Liturgy Lessons: March 3, 2019
Call to Worship: Psalm 16:1-2, 5-11; Ps. 77:11-15
Prayer of Invocation
Hymn of Faith: God is our Refuge and our Strength (info below, at end of lesson)
Reading: Psalm 93
Hymn of Adoration: Holy God, We Praise Your Name (#103)
Confession: Hebrews 12:1-2 and prayer
Musical Meditation: Jesus, Lover of My Soul
Assurance of Pardon: from Philippians 3
Hymns of Assurance: There is a Hope; My Hope is Built (#521)
Catechism/Congregational Prayers
Reading of the Word: Luke 9:51-56
Doxology: #733
Sermon: Rev. Eric Irwin
Tithes and Offerings
The Lord’s Supper: And Can It Be? (#455); Be Thou My Vision (#642)
Closing Hymn: Look, Ye Saints (#299)
Benediction
This week we have a guest storyteller. Mr. Wesley (the kids call him “Charlie”) will be joining us for supper. He travels frequently to churches to tell his stories, which are often broadcast all over the world. He visited with us last year and told one of his most famous stories. Here is a brief transcription of that conversation:
Charlie – “The year was 1738. It was Pentecost Sunday, and my heart was strangely warmed. The Spirit of God chased away the darkness of my unbelief, and I gained faith in Christ.”
Congregrant (interrupting) – “And, can it be that I should gain…”
Charlie (continuing) – “an interest in the Savior’s blood? Yes, I asked the same question, and more. Died He for me, who caused his pain? For me, who him to death pursued?”
Congregant – “Amazing Love! How can it be that God would die for me?”
Charlie – “Well, ‘tis mystery all! The immortal dies. Who can explore his strange design? ‘Tis mercy all, immense and free. And, praise my God, it found out me.”
Congregant – “Amazing Love! Tell me more.”
Charlie – “Jesus left his Father’s throne above. So free, so infinite is His grace. He humbled himself (so great his Love), and bled for all his chosen race.”
Congregant – “Amazing Love! And how did you respond?”
Charlie – “Long my imprisoned spirit lay fast bound in sin and nature’s night. His eye diffused a quickening ray; I woke, the dungeon flamed with light; my chains fell off, my heart was free; I rose, went forth, and followed Him.”
Congregant – “Amazing Love! That’s great stuff, so poetic. Can I quote you?”
Charlie – “Sure, it’s not just my story, it’s all of ours. In fact, here’s a verse I wrote that you all can use together. ‘No condemnation now I dread; Jesus, and all in him, is mine! Alive in him, my living Head, and clothed in righteousness divine, bold I approach the eternal throne, and claim the crown, through Christ my own. Amazing Love, how can it be that Thou my God shouldst die for me?’”
Congregant – “Thank you, Mr. Wesley. We will certainly use that! Thank you for telling us your story!”
Our liturgy is a weekly re-telling of the great story of our redemption. It deposits into us a living memory of scriptures, prayers, and hymns that are saturated with the salvation narrative. When we gather on Sunday morning, what we do is a sort of gospel re-enactment, wherein we walk together the inevitable path from Egypt to Canaan by way of Calvary. The bulletin is our script, the form and content of which is a wonderful recounting of God’s saving acts toward His people. It is fitting then, that each service ends with the Lord’s supper, a practice that Jesus commanded us to do in remembrance of Him (Lk. 22:19; 1 Cor. 11:24-25).
One of the most powerful tools for our collective memory is the lyrics of our hymns. I’m sure you can all recall a verse, phrase, or clause from a hymn that the Holy Spirit tattooed on your brain in any given week. This is all by design. It is a gift from the Great Physician, who gave us music to be medicinal for our memories. “Do you suffer from spiritual amnesia? Well, take two hymns and call me in the morning.”
And yet the modern church often discards this antidote. When we choose to conform to the culture, we do with old songs what is often done with old people. We put them away somewhere when they take too much effort, have become useless, or just plain boring. In so doing, we cut ourselves off from all these hymns have to offer and the stories they have to tell. Historically informed worship is rich because it draws from the deep well of gathered wisdom, not unlike sitting down to talk with your grandparents about their lives. There is perspective there that provides a natural counterbalance to our bias, and clarity for our own fogged-over forgetfulness. Our hymnal is a treasure trove of two millennia worth of soul-stirring devotional poetry and a collection of some of the finest melodies ever compiled. It is NOT intended as a poetic or musical nursing home. Which brings me to a story I’d like to recall with you.
My paternal grandmother, Marie Reidinger Hauck, was a Catholic cantor in her younger days, and then for years she was the soloist in the country parish where her husband, Rudy, preached. She loved to sing the old hymns. Her soprano voice was as sweet as her disposition. Born in 1919, she lived most of her life on a farm in South Dakota, raising seven children (6 boys and 1 girl). My father was her second-born and the one that inherited the talent for solo singing. For the final fourteen years of her life, Marie battled Alzheimers. In the last five years, the dementia was so severe that she lost control over all physical faculties. She was dependent on the staff of the nursing home to clothe her, feed her, bathe her, and get her in and out of bed. In the late stages, even the formation of words to speak became impossible. But—and here’s the remarkable thing—despite such crippling incapacity, she could still sing. In the early fall of 2011, at age 92, mere weeks before she died, Marie could still sing the words and the melody to every verse of the old hymns. And it made her so very, very happy to do so. Her face and spirit would light up with such delight and childlike joy when a familiar strain would start on the old upright in the cafeteria.
“On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross…”
In these moments, the transformation was nothing short of a miracle. Gone was the person who spent the past hours sleeping or slobbering, who moments ago was lifted out of bed. This severely feeble and mentally debilitated woman would be transformed, if only for a few minutes, into a giddy choir girl, lifting her voice with the refrain…
“Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee, how great Thou art!”
Her body and brain, like the autumn leaves out her window, had retarded the process that ensured their survival. But when the spring and summer songs of her life would begin to play, even as her mind faded into winter, her true colors came to the surface. And she would smile and sing…
“What a friend we have in Jesus…”
No mental handicap could take those hymns from her. Synapses and neurons were all failing, but His Love never fails. These beloved strains were soldered to her soul, carved on her heart, the very marrow of her faith. Though outwardly she was wasting away, inwardly she was being renewed day by day, as the echoes of these great hymns reverberated in the open cathedral spaces of her mind…
“And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own…”
Here was a soul that loved Jesus, that often sang His praise, and one for whom the music never stopped. Though it was trapped in a dilapidated old shack, one that was bowed and breaking under the weight of the winter’s snow, inside those bent four walls was the fire of faith and the warm glow of cherished melodies, which put these words ever on her tongue…
“This is my story, this is my song, praising my Savior all the day long…”
Marie went to heaven just two days after her husband passed on. They are buried together beside the Yellowstone River just outside Terry, Montana. And now they are harmonizing together…
“Yes, we’ll gather at the river, the beautiful, the beautiful, the river
Gather with the saints at the river that flows by the throne of God.”
I know there is a neurological explanation for my grandmother’s story; however, even if modern science explains this phenomenon, it still exists by God’s design. He has formed us in His image, and He made our mental mechanisms such that memory and music are mapped together. They co-exist in a tethered, almost umbilical, relationship.
The ancient Greeks knew this. They revered the goddess Mnemosyne, who takes her name from the Greek word Mneme, which means memory. She was the mother of the nine muses, from which we derive the word “music.” So, basically, memory is the mother of music. And who is the father? Well, for the Greeks it was Zeus himself, who took on the form of a mortal shepherd to impregnate Mnemosyne. The offspring of this union were the nine muses, who were responsible for the inspiration given to artists and philosophers in areas of human endeavor, including epic poetry, history, astronomy, comedy, tragedy, hymns, dance, and of course, music. They were brought to the beautiful mount Elikonas, where Apollo (God of the Sun) taught them to encourage creation and enhance the imagination and inspiration of artists. Before you write off this mythology as harebrained and heretical, let me paint over this with a broad quasi-biblical brush.
Music is formed from the seed of the King of the gods, and forever linked to memory. The great Father of music was also described as a shepherd. Music was given to mankind through the Son, who brought all to his holy mountain, where true beauty is to be found. Now, any of that sound familiar?
The themes linking music and memory are written throughout scripture. In David’s song of thanks (1 Chron. 16) we hear this:
“Seek the Lord and his strength; seek His presence continually!
Remember the wondrous works that He has done,
His miracles and the judgments he uttered,
O offspring of Israel his servant,
Sons of Jacob, his chosen ones!”
The Psalms are clear that one of the purposes of song is to remember the greatness of God and his works.
“I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your wonders of old.”
– Ps. 77:11
And, if we are forgetful, the Lord uses His word to remind us and stir our hearts again toward praise.
“He has caused his wondrous works to be remembered; the Lord is gracious and merciful.”
– Psalm 111:4
This is one of the main purposes for the hymns. They conjure up and summon “whatever is true, honorable, just, pure, lovely, commendable, and excellent,” all the things of God that are “worthy of praise, that we might think about these things.” (Phil. 4:8). They help us recount, recall, remember the gospel story. And, here again we are taking a cue from ancient Greece. Many people believe that the way that Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey were remembered and passed down was because they were sung. The Iliad is sometimes referred to as the Song of Ilium. The Greeks recounted the great deeds of Odysseus and Achilles by singing of them. So, too, we can more effectively remember the story of God’s saving work throughout history by singing the songs we have inherited. In this way, the ancient hymns are the church’s epic poetry in miniature. Speaking of epic…
Te Deum Laudamus
We praise you, O God, we acclaim you as Lord;
all creation worships you, the Father everlasting.
To you all angels, all the powers of heaven, the cherubim and seraphim, sing in endless praise:
Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory.
The glorious company of apostles praise you.
The noble fellowship of prophets praise you.
The white-robed army of martyrs praise you.
Throughout the world the holy Church acclaims you:
Father, of majesty unbounded, your true and only Son, worthy of all praise, the Holy Spirit, advocate and guide.
You, Christ, are the king of glory, the eternal Son of the Father.
When you took our flesh to set us free you humbly chose the virgin’s womb.
You overcame the sting of death, and opened the kingdom of heaven to all believers.
You are seated at God’s right hand in glory.
We believe that you will come to be our judge.
Come then, Lord, and help your people, bought with the price of your own blood,
and bring us with your saints to glory everlasting.
The Te Deum is an ancient and transcendent hymn from the fourth century. The hymn worships the Triune God by exulting in a mighty symphony of praise streaming forth from all creation, the saints on earth and the saints in heaven, angel choirs, the apostles, prophets, and martyrs, and the worldwide church. This Sunday we join that song by declaring a rendered version of Te Deum Laudamus, which translates simply into “Lord, we praise you.” This ancient prayer is used by all traditions of Christendom: Eastern, Roman Catholic, and Protestant. Outside of the Psalms and the canticles (those hymns found in scripture), the Te Deum is arguably the church’s greatest hymn. It is a gourmet distillation of scripture (Isaiah, Revelation, and the Psalms) that follows the outline of the Apostles’ Creed. Much of the text will be familiar (perhaps even memorized) to millions of Christians, because sections of the prayer are common liturgical phrases and acclamations used in liturgies worldwide. Authorship is traditionally ascribed to Saints Ambrose and Augustine, on the occasion of the latter’s baptism by the former in AD 387. These two giants of the faith have collaborated on a hymn that starts with a poetic vision of the heavenly liturgy, followed by the fundamental doctrines of the Christian faith, and ending with a prayer for salvation and unity. For more on our sung version, I refer you to this past liturgy lesson.
There are many other stories I could highlight here, but I’ve already gone on too long, and I don’t want this to become too much of an odyssey. If, however, you are hungry for more of our hymn stories for this week, I have embedded the link to each of them in the liturgy outline at the top of the page, so feel free to click away. They are, each of them, a summons. Let us remember, and let us sing!
Oh…one more thing. There is one new hymn this week, based on Psalm 46. The pairing of text and tune is brand new, so there is no complete online version of the hymn. However, here is a recording of organ accompaniment for the very simple and beautiful Welsh folk tune. The lyrics are below. I encourage you to go through this at least once before Sunday.
God is our refuge and our strength,
Our ever-present aid,
And, therefore, though the earth remove,
We will not be afraid;
Though hills amidst the sea be cast,
Though foaming waters roar,
Yes, though the mighty billows shake
The mountains on the shore.
A river flows whose streams make glad
The city of our God,
The holy place wherein the Lord
Most high has His abode;
Since God is in the midst of her,
Unmoved her walls shall stand,
For God will be her early help,
When trouble is at hand.
The nations raged, the kingdoms moved,
But when His voice was heard
The troubled earth was stilled to peace
Before His mighty Word.
The Lord of Hosts is on our side,
Our safety is secure;
The God of Jacob is for us
A refuge strong and sure.
Be still and know that I am God,
O’er all exalted high;
The subject nations of the earth
My name shall magnify.
The Lord of Hosts is on our side,
Our safety is secure;
The God of Jacob is for us
A refuge strong and sure.