7 Minute Hymns

My school is a Presbyterian School. By that, I mean that Grove City's statement of faith adheres to the Presbyterian doctrine.  And our Sunday night services follow some of the patterns of Presbyterian services.  One tradition that we follow in particular is with our hymn-singing.  We sing every verse of every hymn, whether there be 4, 7 or 38 verses (okay, no hymn actually has 38 verses, but some of them sure feel like they do).  Sometimes, this tradition irks me.  Why every verse? And why must we play the entire hymn through before we sing the first verse?  Is it against some law of Christianity to sing only 4 of the five verses? If we skip verse 3, will Fanny Crosby or Charles Wesley roll over in their graves?  Do we miss the meaning of the whole hymn if we don’t sing all the verses? I like hymns, don't get me wrong. But every verse, every time? 

Wow. Sorry. I got a little carried away there. And that was not where I was headed, exactly.

Onto my point. I was sitting in Vespers, the Sunday night service on campus (well, standing actually…we always stand to sing) and we were on verse three of six in hymn number 390.  Around this time, I decided that instead of singing this hymn routinely and 'suffering' through the singing of every verse, I'd actually check out the words, and see if I meant what I was saying. 

As I was reading through the lyrics, I was struck by the words of this poem.  It's a prayer. A deep, heartfelt prayer from the poet that she might be entirely and solely Christ-like.  If I prayed these words as I sang them, instead of simply going through the motions of yet another 6-versed hymn, how much more meaningful would my worship become as I truly sought God's face and desired to be in His presence?

This was Kate Wilkinson's prayer:

May the mind of Christ my Savior

Live in me from day to day,

By His love and pow'r controlling

  All I do and say.

*Shouldn't this be what I seek?  That the words, thoughts and prayers of Christ would be my words? That His love would control and lead my actions and behavior?

May the Word of Christ dwell richly

In my heart from hour to hour,

So that all may see I triumph

  Only through His pow'r.

*Ah, that this would be true of me - that the Word of God, the Spoken Truth, would be near to my thoughts each hour, each day - and for a purpose!  That Christ would be glorified through my actions! (Matthew 5:16, "Let your light shine before men that they might see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven.")

May the peace of Christ my Savior

Rule my life in every thing,

That I may be calm to comfort

  Sick and sorrowing.

*Trials are gonna come.  They are. They will be in my life and in the lives of others. May the overwhelming peace of God not only give me confidence and hope in my life, but allow me to have the strength and sight to comfort others.

May the love of Jesus fill me,

As the waters fill the sea;

Him exalting, self abasing,

  This is victory.

*That would be a victory indeed!!  They will know we are Christians by our love - but not 'our' love, but the love of Jesus that spills out of me…a love that I am not capable of on my own.

May I run the race before me,

Strong and brave to face the foe,

Looking only unto Jesus

  As I onward go.

*Faith. This verse is a pleading for faith. Faith in the future grace of Jesus to give me courage and endurance. Faith to look only at Christ and not be distracted by the sin and pleasures of this world. Faith that through the strength of God I will run with excellence the race He has set before me.

May His beauty rest upon me

As I seek the lost to win,

And may they forget the channel,

  Seeing only Him.

*Indeed. May His grace be all they see.May His words be all they hear. May His mercy fill their lives. May they "taste and see that He is good" (Psalm 34:8).

Here's to six-verse hymns that point to the Gospel, speak to our hearts and take up a good seven minutes of the service. May we sing them joyfully, thoughtfully and prayerfully. 

Homeward Bound

Disclaimer: Homeward Bound is one of my least favorite movies. Ever. And it has absolutely NOTHING to do with this post.

Home. 

"I'm going home! Perkasie, PA, here I come!"  The meaning of the word home has grown and expanded and changed in so many ways since I left for college 3 years ago.   Before I came to college, home was almost always one place.  Although I occasionally referred to my church as 'home' because I was there so often, home had always been my house, and more importantly, my family.  Home was laughter, and family time, and stories, and games, and dinnertime, and playing outside, and growing and learning within my family.  This is still home.  Very few things in life beat the feeling of arriving at home, in Perkasie, PA.  Home, where I grew up, where my Mom and Dad are, where I am safe, and protected and happy.

"I'm heading back home…and by home, I mean my dorm room." Over the past 2 and half years,  many times, in casual conversation or without thinking, I will talk about my dorm room, calling it "home".  I will answer, "oh, I'm at home",  meaning on campus.  Here at school, home is where I stay, but it is not necessarily where I belong.  At school, the word home simply means the place where I live.

"This is home."  During the summer, Worldview Academy becomes home, but this past summer, I finally realized why camp felt so much like home.  At camp, home becomes the people.  The staffers, directors, faculty and their families become 'home' to me.  As we live and interact as the Body of Christ, camp becomes more and more like home.  It is a place of sharing, learning, growing, crying, laughing and making memories together.   One of the most fascinating things about camp to me is that I always feel at home, although we spend so much of the time traveling.  Home is no longer a place, it is people.

"Home is where the heart is."  Coming out of camp this past year with that understanding, my heart grew so hungry for Heaven.  Heaven will be fully and completely home.  It is where I am headed, my final destination. Once there, I will not only be a part of the living and functioning body of Christ, but I will be with my Jesus.  I will be fully satisfied. 

Home is not really a set place anymore.  It is instead, the people with whom my heart is tied.  My family, my dear friends, and my Savior.  

"I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now...Come further up, come further in!"  -The Last Battle, CS Lewis

(I know, I already posted this quote once. I couldn't help reposting! It's that good.)

‎"Where we love is home; Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."

-Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr.

"For Everything There is a Season"

I got a taste of Spring this week.  The temperature hit a miraculous 56 degrees on both Thursday and Friday.  It was sunny for two days straight and I can see the grass again. 

There are plenty of pessimists on campus who, during these two glorious days of Spring, walked around making sure that everyone was aware of the fact that these days were just a "teaser" and that it would soon be Winter again, for who knows how long. 

Well, on second thought...seeing as how they were, unfortunately, correct…maybe they're realists.

Either way...I delighted in this small glimpse of what was coming and took every opportunity to soak up the rays of sunshine and revel in the warm wind.

And it made me thankful. 

But I was surprised by what I realized I was thankful for.  Because I wasn't thankful that Spring is coming. (Well, I am, but that wasn't the main reason).  And I wasn't solely thankful that it was beautiful outside and I didn't need a parka to stay comfortable.

I was thankful for Winter.

I was thankful for icy cold days, when you step outside and everything on you that is not covered in three layers immediately freezes. 

I was thankful for piles of snow that simply stick around, get dirty, turn icy…

I was thankful for gray, cloudy skies.

I was thankful for numbing winds and the daily snowfall we receive.

I was thankful for this long, cold season because without it, I would not know Spring. I would not be as thankful (thankful at all?) for green grass, and budding trees.  I wouldn't recognize as well the beauty of the sun, or delight in a clear blue sky.  I would take warm winds for granted, find rain typical and thunderstorms expected. 

I was thankful for the knowledge that seasons come and go, each with defining characteristics, each one unique, and each one teaching me to be grateful for the others.

As I sit at my desk now, the windows are tightly closed and locked. A bitterly cold wind whispers at the panes, trying to get in, succeeding at times and pushing it's way through the warmth of my room.  It's Winter again.  But I am thankful for this day, because I know the day will come when I will fling open the windows and let a warm breeze fill the room.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

"For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to seek, and a time to lose;

a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;

a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace."

I am thankful there is a time for Winter, and a time for Spring. 

I am thankful for my God who created them both. 

Strangers to Me

There are people in my life that drive me crazy. There are people in my life that I have trouble imagining living without.  There are people in my life that are just acquaintances.  I have dear friends that I see every day, and dear friends I only see every once in awhile.  Here at school, I've run into strangers, strange people and strange people who have become friends.  I just found out that in Grove City alone, there are 33,000 people, 2,500 of whom attend Grove City College. 

I don't think about most of these people.  I don't talk to most of the people I walk by every day.  I don't do it to be rude or mean, it's just how things "work" here at school.  There are awkward moments, when the sidewalk suddenly becomes fascinating, so you don't have to try to figure out how to greet the person passing you on the other side of the sidewalk.  There are moments, especially in this wintry weather, when someone I've never met before suddenly slips in front of me.  My thought process goes like this: "Do I help them?  Would they be embarrassed? Do they want me to talk to them or just go around and pretend I didn't notice that they just fell over?  Oh, man. Awkward…"  I usually go with the: "Hey…you okay?"  and I usually get a: "Yeah. I'm fine." in response, as they hurriedly get up and pretend it never happened.  People.  They're everywhere. (I know…mind-blowing revolution, right there!)

I was reading "Crazy Love" this week, (it's changing my life...I'm not kidding) and as I was reading chapter 7, Francis Chan asked a question that I don't think I've ever thought all the way through. He was talking about radical obedience to Jesus and was quoting a passage from Matthew 25:42-45 about the end times when Jesus judges all people. And he asked this:

"How would my life change if I actually thought of each person I came into contact with as Christ?"

In Matthew 25, Christ says this: "I tell you truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me."

As Chan says, 'Ouch'.  There are a lot of things that I haven't done for Christ.  There are a lot of things I have done to Christ that I wish I hadn't. 

Consider this:  Jesus is the one in front of me who falls down - if I knew it was Jesus - would I even stop to wonder whether I should help Him up? 

Or this: Jesus is living in my house and asks if I would help pick up and unload the dishwasher.  If I knew it was Jesus asking, would I complain or have a bad attitude? 

And this: Jesus is the one I purposely ignore while walking down the sidewalk.  If I knew it was Jesus - wouldn't I, at the very least, smile at Him?

It made me wonder.  Am I really different from everybody else?  Is my Christian faith so radically changing my life that I am a servant to all?  That I die to self daily?  That I see Christ in others?  Do I love the 'least of these' the way I say I want to love Christ?  If I weren't a Christian, would my life look any different?

I'm writing Chan's question down and putting it in my ID holder.  I pray that this week, I would begin to serve others the way I want to serve Christ.  I pray that I would "show tangible love for God" in the way that I care for others around me, whether that means my professors, the slow driver in front of me, the annoying kid that sits next to me or the people down the hall of my dorm room. 

"Therefore, be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave Himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Ephesians 5:1-2. 

Winter in Grove City

It snows nearly every day.

That's why the sidewalks are so slippery.

Honest. 

...Because I'm the Clay, Not the Potter

Lost

It's not me.  I'm not the one who hurts.  I'm not the one who slices her palms, or cuts her skin in that secret place, where no one sees.  I'm not the one who cries herself to sleep, if she sleeps at all.  I'm not the one who dares to try to starve herself, I wouldn't have the strength. I have no secrets, no hidden pain, no tragic story.  I carry none of these scars: a broken home, a broken family, a broken life. 

Yet I bear the pain.  I know the secret. I share the shame.  I hold her when she hurts. I beg desperately for the words to say. I listen. Nothing changes. I talk. No one hears. I cry. My heart breaks for the wounds of this precious child.  Created in her Father's image, she sees nothing of the sort when she looks in the mirror. 

I've talked to so many, searching for answers that nobody holds.  Why does He not give her peace?  Why cannot she not give this up?  Why can't I help?  I give and give.  I have nothing left to say, no smile to share and yet somehow, when she comes around, the Lord opens my heart as she opens my door. 

I can't be the one to save her.  I've tried so many times.  I have no fix-it button or magic wand.  I don't even have a simple thought to share.  My strength, my hope is in the Lord.  My words are not my own.  I know He loves her. I know He listens. I know He cares. I can do nothing else but share this love. 

Again. And again. And again.

*I am torn today, by Romans 9.  Torn because of this verse: "For He says to Moses, 'I will have mercy on whom I have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I have compassion.' "  

Such a great truth when I realize that God has had, and does have, mercy on me.  That makes me ecstatic and exuberant and overwhelmed.  But to stand and see those on whom He does not have compassion…it makes me question and wonder, and to be honest, angry.  Why?  Why me and not her?  Why me and not him?  I am no different than they: I, the chief of sinners, have done nothing to warrant His mercy and compassion.  

*But Romans 9 doesn't stop there.  It goes on to say this: "But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patience vessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory— even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles?"  

*And I see His sovereignty.  God is a just God.  He does what is right and good and holy.  There are days when I wish my feeble mind could understand His working - why He does what He does.  But I am ever so glad that I cannot put my God in a box and understand Him.  

*What kind of God would that be, if I served a God I could fully understand? 

*I am glad I am the clay, and not the Potter. 

"If I stand, let me stand on the promise, that You will pull me through; and if I can't, let me fall on the grace, that first brought me to You." -If I Stand, Rich Mullins