or region, but by city, or even borough or neighborhood in the case of New York City. They can train actors to speak with the accent of a certain location, a certain people group, a certain era.

Imagine with me what the sound might be of all of us speaking with love’s accent. What would our voices sound like? What words would fill our vocabularies? What tone, what timbre would govern our speech? How does love sound, translated into everyday language? Would the world recognize love’s accent on our tongues?

Would we need subtitles to translate love?

...the time that I've taken

A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone;

Short as the watch that ends the night before the rising sun.

---Isaac Watts, 1719

Time is such a strange concept. Each day has twenty-four hours in it; some seem to fly by and we leave things undone, while others crawl, second by second. And I’ve known people that I would wager had more hours in the day than I do --- they fit so much more in! And does time take forever when we are waiting on something? Daylight saving time? Don’t get me started! It’s been over a week, and I’m still mad about the hour that disappeared into thin air from my overnight one Saturday night!

This is not a new puzzle; the Israelites were always wondering when God would act, and tiring of waiting for things to happen. In this 300-year-old text, Isaac Watts reminds us that our time and God’s time are different. We may find it easier to wait when we remember that God’s reality runs on a different clock than ours.

...even our scars are lovely

In heavenly love abiding, no change my heart shall fear;

and safe is such confiding, for nothing changes here:

the storm may roar about me; my heart may low be laid;

but God is all around me, and can I be dismayed?

---Anna L. Waring, 1850

In their song 'Breakeven', The Script sing, 'I'm fallin' to pieces, 'cause when a heart breaks, no it don't break even.' And if I'm honest, I could raise a glass and sing along extra loud with that chorus...how about you? Experience crushes, the storm roars, my heart is 'laid low'. And I would swear I am falling apart.

And here's the thing: it's all true. When we choose to engage this broken world in love, heart in hand, otherwise unarmed...it. will. break. us. We cannot engage brokenness, I don't think, and remain whole, unchanged. The world will break us and, even when we heal, we will bear the scars of our wounds as reminders, and the sites of the breaks will ache on days when the cold and damp push against us like a late winter storm.

But, friends, hear the good news. In our brokenness, bearing the scars of love, we grow more and more to resemble our broken Brother, Jesus, who by his own choice entered the flow of everyday brokenness, and wears the scars of engaging wounded and wounding humanity in love and tender compassion. By his great love this God walks with us on our broken way, transforming our dismay into devotion, offering us the chance to see that even our scars are lovely.

...a resting place

My faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed;

I trust the Ever-living One, his wounds for me shall plead.

I need no other argument, I need no other plea,

It is enough that Jesus died, and that he died for me.

---Lidie Edmunds, c. 1890

We’ve all heard the stories of the minutiae that divide Christians from time to time. The color of the pew cushions in the new sanctuary…blue like the river of life, or red like the blood of sacrifice? The organ…loud or soft? Bongos and guitars in the Sunday morning worship or high church and opera voices? Whether to sing all four verses of every hymn, or save time with a quick pass by first and last? King James or NRSV?

This hymn reminds me every time that letting the small things get in the way of the one true thing --- Christ’s sacrifice to reconcile us to God --- keeps us far from each other, and from our spiritual center. Our faith rests not in creed, argument, or the thousand little things good people sometimes disagree about. Our faith rests in the good news, the gospel, that Christ died, and lived, for you…and me. Here is our resting place. Here is our center.

...to not need you

Sister, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

Brother, let me be your servant, let me be as Christ to you;

pray that I may have the grace to let you be my servant, too.

---Richard Gillard, 1974

Lord, make me useful. How can I help? What can I do for you?

How quick we are as a people to offer, and (generally) follow through with, help, assistance, and support to those around us in need. And that is awesome. And while we may argue with Joey Tribbiani of Friends fame over whether there is any truly selfless good deed (“Look, there’s no unselfish good deeds, sorry.”), most of us would agree that serving others makes the world a kinder, gentler place. We are quick to offer to friends, family, and even strangers the hand of help, as Charlie Puth sings in his well-known song:

            I’m only one call away, I’ll be there to save the day,

            Superman got nothing on me, I’m only one call away.

What I am not as good at, and I bet the same could be said for you, is allowing someone the gift of being servant to me in my need. I would do nearly anything to not need you. And that, friends, is a crying shame. Because when I keep you from serving me in my need (and it is there, let’s not kid each other) I don’t just rob myself of the aid and comfort you are glad to offer me as your sister. I also fail to exercise the grace of allowing you to be a servant, to participate in your own transformation into the likeness of Christ. All because I would swear with my last breath that I’m just fine.

Let us be each other’s servants. And let us allow others the holy privilege of serving us. This grace…it’s a mutual dance, never meant as a solo.

...a God who stands in contrast

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God almighty!

Early in the morning our song shall rise to Thee.

Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty!

God in three Persons, blessed Trinity!

---Reginald Heber, 1826

I will admit it. I have always been a bit put off by descriptions of God as powerful. It seems in this world that being powerful is an invitation to mistreat or take advantage of the weak and poor. For every “good King Wenceslas”, there are hundreds of “Ivan the Terribles”. Power seems so intoxicating, and so easy to abuse. So my vision of a powerful, almighty God is colored by the lens of the world in which I live, and the one I read about in history books. Reginald Heber, in the mid-1800’s, caught the essence of God’s power with one short phrase: “merciful and mighty.”

In a world where might is often used to man-handle and menace, and strength to strong-arm and subdue, we the faithful shine a light on a God who stands in contrast to those faulty human ideals. We worship a God who is strong and tender, who is limitless and approachable, who is Law and Love.

Merciful and mighty, God, we worship you.

...on singing all the verses

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;

Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;

his craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,

on earth is not his equal.

---Martin Luther, c. 1529

In some churches, when time in the service runs short, hymns may be abbreviated by leaving out verses (personally, I think each verse has its own message for me, and I love singing them all!). With most hymns you lose some of the wisdom using this approach, but the general message remains understandable. Today’s hymn is a stark exception. Sing only the first verse of this hymn, and the world is left in the hands of evil, with no valiant hero to fend off our “ancient foe”. What a state we’re left in at the end of the first verse of this 500-year-old hymn!

But in hymns as in life, an old saying comes to mind. It goes like this: “Everything works out in the end. If things haven’t worked out, it’s not the end!” With our human shortsightedness, we grow impatient for things to work out, for problems to be solved, for worries to be calmed, for questions to be answered, for right to prevail. Because our sight is limited to vision, we tremble at the unseen unresolved. Because our sense of time is limited to what we can measure, we cower at the prospect of a boundless future. Remembering that God’s time is not often our time, let us actively await the final stanza…

“God’s kingdom is forever.”

...I confess. And I believe.

God, let us be a bridge of care connecting people everywhere.

Help us confront all fear and hate and lust for power that separate.

When chasms widen, storms arise, O Holy Spirit, make us wise.

Let our resolve, like steel, be strong to stand with those who suffer wrong.

---Ruth Duck, 1991

I confess today. I have been small, and I have limited my idea of God to smallness. I have hated those who were other, and feared those I hated…or did it work the other way around? I don’t want power in my own hands, that is too heavy a thing; I just want things to work the right way, my way. I confess this yearning for a finger in the pot.

My God, I pray for the things that separate me from serving and standing resolutely with those who suffer to yield to wisdom from you. I pray for the fears and doubts that keep me shackled when I should be about kingdom business to yield to the floods of your hope and healing love.

And I believe. I believe that at your table, transformation is an everyday miracle, and grace is served at every meal. We may come to the table as strangers, lonely and weak and worn, but we leave as friends, strengthened for the challenges of building family and standing with each other.

I confess. And I believe.

...you wouldn't believe what's up there!

God of Creation, all-powerful, all wise,

Lord of the universe rich with surprise,

Maker, Sustainer, and Ruler of all,

we are your children --- You hear when we call.

---Margaret Clarkson, 1987

Back when I was young and could sleep on the ground, I often spent a weekend camping with friends in the mountains of north Georgia, enjoying scenes of rugged beauty around every bend and over every hill. Being carefree (I did mention that we were young, didn’t I?), we often knew only the general area we wanted to explore, and this led to lots of wondering. I don’t mean ‘wandering’; I mean ‘wondering’, as in, “I wonder where we are now?” One particular weekend we were more aimless than usual, and had gotten onto a one-and-a-half-lane road, headed almost straight up into the sky (no easy feat for a baby-blue Monte Carlo!). At a bend in the road, we met an oncoming van, and inched over as far as we dared to let it pass. As it did, the driver waved and greeted us; we asked what was up ahead. Now, what we meant was, “Is there a camping spot up ahead?” But he had a bigger answer in mind. “Man,” he said earnestly, “you wouldn’t believe what’s up there! There’s trees, and mountains, and grass…”

That dude up on the mountain saw the world with a sense of wonder, with a delight I am usually too jaded to enjoy. In today’s hymn, Margaret Clarkson names the God of a creation ‘rich with surprise.’ As I meditate on the concept of a universe created teeming with delight and overflowing with mind-blowing creativity, I think of eclipses, lightning storms, giraffes…and grace.

You wouldn’t believe what’s up there!

...little things

The church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord;

She is his new creation, by water and the Word:

From heaven he came and sought her to be his holy bride,

With his own blood he bought her, and for her life he died.

---Samuel J. Stone, 1866

I’ve heard the stories, and you probably have, too. Churches that split over what color the new carpet will be, or whether to sing the Amen at the end of hymns, or whether to play drums in the sanctuary. And I am sure that, in the midst of the discussions, each of these issues seemed important to their adherents. We could make a list of bigger, more theologically-based issues that divide Christianity into denominations, factions, sects, and even warring camps. Emotional issues, and closely-held; the sort that draw tears and raise voices and blood pressure.

I always come back to this hymn’s first line. Jesus is the one foundation of the Church. Jesus --- his teachings, his life, his example, his leading --- is the strong base on which we build all that our community of faith is. The little things are just that…little things. And while there is a place in life for the little things, let us never forget the one foundation, the big thing that holds us all up. Let us remember Jesus, our foundation.

...just details

My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

On Christ the solid Rock I stand; all other ground is sinking sand.

---Edward Mote, 1834

We pin our hopes on many things --- the stock market, savings, a spouse or parent, hard work, luck, the list goes on. As Christians we may put our hope in a minister or ministry, a local church, or a denomination. We may even hope in a particular interpretation of scripture, or a certain way of reading the Bible.

This hymn reminds me that there is one rock solid enough for the construction of my hopes, and that is no human institution, religious or secular. That rock is the person of Jesus---his life, sacrifice, and triumph over the powers that were in the world.

Everything else is just details. Sinking sand. Christ is the solid Rock.

...bound like that

O to grace how great a debtor daily I’m constrained to be!

Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to Thee:

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, prone to leave the God I love;

Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it; seal it for Thy courts above.

---Robert Robinson, 1758

It might be easy to see this verse as a guilt trip. What kind of lousy follower am I? Prone to wander, in debt to grace, I need a fetter --- a chain --- to bind me to God. Ouch. Then I remember that this hymn, as so much of life, is not about me. This hymn explores not human nature, frail and failing though it be. This text is all about the nature of God, a God who loves us enough to pursue us, to bind us to Godself with chains --- chains made not of might or threat, or violence, but of goodness. And in my inmost heart, I long to be held close to the heart of God, with fetters that tender. I am a debtor. For God’s unfailing mercy, I owe a debt I will never repay. Through God’s grace, freely given, I owe nothing.

Because of the weightlessness of my bonds, I will serve always out of love and gratitude. I’m bound like that.

...straw against the chill

...and in the frozen stillness, a mighty voice is heard:
God is here among you, human is the Word. 
---Bob Franke 

Emmanuel. #godwithus #usforeachother

...to welcome Love

People, look east, the time is near for the crowning of the year.

Make your house fair as you are able,

trim the hearth and set the table.

People, look east, and sing today:

Love, the Guest, is on the way.

---Eleanor Farjeon, 1928

I know about some of the Christmas decorations out there. I've driven around. And I've cruised around FB too, and Buzzfeed. I've seen Santas, and snowmen, and Nativity scenes (sometimes all in one yard). I've seen white lights, multi-colored lights, twinkle lights, chaser lights, net lights, all orange and blue lights (here in Auburn Tiger territory, not an uncommon sight).

I've seen tasteful and tacky, with a few stops in-between.

There is something in us, a good number of us anyway, that pokes and prods at us to pull out a Christmas sweater (or ten) for our house this time of year. Is it because we're happy? to make us happy? to convince other people we're happy? a bit of a combination of everything I've thought of, and more?

In this lovely poem from Eleanor Farjeon, we are reminded that we are preparing for the arrival of a special Guest, with all the 'trimming' that might bring. When we invite Love in to stay, what kind of decorating might we do to our hearts? How would we set the table of our lives to welcome Love? What would we do to prepare a place for this most important Guest?

People, look east. The time is near…

...it's independence day!

Come, thou long-expected Jesus, born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us; let us find our rest in Thee.

Born thy people to deliver, born a child and yet a King,

Born to reign in us forever, now Thy gracious kingdom bring.

---Charles Wesley, 1744

Advent is all about…well, you know…hope, peace, joy, and love, right? This hymn says Advent is all about…freedom…deliverance…a kingdom of grace. A topsy-turvy kingdom ruled by a child-king, reigning not over us, but in us. Free from what, we may wonder? We are living in the USA, as free as any people in the world. But there are bars that imprison us in a narrow world of small expectations and low risks. We are prisoner to our fears and sins, allowing them to hold us back from full participation in Christ’s kingdom of grace. In so many ways, we are far from free.

But the reign of the Christ Child? All about the freedom, my friends. In this kingdom, we are beckoned, day by day, to venture beyond the limits we set for ourselves and each other. In this kingdom there is no place for our small-minded fears and doubts.

Talk about your revolution….it’s independence day!

...the mystery of coming to us

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel shall come to thee,

O Israel!

---Latin hymn

Breathless from the bustle of autumn, we arrive at the first Sunday of Advent. Here in a football town, it seems we rush straight through football season headlong into the string of holidays that stretch from Thanksgiving through New Year’s. If we observe it, the season of Advent can give us a chance to take a breath, focus on the meaning of Christ’s birth, prepare our hearts for a sea change.

Abby and Sarah have always felt that this hymn, from the 12^th century, is the only appropriate way to usher in the season. I think that its words delineate, in mysterious yet earthy fashion,  the difference between Christianity and religion. First there is the name given for this coming Savior --- Emmanuel, “God with us”. Not God up there, or God on a throne, or God with a big naughty or nice list and a long memory. God…with…us. Then there is the rest of the short refrain: “Emmanuel shall come to thee”. Jesus is the God who comes to us. No more beseeching the heavens, stumbling around in the dark, crying out and hearing only the echo of our prayers.

God with us, come to us. Mystery, bound to earth. Rejoice!

Gifter, Maker (goodliness and gratitude)

The last couple of weeks, I have been thinking a lot about the varied and manifold ways God draws near to us and interacts with our lives. And in the drawing near, and in the relating in love, God is the giver of the good gift of our days here, spent in fellowship with God and with each other. And in the drawing near, and in the relating in love, God is the maker of ways where we cannot see a way, promising us that the path we walk we will never walk alone.

And these realizations formed in me a groundswell of gratitude---gratitude for a God with a sweeping view of history and a long view of the unfolding events of my life, and gratitude for a God with an interest in the day-to-day ordinariness of what feels oftentimes so monumental to me. Gratitude for a God meeting me where I am and dreaming me into something I can't even imagine for my life. Gratitude for a God spending enough time with me to allow a little goodliness to rub off.

And from that gratitude sprung this song. Hope it can speak for you today, too.

Gifter, Maker (a brand-new baby thanksgiving song)

Gifter, Maker

You birth us, you bear us

You craft us, you carry us

You mourn with us, you merry us

Gifter of days.

Befriend us and bend us

You soothe us and send us

Embolden and mend us

Maker of ways.

Thanks be to God up above

Creator of all that is good in us

Giver of love.

Thanks be to God with us now

Walking beside us to cheer and to guide us

For all of the days life allows.

Thanks be to God with us now.

----LACA, Nov'16

...thanking with our hands

Now thank we all our God with heart and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things hath done, in whom this world rejoices;

Who, from our mother’s arms, hath blessed us on our way

With countless gifts of love, and still is ours today.
---Martin Rinkart, 1636

I wish that I had written the first line of this hymn (well, I might have tweaked the grammar a little, but otherwise…). We are used to, even weary of, talking about giving thanks. We have a holiday reserved for it (well, named for it…the holiday is reserved more and more for eating and Christmas shopping). We debate whether we teach our children well enough to say thank you as they grow up, and whether we continue that courtesy as adults. We spend our table graces and parts of our corporate and private prayers for thanksgiving for our blessings. This is not a novel thought.

The genius part? Thanking God with our hands. Now I get the thanking with our voices, and with our hearts, but with our hands? I like this way of thinking about thanking. What form would thanking with your hands take? Would you “pay it forward”? Would you practice random acts of kindness? Would you give more than you thought you could? Would you find yourself going above and beyond, if you thanked with you heart, your hand, your voice?

...go around the circle

For the harvests of the Spirit, thanks be to God.

For the good we all inherit, thanks be to God.

For the wonders that astound us, for the truths that still confound us,

most of all, that love has found us, thanks be to God.

---Fred Pratt Green, 1970

I know you’ve done it, and I know it has made you squirm, sigh, or roll your eyes (depending on your generation). Go around the circle --- the grownups’ table AND the kids’ table at your family Thanksgiving, the fellowship tables at church supper in November, the class seating arrangement in Sunday School --- and tell one thing you’re thankful for. Is there any exercise guaranteed to bring out the trite and repetitive in all of us? And yet, is there any chance most of us would stop to express gratitude for the richness of this life without going around the circle?

This hymn is a list of rich joys of the abundant life for which we can all be thankful; the list includes thanks for things I never thought of as rich until Fred Pratt Green brought them to my attention between the covers of our hymnal. No matter how world-wise and jaded we get, wonders still astound us, and (thank God) some truths still confound us. And best of all, love has found us.

There’s a place for us in the circle. Go around…thanks be to God.

...the praise of all things

All creatures of our God and King, lift up your voice and with us sing

Alleluia!

Let all things their Creator bless, and worship him in humbleness,

Alleluia!

---Francis of Assisi, 1225

The text of this ancient hymn is attributed to St. Francis of Assisi, and dates from around the year 1225. Let’s just think for a minute about a tradition that still values the wisdom that can be gleaned from the riches of the past. Thank you, Church, for preserving these hymns for us and our children.

Now, on to the poetry and genius of the text. St. Francis couldn’t actually cover “all things”, but he covered all the bases he could with contrast. Listen to some of the contrasts from this lover of all things natural: burning sun and sliver moon, rushing wind and sailing clouds, rising morn and evening lights, flowing water and masterful fire. Can you imagine a concert of voices made up of all these natural elements, praising the One who’d imagined them? It would be pretty spectacular, I’ll bet!

And yet, Francis doesn’t leave out the human element of nature’s praise, and reminds us that our voices are needed to make the song complete. Hearts, both tender with forgiveness and heavy with pain and sorrow, are called to praise God, and to cast all care on the One who cares for us.

Let all things their Creator bless…Alleluia!

...let's be adventurers!

Excite our minds to follow you, to trace new truths in store,

new flight paths for our spirit space, new marvels to explore.

Engage our wits to dance with you, to leap from logic’s base,

to capture insight on the wing, to sense your cosmic grace.

---Shirley Erena Murray, 1990

Frank Sinatra, or if you preferred your jazz a little more complex Billie Holliday, sang “All of me, why not take all of me?” As Christians, we are used to thinking in terms of offering ‘all’ of ourselves to God---our hearts, our energies, our talents, our financial resources, even our time. One thing many of us don’t think of using in the service of God, sadly, is our minds, especially our imaginations.

What does it mean to engage our sense of discovery and imagination in the service of God? What kind of certainties must we let go of to follow our creative God in the exercise of holy imagination? How might our world change if we leapt unafraid, partnered with God, into the discovery of new insights, deeper understandings of ancient spiritual truths, new sacred heartspace?

Dare we be adventurers together, as we bring the ‘all’ of all of us in offering to the God who has always brought all of Godself to us as joyful gift?

...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 or 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.

...we rise

Then hear, O gracious Savior, accept the love we bring,

that we who know Your favor may serve You as our King;

and whether our tomorrows be filled with good or ill,

we’ll triumph through our sorrows and rise to bless You still;

to marvel at Your beauty and glory in Your ways,

and make a joyful duty our sacrifice of praise.

---Michael Perry, 1982

When something wonderful happens in my life, Thank you, Lord. When I see a beautiful sunset, or watch clouds heavy with rain gathering on the horizon, Thank God. When things go right at work or with family or friends, Thank you, God. When medical tests come back and the results are better than anyone could have led you to believe or hope, Thank you, Jesus!

Thanksgiving flows from gratitude for the good we sense in us and around us. It can be a powerful emotion, and gratitude can be a transformative force in lives and communities.

This hymn text is speaking of something other, though---something that is not a response to a blessing or sensed ‘gift moment’. This other might be called blessing, awe, marvel, or praise. This offering up of our souls, ourselves, to the very center of God’s Being. Essence offered up to Essence. Joyfully offering our souls as gift and sacrifice to our Soul-Creator.

And so, independent of our circumstances, we bless God. We rise.

...from overflowing love

Because I have been given much I too must give;

Because of thy great bounty, Lord, each day I live

I will give love to those in need, shall show that love by word and deed;

Thus shall my thanks be thanks, indeed.

---Grace Noll Crowell, 1936

The fact that you can prove anything with scripture notwithstanding, I think “prosperity” theology has it all backwards. You have heard this theology preached somewhere, sometime, and it is pretty attractive. If you give, God gives to you in multiples of what you’ve given. If you want to be rich, give away lots of money, then start raking in the returns.

I think this hymn text has it right. We don’t give to get…we give because we have. We take care of others because we’ve been provided for. We change the situations of others because God’s love has changed our situations. We give not to build up for ourselves, but because we have storehouses of the richness of life already.

When we give from the overflowing love of God in our lives, our thanks are enlivened in a way that prosperity could never do.