Mining Grace

What Children Sing

Sometimes its not much fun being the pastor's son.  But there are some perks—like having the ear of the guy who plans the liturgy each Sunday.  At breakfast this morning, Will, my 5 year old, asked if he could pick the songs we sing this Sunday.  Realizing the large potential pool of music my 60 month old child might choose from I reluctantly agreed.  To my grateful astonishment he chose, O For A Thousand Tongues to Sing, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, and When Peace Like a River (aka It Is Well With My Soul).  In all honestly—with all of my seminary training and ministry experience—I couldn't have picked any better. 

Why would Will pick these?  In part its because of a decision Hallie and I made early in parenthood. 

When we started worshiping together in our home as a family we had to choose whether we would go with A Mighty Fortress is Our God or Jesus Loves Me This I Know.  We chose the mighty fortress.  Our reasoning went like this. 

How much does our 2 year old really understand about the song Jesus Loves Me This I Know?  Very little.  Later, as he grows up, he'll understand a great deal about that simple statement and hopefully be able to articulate with warmth and depth what it means for Jesus—the second person of Trinity—to love him enough to die on the cross in his place.  So, on the principle that comprehension will come later and give weight to memorized songs, we thought, "Why not teach our kids the weighty hymns and psalms of the church?"  If I had to give a car to my child now that he would not be able to drive till he was 16 I'd rather give him a 2009 Chevy Pickup than an 1975 AMC Gremlin.  One will haul freight and the other will barely haul itself. 

Sitting at the table this morning I was glad for my son's selections but my joy extended beyond that.  As my son grows he'll have songs he can grow into, songs that will grow with him.  And for the timing being, my boy would rather ask God in song for a thousand worshipers of Jesus rather than simply hoping that he is one of Jesus's sunbeams—whatever in the world that means.

At the End of Sorrow

There were televisions hanging at the end of the halls in the RTS, Charlotte campus.  They usually gave updates on campus life.  But not that day.

One hung outside our classroom as we studied Hebrew.  A student ran in through hallway door and quickly switched the channel to a news feed—a no-no on any other day.  Our attention was swept away from the word of God to the world of God.  Buildings in New York City were on fire.  Later they would fall in rubble. 

On September 11, 2001 I was a seminary student learning about my sovereign God.  His sovereignty didn't fail on that day it was just harder to explain, harder to understand.

We had chapel that morning.  Dr. Brown suggested we sing the hymn I include below.  We did.  The reminder of God's eventual and final triumph over evil, sin, death, and darkness clung to my clothing like a scent you just can't shake.  I was glad for it.

The cross of Jesus was and is my hope.  At that lonely hill I have to admit that tremendous suffering and God's glorious triumph can exist side by side.  I have to confess that peace wins the day through blood.  I have to concede that all wrongs will be made right.  I have to.  

It's days like this I don't really need to be reminded to that my crucified Lord is still on his throne.

————

Christian, dost thou see them on the holy ground,
How the powers of darkness rage thy steps around?
Christian, up and smite them, counting gain but loss,
In the strength that cometh by the holy cross.

Christian, dost thou feel them, how they work within,
Striving, tempting, luring, goading into sin?
Christian, never tremble; never be downcast;
Gird thee for the battle, watch and pray and fast.

Christian, dost thou hear them, how they speak thee fair?
“Always fast and vigil? Always watch and prayer?”
Christian, answer boldly: “While I breathe I pray!”
Peace shall follow battle, night shall end in day.

“Well I know thy trouble, O my servant true;
Thou art very weary, I was weary, too;
But that toil shall make thee some day all Mine own,
At the end of sorrow shall be near my throne.”