TRUMPETS SHALL SOUND!

Daffodils in spring gladden my heart like nothing else. I grew up in Western Washington’s Puyallup Valley, which for decades has celebrated that flower with a parade and outstanding teen girls chosen as “daffodil royalty.” But for me, it’s more than a spring party. The trumpeted golden flowers to me speak of the glory of God. This time of year, I often search for You-Tube excerpts of the solo, “The Trumpet shall Sound,” from Handel’s Messiah. Nothing grips my heart like its straight-from-scripture lyrics: about the someday-beginning of forever-life with God:

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. (1 Corinthians 15:52 KJV)

Along with the prospect of a sudden rush to eternity comes the self-examination in anticipation of the searing, pure eyes of a Holy God. Have I glorified Him with my life? Have I sought to serve Him? Did people see Jesus in Me? Or did I throw away my opportunities, instead spending my time in worthless activities? In our media-saturated culture, which connects the number of Facebook “followers” with status, that's an uncomfortable question.

Maybe I should rephrase this: If God read your Facebook posts, how would you feel?

I've come to appreciate the spiritual insights of Christian pastor and author A.W. Tozer (1897-1963). He spoke and wrote widely of the deeper inner spiritual life. When asked about the perception of “holiness” as a “negative kind of piety” that people shy away from, Tozer replied:

No, of course not! Holiness in the Bible means moral wholeness—a positive quality which actually includes kindness, mercy, purity, moral blamelessness and godliness. It is always thought to be of in a positive, white intensity of degree.*

A former pastor (now deceased) one year ministered healing words through a daily devotional based on a read-through-the-Bible calendar. His widow sent me a copy of the printed devotions, and it has enriched my Bible study for now a second year. He died before the predicted “final trumpet sound” when Christ returns again. But...could I hear it in my lifetime? I don't know. I do know this: every day is closer.

For several years a church I once attended had a very senior pastor on staff for “visitation.” He outlived two wives, dying in his nineties! But I was told that in his last year, in a little bedroom suite he shared with his third wife at a senior home, there was a note on their door: “Perhaps today.”

We who knew him, knew his meaning: Jesus might come before he died. Well, he died. But those two words continue to come to mind as eternity gets closer. Especially they revisit every spring, when the earth awakens and my favorite flowers inch up with their golden, trumpet crowns.

Earth-words cannot adequately describe the worship culture of Heaven. But angels with trumpets are prominently mentioned. Yes, the trumpet shall sound—infinitely louder and more joyful than the golden but mute daffodils of spring.

*A.W. Tozer, I Call It Heresy (Harrisburg, PA: Christian Publications, 1974). p. 63.

This short video (at the beginning) highlights the trumpet solo from Handel's Messiah:

Bing Videos

GOOD FRIDAY'S 'ALAS!'

The man who wrote the classic 18^th century Good Friday hymn, “Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed,” was well-acquainted with rejection himself. His rejection, however, was from a woman's withdrawn love, not necessarily from his contemporaries. In fact, Isaac Watts (1674-1748) was what we'd today call a genius, a prolific and popular hymn writer (credited with some 750 hymns) and essayist.

Quickly, the backstory on his life. He was born in 1674 in Southampton, England, in a time of religious controversy. His father's dissenting views with the state church led twice to imprisonment. Biographers tell of Isaac's mother nursing baby Isaac as she sat outside the prison near his father's cell window.

As Watts grew, his genius unfolded. Even in early childhood he had a knack for rhyme which both amused and frustrated his parents. When scolded for keeping his eyes open during prayers, he replied: “A little mouse for want of stairs, ran up a rope to say its prayers.” Even after a spanking for his rhyming habit, he replied, “O father, father, pity take/And I will no more verses make.”

Because his family's theological stance was “non-conformist,” he couldn't attend the Anglican-restricted universities of Oxford or Cambridge, but instead was educated at the “Dissenting Academy.” He pastored a large independent chapel a few years, but poor health forced him to quit. Instead, he worked as a private tutor, eventually becoming a permanent resident at one of his clients' estate.

His prolific writing output included many books about the Bible, theology, logic and other topics. Add to that the huge output of hymns, including many still sung today: “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,” “Joy to the World,” “O God, Our Help in Ages Past,” “Jesus Shall Reign Wherever the Son,” and today's feature, “Alas, and Did My Savior Bleed.”

He also wrote a book of songs that became the first hymnal ever published only for children. He loved children, but sadly never married or became a father. He did have a girlfriend, of sorts, a fan of his works whom he met by letter. When she finally traveled to meet him, she was put off by his less-than-handsome appearance. Small (five feet tall) and frail, he had a huge head and a long-hooked nose. Sadly, that ended her “crush” on him.

Frail in health, for his last thirty-plus years Watts lived with a nobleman friend (and later the friend's widow and daughter), never to know the centuries-long impacts of his hymn-writing. Notably, about 1850—a hundred years after Watts died—a 30-year-old blind woman went to a revival service in New York City. There, she heard a choir sing Watts' hymn, “Alas! And Did My Savior Bleed?” The hymn stirred her heart, especially the last line, “Here, Lord, I give my life away.” That day, she gave her life to Jesus. Her name: Fanny Crosby. Living to age 95, she would become the greatest gospel lyric composer of her time—by some sources, writing more than 8,000 hymns.

SEASON'S GREETINGS!

Christmas, of course, is when the phrase “Season's Greetings” penetrates our culture. I know what people are trying to say, like: “The weather outside is awful, but all those gifts under the tree make things awesome.” So what sort of greetings are appropriate for spring? Please, not “the Easter bunny's comin' tonight.” For me, spring's first smiles are the warm days and earth awakening. The first crocus. Puttin' away the snow boots. Pruning the roses. Looking upward, to the blue sky, and thinking, Oh, God, all this You created. I cannot imagine Your smile as Your plan of beauty emerged.

To borrow from King Solomon and his famous “love ode”:

See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone,

Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come. (Song of Solomon 2:11)

Yes, I know, he wasn't giving a weather report for the six o'clock news. Instead, his hormones were bubbling for a certain young lady whose love he craved. But maybe there's a lesson here beneath his poetry.

This winter, two friends lost their husbands. I've been down that lonely road, and while I can offer hugs and words of care, it's a journey we must take in our own way, leaning heavily into Jesus. “Lover of My Soul.”

If that last phrase stirred up some old memories of a hymn, you're right. It goes back to about 1740 when Charles Wesley penned those words shortly after accepting Jesus as His Lord and Savior. Its verses tell of seeking courage and comfort in Jesus when trials come. When the winter of hard times fades. When we can begin to see what God can do with our sorrows and disappointments. Stop for a minute and reflect or sing along about “Jesus, Lover of My Soul”: Bing Videos

The crocus blossom that faithfully pops up every spring by my front sidewalk reminds me of that. When we put away our snow boots and Christmas carols, we didn't put away all our reasons to sing and praise God. This is Easter month! Even as we can rejoice in flowers re-emerging, we can be astounded again by the beauty of this truth: He is risen, just as He said. And just as the angel triumphantly announced to the women who came to anoint a decaying body, and were shocked by the most amazing news ever.

Surely, “the season of singing has come” and we don't need to wait for “Easter Sunday” to proclaim that: Christ the Lord has risen today...Alleluia

Join these singers on You Tube: Bing Videos

HIGHLIGHTING...THE HIGHLIGHTER

Today's college student can “rent” an online book—unlike my “era” when long lines for textbook-buying snaked out of the college bookstore at the beginning of each term. The most prized copies—cheaper to buy—had the sticker “used” on them. They also typically had generous colored markings inside, thanks to “highlighter markers.” The more markings, the lower the resell value.

We of the Highlighter Generation can thank a chemist named Dr. Frank Honn, who in 1963 (my high school junior year) invented what became a ubiquitous study tool. However, early “highlighters” tended to bleed through thin paper, which included my Bible. In time, a waxy highlighter became available and my go-to for Bible-marking.

Today, those Bible-marking “highlights” re-tell something of my spiritual history. Once I broke away from the thinking that I shouldn't write in my Bible, it became a poignant record of my times with God and sermons that touched my heart. My first Bible (King James Version) was my dad's Bible from young adulthood, a gift from his Sunday school teacher. Its front-page inscription is dated Dec. 25, 1935, meaning my dad was 20 years old.

I know little of my dad's early history other than his mother died (probably of pneumonia in those pre-antibiotic days) when he was 12. His dad worked for the railroad, and desperately needed help caring for his small children. Thus his dad quickly married a single co-worker (a railroad cook) who practiced a ritualistic faith, not that of Dad's birth mother. After high school, Dad attended college in his hometown, finding a church home where Bible-reading mattered.

Years later, when I was 8 or 9, Dad gave me that Bible to take to church and Sunday school. It was, however, more a “prop” for “who-brought-their-Bible-today” checks. But Dad's old Bible was, well, old, with tiny type with lots of “ye,” “thee” and “thou.” 

Ninety years later after he acquired it, I still have it (along with a “New King James,” “Revised Standard Version,” “Living Bible,” “Amplified New Testament,” “New American Standard,” and my personal study Bible, New International Version. Sometimes, in reaching for my dad's King James version, I'll read the first-page inscription in red pencil by his long-ago Sunday school teacher. It says:

This marked copy of God's sure Word is given you as a prize for your faithful attendance at Sunday school. Another prize is promised you in this book for faithfulness to God wants you to find: “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life” (Romans 2:10).

With the same red pencil, his teacher had highlighted thirty key verses or sections of the Bible—one third in the Old Testament, two-thirds in the New. His Sunday school teacher did not sign the inscription. I sometimes wonder about him or her. But I'm grateful that this person took the time to emphasize the value of a Bible to a young adult in a Sunday school class—one who lost a loving parent and needed a spiritual mentor to highlight vital truths from God.

Readers...do you have a “personal Bible” story?

*Carter's Ink Company produced the first pens, trademarked Hi-Liter (c); In 1975 Avery Dennison Corporation acquired Carter's and took on highlighter production.