CROSS-PURPOSES

Like many, I have a cross necklace

A monthly feature on a Christian hymn.

Sometimes, the histories of old, familiar hymns turn down detours we don't expect. That's the case with “In the Cross of Christ I Glory,” written in about 1825 by a brilliant Englishman named John Bowring. Ten years after he penned the words, halfway around the world, Macao (near Hong Kong) was hit by a typhoon. The winds and a fire destroyed the city's impressive St. Paul's Church, leaving a wall of sculptures and a cross. In 1849, Bowring would come to Macao on a British political appointment as its “consul.” That's when he would have seen the ruined church whose condition illustrated his earlier poem, which begins:

In the cross of Christ I glory,/Towering o'er the wrecks of time.

His poem was meant to echo Galatians 6:14: “Far be it from me to glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

But Bowring's life path prior to government service did not unfold as one might expect. As a young man he felt called to preach in the ministry of the Unitarian Church, whose theology conflicts with Christian denominations that emphasize the atoning death of Jesus Christ. His father encouraged him to pursue other life work, probably realizing his son's brilliance would take him far. By one biographical account, Bowring could speak fluently in twenty-two languages and converse in nearly a hundred more. A prolific author, he edited a magazine; eventually some 36 volumes of published works bore his name. He was a biographer, naturalist, financier, statesman and philanthropist. He also served in the House of Commons and was eventually knighted by Queen Victoria. He would die at age 80 in 1872.

Bowring's lyrics (more Gospel-oriented that his later beliefs) would have been lost to time without the inspiration of a frustrated organist and choirmaster at Central Baptist Church in Norwich, Connecticut. One rainy Lenten Sunday in 1851, only one choir member showed up to sing at the worship services. Profoundly disappointed by his choir's unfaithfulness, he turned off his organ after playing the prelude and left the church building, leaving the minister without music support for the rest of the service!

That afternoon, remorseful for so abruptly leaving the service, he recalled a hymn assigned to that day. It had a dull tune. He was inspired to compose another tune for it, naming it after the one choir member who showed up that morning: 24-year-old Mrs. Rathbun. That's why in hymnbooks today the tune is identified as “Rathbun.” Dying just five years later, she would not live to learn of its widespread use.

As for Bowring, his literary and government credentials are rarely remembered today. But on his tombstone are inscribed the words to “In the Cross of Christ I Glory.”

Vocalists and an artist sing and illustrate this classic hymn (link to click):

Bing Videos

 

"WELL"-DONE

Sometimes I have to push my chin back up to close my mouth over the dating-life excesses of our media-fueled, love-weary culture. I'm not talking only about the “bachelor” or “bachelorette” television episodes (which I never bothered to watch) which (assuming by their previews) were likely grounded heavily in sensuality. A few years before that, one television show featured a woman “choosing” to date one of three men hidden behind a barrier. All she had to go on were their voices and answers to some inane questions. When her choice was revealed, her reaction was...well, let the audience decide.

Maybe the problem was the media in charge. Not the Master.

One of the most faith-challenging romance stories of the Bible gives a more God-dependent perspective on man/woman match-ups. Flip to Genesis 24, about the unlikely “romance” of Abraham's old-age miracle offspring, Isaac. Abraham's wife Sarah had died. Isaac was an aging bachelor, with no wife in sight. Before Abraham died, he wanted to check that box for his son. Most important, he wanted Isaac's wife to come from his own family line—days and days of camel-travel away.

No internet. No smart phone. No easy way to check things out beforehand. And no, Isaac wouldn't go along. No way would Abraham risk losing his son to unknown wilderness travel and wife-shopping.

And so Abraham's old, devoted servant left. No jet airplanes in those days. No nice highways. Instead, camels plodding over wilderness and sand, both left feet forward and down. Both right feet forward and down. Over and over. About 3.5 miles an hour. A journey of some 300 miles to Mesopotamia where Abraham's kin originated. Even more tricky, Abraham wanted a woman from his clan of the many living back there.

You probably recall the rest of the story. After nine to ten days of weary travel, the entourage stopped at a well to water the animals. The servant put out one of those risky “fleece” prayers, asking for a miracle sign. (That's not typically how God works.) He asked for a lovely virgin to offer him and his camels water—no easy job for those humped H20 guzzlers. Out came a beauty queen who just happened to be single, from the right clan, and happy to help the weary travelers. Imagine her surprise when the servant honored her with jewelry and asked to meet her family!

Where am I going with this? To the servant's statement of amazement; “I being in the way, the LORD led me to the house of my master's brethren” (Genesis 24:27 KJV). In our times, “in the way” implies something negative, like you're not needed or impeding a project. But here in King James grammar-era, “in the way” meant that as he was progressing on his way in need of a miracle, God showed up. The rest of the story involved some conversations with the young lady's family and her eagerness to get on her way to meet her future husband. Sight unseen!

This story of God-at-work may be interpreted by some as showing “prayer-answers-on-demand.” But God doesn't always work that way. His ways are higher than our ways. Our call is to be “in [or "on"] the way,” trusting God to lead us to answers or solutions, or even to closed doors when something is not right. Or maybe “not yet”--coming as slow as camels, right feet/left feet/repeat over endless sands, the destination in His timing.

WHEN GRATITUDE'S HARD...

My baby photo--probably one year old....
My name means "God is gracious."

One discipline my parents tried to instill in me was gratitude, my childhood lessons happening around birthdays and Christmas. Before too many days ticked away, I was to sit down and write a thank-you note that “gifted” the “gifter” with appreciation for their effort and thoughtfulness. In the long-range view, this was more than an etiquette thing, especially when the gift we opened was, well, disappointing to a young child. Maybe the gift was socks instead of a new toy. Or an ugly sweater instead of that “cool outfit” everybody else was wearing. Such “thank-you” notes were basic training for bigger things—like trusting God for life's unwelcome turns.

Friends who shared my grief in my husband's recent death helped me see “thanks” in a new way with their sympathy gift of a book, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy* by Mark Vroegop, a pastor and conference speaker from Indianapolis. My husband's packed memorial service, the kind words, the hugs, the baskets of cards, the meals—all brought comfort. But they didn't address the ache in my heart that asked, Why him? Why now? What next?

Long ago I'd memorized Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.” Grief—times of silence and stillness--tested me to the core. It also sent me deeper into scriptures, with this book as a helpful guide.

Vroegop wrote from his own deep pain of holding his just-born but lifeless nine-pound daughter. His and his wife's heartbreak in this inexplicable loss eventually led him to understanding Biblical “lament,” a different emotion from what we understand as “sorrow.” Lament, he said, “is how you live between a hard life and God's promises. It is how we learn to sing and worship when suffering comes our way” (p. 84).

How many years had I read and studied psalms without realizing the “sad ones” had messages for my own sorrows? Vroegop described these “lament psalms” as ways to “turn to God in prayer, lay out our complaints, ask boldly, and choose to trust.” It's not gritting-one's-teeth and thinking somehow you'll get through this. It's banking on the Bible's promises and God's character to learn and grow through pain. It's forging through mourning platitudes to God-directed gratitude.

I'm still on this journey. It actually began decades ago when my parents died six months apart the year I was 31. Then still single, I was tasked with the emptying their home. I tried to be brave, do the “post-death” work. But I didn't grieve well. I'm trusting God to show me renewed hope and healing as I embrace scripture's “lament” passages in fresh ways. To be able to say thank you, even from a broken heart.

*Mark Vroegop, Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy (Wheaton: Crossway, 2019, 223 pages)

ONE BULB AT A TIME

I spent most of my growing-up years in Washington's Puyallup Valley, which for decades has celebrated spring with a “Daffodil Festival,” complete with royalty, a parade, and many other events. Now I live about 150 miles away, but I acknowledged my “valley roots” by planting a few daffodil bulbs at my home. However, my “patch” was a pittance—especially after I learned of “The Daffodil Garden” near Julian, a town in the mountains above San Diego. And that garden was originally no commercial venture. It was the love-labor of one woman, planting one bulb at a time, until the region exploded in the hues of yellow, orange and white of some 80,000 daffodils.

She began in 1958 by planting a couple dozen bulbs around her A-frame home, its shady trees and garden. The collection grew over the next half century, one bulb at a time, until plethhora of blooms became a local tourist attraction that survived her death. The plantings even survived the devastating 2021 month-long “Willow Fire” which scorched nearly 2,900 acres—because the bulbs were resting after their bloom cycle underground.

Did you catch that phrase, one bulb at a time? Her quiet dedication inspired a book with the bigger life principle of starting and steadfastly pursuing a big goal. Like planting bulbs, life goals happen one action at time. This link takes you to a narration of the book:

The Daffodil Principle (abundance-and-happiness.com)

So what? Well, so what of your goals? Maybe an educational or health goal. Or cleaning up your room or home or yard. Or garage! Or tackling a new skill. Nosy question: do you have goals?

I don't know about you, but I faced goals I thought impossible to achieve. Some were financial, others educational and relational. Transforming a goal to reality took tools requiring courage to start and sustain. When I talked to God about them, I was taken back to the advice shared by one of his most energetic, sold-out followers, Paul. He had many strikes against him: health, enemies, folks who didn't really care about the “Jesus story.” Not to mention financial (but he wasn't too important to sew tents for food and housing). He shared his secret: “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

Not quite the “Daffodil Principle.” But similar. There's no reaping without sowing. No daffodils without bulbs. No spiritual fruit by avoiding what God calls us to do.

Challenge question: Are you planting bulbs to bloom where God has planted you?

Be inspired by this montage of daffodil photos:

"the daffodil garden" in julian, california - Search Images (bing.com)

ALL SPICED UP....

Articles that start “How to” often grab my attention, and this time the “how-to” was about when to cull the kitchen spice collection. Those little bottles and cans of flavoring aren't like cheese, which sports a white and blue overcoat if neglected a week or so too long. But like any organic matter, spices are vulnerable to growing “old.” The article said dried, ground, whole herbs and spices react to air around them. Thus, they oxidize and degrade every time they're opened. The article also said anything sold in a can (versus plastic or glass) probably dates back almost to the pyramids, and needs a decent burial.

Could I be so neglectful and guilty? The answer: yes. I kept my spices on a two-tier round turntable, one level baking spices, the other “cooking” ones. The contraption fit nicely into the hard-to-access corner cupboard. Pulling it out, I discovered—gasp!--several canned spices. Some even had stamped “use before” dates, which took me almost back to President Herbert Hoover (sorry, just kidding). I couldn't even remember when I last used them. As each can or plastic bottle was scrutinized for date or usefulness, the eliminations brought me to just a handful of finalists. I wiped down the turning-shelf, reloaded them in alphabetical order (all right, go ahead and tag me as somewhat of a perfectionist, but why not?), and pushed Ms. Turning-shelf back in the cupboard.

Okay, this is not a homemaking advice column, although I did write something of that nature way back in the 1970s as the “Home and Food Editor” of a small-town daily. But the Bible does speak of salt and spices in negative and positive ways.

The negative was the “extreme tithe” practiced by the religious leaders of Jesus' time. The Lord had to be frowning when He declared:

Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of our spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice,mercy and faithfulness. (Matt. 23:23)

Woe to you, Pharisees, because you give God a tenth of your mint, rue and all other kinds of garden herbs, but you neglect justice and the love of God. (Mark 11:42)

I can't even imagine them counting their seed collection to make sure they had one-tenth to put in their offering baggy!

And don't forget salt! Ancient Hebrew priests sprinkled salt on offerings, symbolizing purification, preservation and dedication to God. Likewise, Jesus used salt as an analogy to true spirituality, suggesting positive flavor and the purifying influence of godliness.

You are the salt of the earth. (Matt. 5:13)

Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with each other. (Mark 10:50)

But wait, what about Bible verses about salt (meaning believers) losing its saltiness? (See Matt. 5:13-16 and Mark 9:49-50.) Scientists tell us that over time salt can absorb water molecules, which diminish its power. Can our faith be likewise diluted? Yes. There's a term for it: “backslide.” We get bland like the God-rejecting culture around us.

Regarding my turntable graveyard of old, old spices: I culled its contents to the ones I really used, and replaced two that went back to horse-and-buggy days (well, not quite). And I reflected on how the “old, old story” of Jesus and His love will never expire!