Lenten Song of the Week

Hallelujah! What a Savior!“Man of Sorrows!”—what a name
For the Son of God who came
Ruined sinners to reclaim!
Hallelujah! what a Savior!

Bearing shame and scoffing rude,
In my place condemned He stood,
Sealed my pardon with His blood;
Hallelujah! what a Savior!

Guilty, vile, and helpless we,
Spotless Lamb of God was He;
Full atonement!—can it be?
Hallelujah! what a Savior!

Lifted up was He to die,
“It is finished!” was His cry;
Now in heaven exalted high,
Hallelujah! what a Savior!

When He comes, our glorious King,
All His ransomed home to bring,
Then anew this song we’ll sing:
Hallelujah! what a Savior! Words and music: Philip P. Bliss
HALLELUJAH! WHAT A SAVIOR, 7.7.7.8

Lenten Song of the Week

Last year during Lent, I posted Isaac Watts’ greatest hymn, “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross”; this year, I think I’ll start off Lent with another of his great ones (minus the frankly execrable Ralph Hudson chorus).

Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed?Alas! and did my Savior bleed
And did my Sov’reign die?
Would He devote that sacred head
For sinners such as I?

Was it for sins that I have done
He suffered on the tree?
Amazing pity! grace unknown!
And love beyond degree!

Well might the sun in darkness hide
And shut his glories in,
When Christ, the great Redeemer, died
For man the creature’s sin.

But drops of grief can ne’er repay
The debt of love I owe;
Here, Lord, I give myself away—
‘Tis all that I can do. Words: Isaac Watts
Music: Hugh Wilson
MARTYRDOM, CM

God’s Own Fool

OK, so this one is Erin’s fault; I got along exploring her blog after her response (which I very much appreciated) to the meme I started, and ran across her post on foolishness and God. Apparently it’s part of a synchroblog that she and some other folks have going; but while I might not resonate with this in the same way as they do, this is something with which I resonate powerfully nonetheless. It begins with Jesus, God’s designated Fool; and it ends with us, his designated fools. I’ll talk about that tomorrow. For now, I want to let Michael Card do the talking, because I’ve always loved this song.
God’s Own Fool

It seems I’ve imagined Him all of my life
As the wisest of all of mankind;
But if God’s holy wisdom is foolish to men,
He must have seemed out of His mind.
For even His family said He was mad,
And the priests said, “A demon’s to blame”;
But God in the form of this angry young man
Could not have seemed perfectly sane.

When we in our foolishness thought we were wise,
He played the fool and He opened our eyes;
When we in our weakness believed we were strong,
He became helpless to show we were wrong.
And so we follow God’s own fool,
For only the foolish can tell;
Believe the unbelievable—
Come, be a fool as well.

So come lose your life for a carpenter’s son,
For a madman who died for a dream,
And you’ll have the faith His first followers had,
And you’ll feel the weight of the beam.
So surrender the hunger to say you must know,
Have the courage to say, “I believe,”
For the power of paradox opens your eyes
And blinds those who say they can see.

ChorusWords and music: Michael Card
© 1985 Mole End Music
From the album
Scandalon, by Michael Card

More tomorrow.

Anniversary of a miracle

Today marks the 67th anniversary of a miracle—one which Michael Linton, writing in First Things some time ago, suggested is “the greatest artistic miracle of our times.” On January 15, 1941, in the Nazi POW camp Stalag VIII-A at Görlitz in Silesia, the great French Catholic composer Olivier Messiaen, a prisoner in the camp, premiered his Quatuor pour la fin du temps (“Quartet for the end of time”). Messiaen, who had been given time, space, and resources by the camp commandant to enable him to write, composed the quartet for himself (on piano) and three other musicians among the prisoners, a violinist, a cellist, and a clarinetist.

What makes the work miraculous is not only the place and time in which it was written, but its character. As Linton writes:

In the midst of chaos, Messiaen wrote about the apocalypse in a completely “unapocalyptic” manner. In the previous century, the sequence from the Requiem Mass had given composers the opportunity to unleash all the thunder they could muster to depict the horrific details of God’s day of accounting. Berlioz and Verdi had both written depictions that chill—or more honestly perhaps, thrill—us to this day. And not too long after Messiaen’s quartet was completed, Schoenberg, Shostakovich, Britten, and Penderecki would write pieces expressive of the horrors of the Nazis and their war, music full of screams, howls, and cries for righteous justice against the oppressor.

But Messiaen has no place for such neo-pagan hysterics. In the middle of a prison camp, a prisoner unsure if he would ever again see his family or home again, Messiaen composed a vision of heaven where anger, violence, vengeance, and despair are not so much repressed as irrelevant. This work has nothing to do with war, or prison, or “man’s inhumanity to man.” This piece is entirely about the work of God and the glory of Jesus. There is no darkness here. There is no bitterness. There is no rage. Instead there is power, light, transcendence, ecstasy, and joy eternal.

Messiaen’s music isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, by any means—it’s modern music, for one thing, and then it’s modern in a different way from most of the music of this past century; but this is a beautiful and powerful piece that deserves to be appreciated. I’m not going to put all of it up (it’s a fairly long composition, in eight movements), but here’s a taste or two. This is a video of the first movement, “Liturgie de cristal”:

Here’s the fourth movement, “Intermède”:

And the fifth, “Louange à l’Éternité de Jésus”:

It’s great music, even if it isn’t to everyone’s taste; but just as much, and something we can all appreciate, it’s a powerful testimony to the way in which the love and the grace of God can overcome human evil.

Thank God for God (a Thanksgiving meditation)

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return there;
the LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.”
—Job 1:21
During the time of Napoleon’s reign in France, there was a political prisoner by the name of Charnet. That is to say, there was a man named Charnet who had unintentionally offended the emperor by some remark or another and been thrown in prison to rot. As time passed, Charnet became bitter and lost faith in God, finally scratching on the wall of his cell, “All things come by chance.”

But there was a little space for sunlight to enter his cell, and for a little while each day a sunbeam cast a small pool of light on the floor; and one morning, to his amazement, in that small patch of ground he saw a tiny green blade poking out of the packed dirt floor, fighting its way into that precious sunlight. Suddenly, he had a companion, even if only a plant, and his heart lifted; he shared his tiny water ration with the little plant and did everything he could to encourage it to grow. Under his devoted care, it did grow, until one day it put out a beautiful little purple-and-white flower. Once again, Charnet found himself thinking about God, but thinking very different thoughts; he scratched out his previous words and wrote instead, “He who made all things is God.”

The guards saw what was happening; they talked about it amongst themselves, they told their wives, and the story spread, until finally somehow it came to the ears of the Empress Josephine. The story moved her, and she became so convinced that no man who loved a flower in this way could be dangerous that she appealed to Napoleon, and persuaded her husband to relent and set Charnet free. When he left his cell, he took the little flower with him in a little flowerpot, and on the pot he wrote Matthew 6:30: “If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, how much more will he clothe you, O you of little faith?”

There’s a lesson in Charnet’s story—the lesson of Job, I think. I struggled for years to make sense of that verse, until I found the key in an observation made by Rev. Wayne Brouwer, a Christian Reformed pastor in Holland, Michigan. Rev. Brouwer, writing on Psalm 22, muses, “Maybe it’s not that believers are grateful to God but that those who are grateful to God are the ones who truly believe him. Only those of us who are truly thankful are able to ride out the storms of life which might otherwise destroy us. Only those who have an attitude of gratitude know what it means to believe.” In other words, the root of our faith is gratitude.

We talk about the patience of Job, but in reality Job showed very little patience; what he did show was great faith, and that faith was firmly rooted in his determination to remain grateful for all the Lord had given him despite his losses. Thus he can say here, “The Lord gave, the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord”; thus he can affirm at another point, “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth . . . in my flesh I shall see God.” In the same way, once Charnet found something for which to be thankful, that little plant struggling through the hard, dry earth, he found Someone to thank, and his faith grew back along with that little plant. Before that point, faith was impossible for him, because there was no root to sustain it.

If our gratitude depends on the number of our gifts exceeding a certain critical mass, if we miss the Giver for the gifts, then we have a shallow faith indeed. The example of Job calls us to a deeper gratitude, and a deeper faith, a faith that is able to see God and give thanks even when things aren’t going well. This is the faith the poet Joyce Kilmer expressed when he wrote, “Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife . . ./Thank God for the stress and the pain of life./And, oh, thank God for God.” That’s really the bottom line, isn’t it? Thank God for God. Thank God, as Psalm 23 does, that even when we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, he is there with us. Thank God, as Psalm 22 does, that he has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted. Thank God, as Job teaches us, that we don’t have to bury our grief and anger, but can bring them to God honestly; for Job challenges God fiercely, but his challenge is rooted in his faith, and so at the end God says of him, “He is my servant, and he has spoken of me what is right.” Thank God for God, because that is the root and beginning of faith; to quote Wayne Brouwer again, “Only the grateful believe, and faith itself which seems to soar in times of prosperity needs the strength of thankfulness to carry it through the dark night of the soul.”

One man who well knew the truth of this was Martin Rinkard, a Lutheran who was the only pastor in Eilenberg, Germany in 1637. This was the time of the Thirty Years’ War, and in that year Eilenberg was attacked three different times. When the armies left, they were replaced by desperate refugees. Disease was common, food wasn’t, and Rinkard’s journal tells us that in 1637, he conducted over 4500 funerals, sometimes as many as 50 in a day. Death and chaos ruled, and each day seemed to bring some fresh disaster. But out of that terrible time, Martin Rinker wrote these words:

Now Thank We All Our GodNow 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.O may this bounteous God
Through all our life be near us,
With ever joyful hearts
And blessed peace to cheer us;
And keep us in his grace,
And guide us when perplexed,
And free us from all ills
In this world and the next.All praise and thanks to God
The Father now be given,
The Son, and Him who reigns
With them in highest heaven,
The one eternal God,
Whom earth and heaven adore;
For thus it was, is now,
And shall be evermore.Words: Martin Rinkart; translated by Catherine Winkworth
Music: Johann Crüger
NUN DANKET, 6.7.6.7.6.6.6.6.

Thank God for God. Only the grateful believe.

One other hymn

My wife argued me into posting this—it’s a communion hymn I wrote a while back—thinking that there might be folks out there who’d want to use it. For whatever it might be worth, it is available to use by permission; just send an e-mail to the address in my profile or post a comment here if you happen to be interested. (If you aren’t familiar with the tune to which I’ve set the text, the link is below.)

Jesus Calls Us to His TableJesus calls us to his table,
Here to celebrate the feast;
He invites us to remember
How from sin we were released.
Here he calls us to communion
With each other in his name,
And assures us of the coming
Of the kingdom he proclaimed.

We remember Christ descended
To the human life we share;
We remember how we led him
To the cross and nailed him there.
We remember how he conquered
Death by rising from the grave;
We remember that he did this
All for us he came to save.

So we gather at the table
Joined together hand in hand,
Men and women of all races,
From all times and every land.
We assemble as a body,
Joined in Christ who is our Head,
Knowing he is with us always,
And in him our souls are fed.

Thus we stand in hope of glory,
Of the dawning of the day
When we’ll see God’s kingdom fully,
All his saints, in bright array.
Then we’ll gather at his table,
There invited by his grace,
And in wonder, as he promised,
See our Savior face to face. Words: Robert J. A. Harrison, 2006
Music: Attributed to Benjamin Franklin White; from
The Sacred Harp, 1844
BEACH SPRING, 8.7.8.7.D

Song of the Week

Most people know this hymn, but most of those who know it don’t know it the way John Newton wrote it.

Amazing Grace
Amazing grace! (how sweet the sound)
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see.

‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear,
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares,
I have already come;
‘Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me,
His Word my hope secures;
He will my shield and portion be,
As long as life endures.

Yes, when this flesh and heart shall fail,
And mortal life shall cease,
I shall possess, within the veil,
A life of joy and peace.

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow;
The sun forbear to shine;
But GOD, who called me here below,
Will be forever mine.

Words: John Newton
Music: traditional American melody from Carrell and Clayton’s
Virginia Harmony, 1831
AMAZING GRACE, C.M.

Song of the Week

I remember this song from Sheila Walsh’s heyday back in the ’80s, but I’ve never been able to find a copy of it; I’m glad to have Phil Keaggy’s version, but I don’t like his musical interpretation as well. It may be more fitting, though, as it’s certainly more mournful; and though he didn’t write this, it attests to his eye for a good lyric. He is and always has been a lot more than just a brilliant guitarist, after all. Anyway, I’ve liked this song for a long time—especially in my more cynical moods, or on days when loving the church is hard.

Jesus Loves the Church

You say that you believe in us—at times, I wonder why;
You say you see the Father in our eyes.
But I think if I were you, Lord, I’d wash my hands today,
And turn my back on all our alibis.

Chorus:
For we crucify each other, leaving a battered, wounded bride—
But Jesus loves the church;
So we’ll walk the aisle of history, toward the marriage feast,
For Jesus loves the church.

We fight like selfish children vying for that special prize;
We struggle with our gifts before your face.
And I know you look with sorrow at the blindness in our eyes
As we trip each other halfway through the race.

Chorus

I want to learn to love like you; I don’t know where to start.
I want to see them all but through your eyes.
For you believed enough to live amidst the madding crowd,
Enough to die before our very eyes.

Chorus

And as you hung in naked grief, bleeding for our crimes,
You saw our fickle hearts and cried,
“I love you—you are mine.”

Words: Sheila Walsh; music: Phil Keaggy
© 1989 Word Music/Sebastian Music
From the album
philkeaggy, by Phil Keaggy

Update, 10/23/15:  Here’s Sheila Walsh’s version.  🙂

Musings on worship, illustrated by the Songs of the Week

The last week or so has been really rough; but God is good, and rough weeks end, the sun still shines after the rain, and that’s as worthy a reason to give praise as any.

As I write this, I have “Thinking of You,” a cut from the new/old band Future of Forestry, playing through my computer speakers, and that’s a good reason to give praise, too. I say “new/old band” because this is the same group as the worship band Something Like Silas—they reinvented themselves and went off in a new musical direction, under a new name. Fortunately, from the first listen (I’m now on to “Sanctitatis”), they brought their musical and songwriting gifts with them.

Anyway, if you’ll pardon the right turn—I’ll come back to Something Like Silas in a minute—I’ve been thinking about a conversation I had with a friend of mine a week or two ago about worship. This friend is one of the worship leaders for a big-city megachurch/satellite church/pocket denomination/whatever you want to call it; they seem to be doing great work for the kingdom, but from some of the comments my friend has made, I’m wondering when the folks leading that congregation will hit their Dave Johnson moment. Right now, they seem to be on top of the elephant; but they’re making some decisions that, from the outside (and a considerable distance—no churches that size up here), I wonder about.

For one, I understand they recently issued the dictum that in worship (which is to say, in the singing part of worship), 3/4 of the songs need to be songs addressed to God, not songs about God. Which, OK, I can see the reasoning on this, but (as my friend pointed out), there are a couple of problems here. First, if you’re trying to lead a church across multiple campuses, you need to accept that those are in truth different congregations, different gatherings of people, with different needs, which thus must be led differently. Trying to centralize decision-making in worship planning really isn’t a good idea—there needs to be some degree of freedom for the folks with leadership responsibilities at the individual sites to do what is appropriate and fitting for them, not just what someone halfway across the metro area thinks is a good idea.

And second, songs addressed to God are, logically, songs in the first person; and unfortunately, given the way folks write, they tend to be in the first person singular—”I” songs. Looking at the landscape of what is generally called contemporary worship music, the great majority of “I” songs tend to be focused on me and my experience and what I’m doing for God. As such, the dictum to give most of the time to songs addressed to God will likely tend to produce a shift toward songs that are actually more about me and myself—not about who God is, not about who we are as the body of Christ, but about what I’m doing and feeling. Doing and feeling about God, yes, but . . . well, just think of the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14) if you don’t see what I’m talking about.

That said, this shift is far from inevitable, even if it is the course of least resistance; and here’s where Something Like Silas comes in. I only have their last album, Divine Invitation—as yet, I haven’t picked up any of their indie releases—but while their songs are very personal expressions of worship, mostly “I” songs, they’re also songs which are unquestionably focused on God; some are expressions of praise, while others are heartfelt prayers for God to act. So, since I missed posting a song for last week, I thought I’d post an example of each, two tracks off Divine Invitation.

Words That You SaySpeak in this close communion,
Though this hour seems timeless still,
I wait for your words that bid me come.
Breathe in me, Holy Spirit,
The will when my tomorrow comes
To follow when this song is gone.So I await the words that you say—
I open my life;
I am longing just to hear these words
That you say, that you say.
Shape me with words of wisdom,
Free my torn heart from this world;
Renew my mind and form my will.
Teach me to wholly offer
More than words that I can sing,
So I become the song I bring.ChorusCan I be an instrument of praise
And here pursue your heart,
So my life will tell of who you are?
Can I be a channel of your love,
A reflection of your light,
And live to bring you praise and serve you, Lord?ChorusWords and music: Eric Owyoung
©2004 Birdwing Music
From the album
Divine Invitation, by Something Like Silas

InfiniteLord, a thousand years go by,
Just a moment in your eyes,
‘Cause you alone are far beyond the infinite, O Lord.Lord, all the heavens sing to you,
You’re full of grace and truth,
And you alone are far beyond the infinite . . .So I’ll trust you when I cannot see;
So I’ll trust you when the shadows hover over me
And I’ll love you when the distance leaves me cold.
So I’ll love you . . . I will still believe that you are sovereign, Lord.
Lord, your promises are true,
Your mercies always new,
Your love for us is far beyond the infinite, O Lord.Though I fear I walk alone,
You reach into my soul;
Your love for me is far beyond the infinite . . .ChorusI’m learning to trust,
I’m learning to feel,
I’m learning to love you always . . .ChorusWords and music: Eric Owyoung and Steve Hindalong
©2004 Birdwing Music/New Spring Publishing, Inc./Never Say Never Songs
From the album
Divine Invitation, by Something Like Silas

Hymn for Easter Sunday

–posted on Easter Monday, of course, as I was busy yesterday.

Christ the Lord Is Risen TodayChrist the Lord is risen today, Alleluia!
Sons of men and angels say, Alleluia!
Raise your joys and triumphs high, Alleluia!
Sing ye heavens, and earth reply, Alleluia!Lives again our glorious King, Alleluia!
Where, O death, is now thy sting? Alleluia!
Dying once he all doth save, Alleluia!
Where thy victory, O grave? Alleluia!Love’s redeeming work is done, Alleluia!
Fought the fight, the battle won, Alleluia!
Death in vain forbids Him rise, Alleluia!
Christ has opened Paradise, Alleluia!Soar we now where Christ has led, Alleluia!
Following our exalted Head, Alleluia!
Made like Him, like Him we rise, Alleluia!
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies, Alleluia!Words: Charles Wesley
Music: from
Lyra Davidica, London, 1708
EASTER HYMN, 7.7.7.7. with Alleluias