Hymnflection: "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go"

If you're ever wondering if God is calling you to do something, a song you may wish to consider singing is "I'll Go Where You Want Me to Go," written by Mary Brown in 1892.

It may not be on the mountain's height,
or over the stormy sea;
it may not be at the battle's front
my Lord will have need of me;
but if by a still, small voice he calls
to paths I do not know,
I'll answer dear Lord with my hand in thine,
I'll go where you want me to go.

I'll go where you want me to go, dear Lord,
o'er mountain, or plain or sea;
I'll say what you want me to say, dear Lord,
I'll be what you want me to be.

Perhaps today there are loving words
which Jesus would have me speak;
there may be now, in the paths of sin,
some wanderer whom I should seek.
O Savior, if thou wilt be my Guide,
tho' dark and rugged the way,
my voice shall echo the message sweet,
I'll say what you want me to say.

There's surely somewhere a lowly place
in earth's harvest fields so wide,
where I may labor thro life's short day
for Jesus the Crucified.
So, trusting my all unto thy care,
I know thou lovest me!
I'll do thy will with a heart sincere,
I'll be what you want me to be.

(Tune: MANCHESTER)

This hymn encourages us to be open to God's leading in our lives, whether God calls us to move geographically, to speak a good message to strangers, or to commit our lives in service to God. According to the song, God needs us. God may be able to accomplish his will by snapping his fingers and miraculously changing the world, but this song teaches that God needs our help, and that God acts in the world through us.

While God often calls people to new lands, the second verse shows that God may call us to participate in God's mission where we are. When we walk down the street, we may find "some wanderer" to whom God has called us to bring glad tidings. The third verse describes the entire world as "harvest fields so wide." This alludes to when Jesus, having traveled through various towns to teach, preach, and heal, looks on the crowds with compassion because they are like sheep with no shepherd, and tells his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest" (Matt. 9:37-38). Through this hymn, we can ask God to hire us as laborers in God's harvest.

The phrase "life's short day" alerts me to the limited opportunities we have to do good. At the same time, it encourages me to give thanks for every moment, not fearing that it will vanish but delighting in it because of its rarity. Paradoxically, though the day is short, time serving God overflows. Rather than counting time in fear that it is running out, we can count time in thanksgiving, knowing that all time belongs in God. More important than how much time we have left is how we live in that time. My brief experiences with time suggest that time in love for God and others always becomes holy and good, and there is enough time for that kind of time. Also, if God is merciful and if time belongs in God, then time too may be merciful. Though the day is short, the day has not ended, and God may give us grace in the form of time to do God's work even if we have waited longer than we should have to begin working.

Mary Brown says we labor for "Jesus the Crucified," suggesting that Jesus' death is the model for our work. Sometimes that comparison can tempt people to work in ways that are not good for them, and in ways God has not called them to work. For example, in an attempt to help another person, someone may inflict suffering upon herself, even if that suffering does nothing to help the other person. She may think her action was right because Jesus helped others by giving his entire life. Although through Jesus' death we receive life and enter a new relationship with God, his sacrifice is unique and final; there is none like his.

Further, various places in the Bible tell us that God does not require us to sacrifice ourselves, our animals, or our firstborn; instead, God requires that we do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God (Micah 6:8). The sacrifice God desires, the Psalmist tells us, is a broken spirit and a contrite heart (Ps. 51:17).

What helps me understand Jesus' sacrifice is communion. In communion, we share a meal which is Jesus' body and blood given for us. We give thanks for what God did for us in Christ. Jesus' death is like his life in that it was a gift and an offering for the world. Wherever Jesus went, he gave of himself to others, delighting them with stories and teaching them God's ways. His death was the ultimate act of teaching people how to live faithfully and peacefully, proclaiming the good news of God's reconciling love, and healing the world. When we take communion, we welcome the power of Jesus' good work into our lives.

Similarly, we are called to be thanksgiving meals which nourish, strengthen, and give life to others. It may mean moving to the middle of a war zone, or it may mean moving to the middle of a city. It may mean preaching the gospel in a foreign language, or it may mean reaching out to someone we see often but have never looked at in the eyes. God's work for each of us is unique because God has given us different gifts and callings. But we unite in that our model and energy source for this work is Jesus; like him, we can trust our all into God's care, confident in God's love for us. Empowered by his Spirit, we too can go where God sends us, say what God gives us, and be who God calls us to be.

"Just as I am, I make my plea" (song)

Recently I have been reading the hymn "Just as I am, without one plea" by Charlotte Elliott (1789-1871), written in 1835. I know this hymn is meaningful to many people, and I like the idea of coming to God just as we are, but I have never quite related with this hymn. Maybe it's the old-fashioned language; maybe it's because I can't remember singing it in church; it may also be because I have difficulty connecting the message of the song with its prominent image of the Lamb of God. So I have written another version. But first, the original:

Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, Thy love unknown
Hath broken every barrier down;
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, of that free love
The breadth, length, depth, and height to prove,
Here for a season, then above,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

(TUNE:  WOODWORTH) 

In my version, I draw out the image of Jesus as the Lamb of God in several ways, beginning in the first verse with an allusion to John 1, in which John the Baptist calls Jesus the "Lamb of God." John's disciples then ask Jesus where he is staying and Jesus replies, "Come and see" (v. 30).

Just as I am, I make my plea
to ask if you would welcome me
and in reply you say, "Come and see."
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as you were, you came to us:
the Child of God, a child of dust
to show us how God's love to trust.
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as we were, you took away
the sin of the world, our deep decay
and called us to follow the light of your Way
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, I come to you
though hiding myself, though torn in two
believing that you will make me true.
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

Just as I am, you welcome me
to join at the feast of your family.
What was grape and wheat we will take and eat:
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

"Be Thou My Vision"

Written sometime in winter 2014.
 

"Be Thou My Vision," a traditional Irish hymn attributed to Dallan Forgaill from the 8th century, asks God to be the one we see and through whom we see.

Be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me, save that thou art
Thou my best thought by day or by night
Waking or sleeping, thy presence my light

Be thou my Wisdom and thou my true Word
I ever with thee and thou with me, Lord
Thou my great parent and I thy true child
Thou in me dwelling and I with thee one

Riches I heed not nor all empty praise
Thou mine inheritance now and always
Thou and thou only, first in my heart
High King of heaven, my treasure thou art

High King of heaven, my victory won
May I reach heaven's joys, O bright heaven's sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, O Ruler of all. Amen.

(Tune: SLANE)

This rich hymn begins and ends with the petition that God be our vision. This suggests that the whole song teaches us what it means for God to be our vision. "Naught be all else to me, save that thou art": When God is our vision, the only things that matter to us are God and what matters to God. When we are asleep or awake, God's presence accompanies our thoughts. We remember that God is our loving parent dwelling with us, giving us wisdom and filling us with life. When God is our vision, we do not seek wealth or the high esteem of others, but trust that God will give us all that we need. God becomes the one we seek first.

When God is our vision, our own vision begins to change. I suspect we begin to see the world as God sees it: "The LORD does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart" (1 Sam. 16:7, NRSV). We see beyond the surface to the truth. I recently watched a movie in 3D. During the first five minutes, the screen flashed erratically and the colors were only green and black. Then someone complained and an attendant restarted the movie, fixing the visuals. After that, watching the movie made me feel like I was beside the characters, floating in space. I knew that now I was watching the movie as it was meant to be watched. Seeing with God's vision is probably similar: the world comes into more focus than before.

Seeing more clearly often takes time, though. The Gospel of Mark tells a story of a blind man whom Jesus healed--twice. After Jesus touches his eyes the first time, Jesus asks him if he can see anything, and the man says, "I can see people, but they look like trees, walking." So Jesus touches his eyes again, and this time, the man "looked intently and his sight was restored, and he saw everything clearly" (Mark 8:22-25). For this man, seeing clearly was a process. Like him, I need Jesus' healing touch again and again in order to see more clearly.

John writes that "No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God lives in us, and his love is perfected in us" (1 John 4:11-12). The deeper we live in love, the more clearly we see God. When we love God and our neighbor, God becomes our vision.

May God make us see, and seeing, help us to better love God and our neighbor. May God be the one we seek. May God be our vision.

Standing on the Borders in Joy: "Children of the Heavenly King"

The hymn I am reflecting on this week is "Children of the Heavenly King" by John Cennick (1718-1755).

Children of the heavenly King,
As we journey let us sing;
Sing our Savior's worthy praise,
Glorious in his works and ways.

We are traveling home to God,
In the way our fathers trod;
They are happy now, and we
Soon their happiness shall see.

Fear not, brethren; joyful stand
On the borders of our land;
Jesus Christ, our Father's Son,
Bids us undismayed go on.

Lord, obediently we'll go,
Gladly leaving all below;
Only thou our leader be,
And we still will follow thee.

Lift your eyes, ye sons of light,
Zion's city is in sight;
There our endless home shall be,
There our Lord we soon shall see. Amen.

(Tune: PLEYEL'S HYMN)

The hymn begins by addressing "children of the heavenly King." This makes me think about the joy of being called children of God: "See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are" (1 John 3:1). John goes on to write that though now we are God's children, what we will become has not yet been revealed. "What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure" (1 Jn. 3:2-3). God will be fully revealed, and at that time so will we, and we will resemble God. In hoping for this revelation and transfiguration, we purify ourselves, just as God is pure; in hoping to be like God, we become like God.

It may be this journey towards Christlikeness that Cennick's hymn describes. It is a journey that all children of God are summoned to embark on. It begins "below," or in this current state of existence and the world, and continues always "on the borders of our land," behind us being what is familiar and before us being a mystery. Our destination is "home to God." Even now, if we "lift [our] eyes," we may see "Zion's city," "our endless home" where God dwells--or at least a glimpse of it. What do these glimpses of the Holy City look like?

"As we journey let us sing." Several years ago, three friends and I climbed a mountain. It took us half a day, and one of the things I remember most about the hike was that we sang through some of it. Sometimes we took turns singing each line of a song. We began the hike at night, and as the sun was rising, I began singing "Morning has broken. . ." If I had known the lyrics, I would have sung the whole song. Singing was fun and gave me energy to keep walking when I was tired. On our journey toward God, songs give us strength.

"Sing our Savior's worthy praise, / Glorious in his works and ways." Cennick encourages us to sing in joy and worship for all of the wonderful things God has done--and the wonderful ways God has done them. God has created and continues to create us. God has saved us and is restoring us. On a personal level, God has delivered me from snares and given me many beautiful experiences. Singing about these moments feeds me.

"Fear not, brethren; joyful stand / On the borders of our land." The opposite and antidote to fear, Cennick says, is joy. Sometimes standing on a border can invoke fear. A few times as a college student, I joined a group of people at the border between San Diego and Tijuana, Mexico, to worship God in song, prayer, speeches, and food, with people from both sides of the border. Here was a glimpse of the Holy City: people of different nations, ages, genders, and economic statuses sharing life together. It reflected the unity in Paul's description of God's children: "As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:27-28).

But not everyone who attended saw things that way. Once, a man interrupted the service by walking up to us and shouting at us through a megaphone. Perhaps he and the other men with him were afraid of crossing a border into hospitality by welcoming people from Mexico and Latin America. How would their attitudes toward foreigners change if they stood on the border not in fear but joy because God calls people from all nations to be children of God and members of God's family, and that such a call is an expression of God's love for us? How would my attitude change toward foreigners of all kinds if I stood on the border in the joy of God?

I have stood on spiritual borders, crossroads where I needed to decide between staying where I was or going into a new land. When I face such decisions, choosing can be terrifying because I do not know the consequences of either choice. What are the dangers? What are the blessings? How will I change? Is God leading me in a certain direction? Cennick's words encourage me to stand at such crossroads with joy. Instead of trembling, I can sing.

Jesus Christ "bids us undismayed go on" into God's realm. We can trust that God desires to lead us into God's will, and that in God's time God will give clarity. When God calls us to some specific path, sometimes it is more difficult than the hymn suggests to obediently go, "gladly leaving all below," but I am encouraged when I realize that I journey to God, who is the source of life and joy, and who gives us what we need.

As we journey and stand on borders of various kinds, may God bless us with songs and give us the strength to obediently go further into the life of God.

Let All Together Praise Our God (song)

Today is both New Years Day and the eighth day of Christmas. Although part of me wishes New Years Day fell on the first Sunday of Advent, since Advent begins the new year in the Christian calendar, it is also fitting that New Years Day comes at the heart of the Christmas season because of the newness that God brought to the world in Christ and continues to create in Christ. Also, the the novelty of God's becoming a human in Jesus continues to surprise many people even ages after it happened.

I have a book that gives a hymn each week, and last week's hymn was the Christmas carol "Let All Together Praise Our God" by Nicolaus Hermann of Bohemia (c. 1480-1561). It plainly expresses the creative activity of the Incarnation:

Let all together praise our God
Upon his lofty throne;
For he uncloses heaven today
And gives to us his Son,
And gives to us his Son.

He lays aside his majesty
And seems as nothing worth,
And takes on him a servant's form,
Who made the heaven and earth,
Who made the heaven and earth.

Behold the wonderful exchange
Our Lord with us doth make!
Lo, he assumes our flesh and blood,
And we of heaven partake,
And we of heaven partake.

The glorious gates of paradise
The angel guards no more;
This day again those gates unfold.
With praise our God adore,
With praise our God adore! Amen.
(Tune: LOBT GOTT IHR CHRISTEN; MIDI)

Through this hymn, we can praise God, who reigns from far beyond our realm, for giving to us God's very self in becoming a human. Through the Incarnation, God "uncloses heaven"; in other words, God opens and reveals heaven to us, beginning to unite God's realm with ours.

Further, through Jesus, God "lays aside his majesty / And seems as nothing worth"; the one who created heaven and earth takes on "a servant's form." Many of us would expect God incarnate to be a mighty conqueror, unmoved by our pleas, impenetrable by weapons, temptations, and sin, but Jesus is the opposite: he is born among farm animals, he is moved with compassion by the people who follow him, and he is vulnerable, so vulnerable that he dies at human hands. But through this vulnerability, God empathizes with us, and through Jesus' death humanity is saved from death. Somehow, both Jesus' birth and death reconcile us with God. Perhaps it is Jesus' whole life which reconciles us with God. Because God becomes vulnerable in Christ, we can now "of heaven partake."

The final verse says that through the Incarnation, the gates of paradise, which God had barred after Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit, are now open for humanity's re-entry. The book of Revelation paints a slightly different picture: rather than restoring the Garden of Eden, God gives to the world the holy city, the new Jerusalem, which descends to earth. However, within that city is a kind of garden: flowing through the middle of the city is "the river of the water of life," and on either side of the river is "the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, producing its fruit each month; and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations" (Rev. 22:1-2). No matter the details, Hermann expresses that humanity's entrance into the holy city, the new realm, does not begin on a future day, but began on Christmas Day.

So New Years Day seems to come at a fitting time for Christians. If it came during Advent, we would be jumping the gun, celebrating newness before celebrating the birth of the one who is making all things new. If it came on Christmas Day, we might focus on the newness that Jesus brought when he was born and forget the novelty that he continues to make. Instead, New Years Day comes a week after Christmas, suggesting that newness is a consequence of Christ.

Further, our celebrating New Years Day in the middle of the Christmas season reflects the Incarnation. Just as, on this day, we celebrate two events at once, following two calendars at once, so too in Christ God celebrates both holiness and profanity, Holy Spirit and human flesh, creator and creation at once.

"So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us." 2 Corinthians 5:17-19

Thanks to God for reconciling all things in Christ! May we be open to God's new work in us, and have the courage and willingness to participate in God's reconciliation and work of making all things new.