ABIDE WITH ME

Part of a monthly series on well-known hymns.

 “Abide with Me”—that’s the spiritual truth Henry Lyte had to learn through the challenges of his early life. He was born in Scotland 1793 to a devout mother and seafaring father, who soon moved the family to Ireland and then abandoned them.  His mother taught him about the Bible and prayer, but died when he was only nine. Left an orphan without any means of support, he was taken in by his school’s superintendent who raised him like another son, making sure he received a college education. In college in Dublin, Lyte was well-liked, well-known as a poet who received many awards, and had a reputation as a hard worker. It’s no surprise that he coined the phrase, “It’s better to wear out than to rust out.”

At 21 he was ordained to the ministry and took a small parish south of Dublin. He found a close friend in another minister who before long became critically ill. As they spent long hours together, they realized that despite being ministers they didn’t have a growing relationship with Christ. Searching the scriptures, they both came to a deeper faith. Out of this experience came his hymn, “Jesus, My Cross I Have Taken.” One source linked the composition of this hymn to the Wesleyan revival in England. Lyte’s wife, who had attended the Methodist church, told him about a devout woman named Mary Bosenquet, who disappointed her wealthy parents when she became a Christian through the meetings of early Methodists.  Her father disowned her, and after that she lived in poverty, enduring threats and harm from those who opposed Wesley and the Methodists. Lyte’s hymn lyrics speak of her earthly losses to the riches of knowing Christ.

Lyte later moved across the sea to England, working hard in ministry to the detriment of his health as he contracted tuberculosis. Hoping the fresh, salty air of the sea would help him, he moved to a church in Brixham, a seaport in southwest England. There he wrote “Praise My Soul the King of Heaven” for his little congregation to sing. (A century and a half later, on what would be the 150^th anniversary of Lyte’s death, the world heard this hymn played as part of the majestic  1947 wedding ceremony of the future Queen Elizabeth 2 to Prince Philip.)

Brixham was also a royal retreat for King William IV, who during his seven-year reign was known as England’s sailor king. He would die without heirs, and his niece, Victoria, became queen for the next 63 years. At his death he also gifted his estate to Pastor Lyte in return for the pastor’s kindnesses. Talk about a fancy parsonage! But Lyte would live there only ten years as his health worsened with TB.

In the summer of 1847 doctors urged him to get away from the damp winters in Brixham and try to reclaim his health in the warmer climates of Southern France or Italy. On September 4, 1847, only 54 years old, he came to his last Sunday in Brixham, so sick that he struggled to enter the pulpit and preach. “I must put everything in order before I leave,” he told his people, “because I have no idea how long I will be away.”

It was in this time frame of leaving for health that he wrote a poem that begins:

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide.

The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide.

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,

Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

His text for this poem was the Gospel account of the resurrected Jesus appearing to two disciples on the way to Emmaus. As night came, the two told this man they didn’t recognize, “Abide with us: for it is toward evening and the day is far spent” (Luke 24:29).

He gave a copy of this hymn poem to his adopted daughter, taking along another copy which he revised during his trip. He posted the revision to his wife. Arriving at the French Riviera on his way to Rome, he checked into a hotel in Nice. He never went further on, and several weeks later, he died. At his bedside was another English clergyman who happened to be staying there the same time.  He reported that Lyte’s final words were “Peace! Joy!” Lyte was buried in Nice.

When news came back to Brixham of their pastor’s death, the fishermen of the village asked his son-in-law, also a minister, to hold a memorial service. On that occasion, Lyte’s hymn, “Abide with Me” was first sung.

The hymn was not widely sung until it came to the attention a decade later of William Monk, who edited the Anglican church hymnal. He wrote a new tune for it that he named “Eventide,” inspired by a beautiful sunset while Monk himself was experiencing a deep personal sorrow.

There are many "You Tube" videos featuring this hymn. This one uses footage from the British coastline, where Lyte had spent many years in ministry:
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=abide+with+me+youtube+with+lyrics&docid=608020738813854665&mid=81739B50B13D484BA86C81739B50B13D484BA86C&view=detail&FORM=VIRE

CHOSEN

I’m “choosy” when I pick blueberries. I can’t “milk” all the berries off one branch because they ripen at different times. So  I have to watch as I reach under the leaves and thumb off just the ones with a darker blue gleam, leaving the purple, yellow or green ones to ripen more.

The other day as I was doing this almost mindless task, a snippet of a Bible verse came to mind: “The Lord knows those who are his” (2 Timothy 2:12). It turns out to be a quote from Numbers 16:5, where God had to deal with some rebellious folks who disagreed with the way Moses was handling the Exodus wanderings.  It ends with the rebels getting swallowed up in a horrific earthquake. I wouldn’t call that a “Blueberry Acres” moment. But I think there’s a helpful analogy in this sight of blueberries ripening at their own rate. Christians “ripen” (to use that term for spiritual growth) at different rates, too.

This was Paul’s last preserved letter; not long after, he was led from his prison cell and killed by the Romans. No wonder he was thinking about eternal things and the need to give some final words of advice.  One of its best-known verses is 2 Timothy 2:15:

Do you best to present yourself to God as one approved,  a workman who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth.

That’s one of the verses that moved Jim Elliot, who called it the “A.U.G” degree—“approved unto God.” This single-minded man went to Ecuador in the 1950s to share the Gospel and was killed by the very people he hoped to tell about Jesus.  What Paul wrote after that verse reveals some of the steps toward the “A.U.G.”:

*Avoiding godless chatter (2:16).  (What would Paul think of the “talk shows”  and the flood of social media today?)

*Being concerned with personal spiritual cleansing (vv. 20-21). 

*Fleeing the culture’s entrapments (“the evil desires of youth,” v. 22) in favor of “righteousness, faith, love and peace.” (Can you see Paul playing today's video games? I can't--for many reasons!)

*Avoiding quarreling and arguing over things that really don’t matter, including misinterpreted issues that the devil can use to distract people from real spiritual truth (vv. 23-26)

Second Timothy is such a poignant letter. When I read it, I want to dwell over each paragraph, grateful that somehow Paul’s wisdom was preserved to encourage millions of Christians thousands of years later. Somehow, he knew things would get worse before they get better: “But mark this: there will be terrible times in the last days” (3:1).  Then he gives a lengthy list of negative behaviors which—sadly—read like a commentary on our times. They’re people who love pleasure rather than God (3:4). They may blend into their communities, but will they ripen for God’s harvest, even though given the chance? 

FRAGRANCE

Oh, the art of producing artificial flowers! My local craft store has row after row of fake flowers. So lovely to look at. But no fragrance, no life. Just looks. The landscaping at our home wouldn’t make it into a gardening magazine, but we do have a front yard rose area that showcases living color in spring through fall.  Sometimes when I’m outside doing yardwork, somebody walking by will pause and ask about the roses. Often they ask about fragrance, so I invite them to sniff certain ones. I know that those who write descriptions for garden catalogs have intriguing adjectives for a rose sniff-test-- words like “dark,” “sensuous,” or “fruity.” I’m not sure how I’d describe our roses; some bushes are decades old and maybe not as pungent as when new.

Yet, when I cut blooms for a bouquet, I find myself sniffing a rose “just because.” They remind me of how the apostle Paul used the sense of smell to describe a spiritual reality. He said that those who freely and authentically live for Christ spread everywhere “the fragrance of the knowledge of him”—a quality he called “the fragrance of life” (2 Corinthians 2:14, 16).

That phrase--“fragrance of life”—reminds me of analogies in the letter of James, who used many metaphors in his writing. He describes people plagued by doubt as ships tossed in a storm (1:6). Godless rich people, as blossoms that last a day and then are tossed (1:9-11). Spiritual pretenders, as looking mindlessly in a mirror (1:23-25). People with unruly tongues, as horses without bits, ships without rudders, and uncontrolled fires (3:3-6). There’s more: tongues that curse, while boasting to belong to God, as springs capable only of foul, undrinkable water (3:9-12).

I wonder what James would have said about fake flowers, which of course didn’t exist in his time. They’re pretty, but lack fragrance, the pollen bees love, and the ability to reproduce. They're lifeless.

I’m not against fake flowers. On one nightstand I have a bouquet of artificial hydrangeas (my favorite flower which simply doesn’t grow well in my yard). Once or twice a year I hold it under a faucet to wash off the dust. I give it a shake, pat it dry, and put it back in the vase. It’s pretty, but not real. Our broken world needs the fragrant hope of Christ, and we are the living blooms in which He infuses it.

EXCEPTION?

This décor saying I spotted at a local crafts store—“Be the exception”--reminded me of how word meanings can change in a generation. I grew up in times when “being the exception” usually meant flaunting school rules and social conventions. It described kids who got sent to the principal’s office for being negative or rebellious. But a similar word, exceptional, had a more positive spin. It described gifted or hard-working students. One year behind me in high school there was an exceptional teen who, every day after school, practiced the piano for several hours before doing her homework. She became a concert pianist and professor of piano at a large public university. Focused. A good steward of natural abilities she developed with hard work.

So here’s my dilemma. I want to be exceptional, in the sense of wisely developing and using the gifts and abilities God gave me. But I also want to be the exception that doesn’t practice my culture’s negative ways of dealing with discord and stress. Even though two millennia old, the advice that the apostle Peter gave about behavior is still a good measuring rod. He urged the early Christians to be the exception from the godless world around them, and to seek being positively “exceptional” in one’s daily words and actions: “Rid yourself of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind” (1 Peter 2:1).

These aren’t new problems. Nor is the stain of rebellion. It was one of the things that seemed to most grieve the aging, battle-worn apostle Paul as he neared the end of this life. Knowing he’d probably be executed by the Romans, Paul wrote this warning to Timothy, then nurturing the church in Ephesus:

But mark this: There will be terrible times in the last days. People will be lovers of themselves, lovers of money, boastful, proud, abusive, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, without love, unforgiving, slanderous, without self-control, brutal, not lovers of the good, treacherous, rash, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of God—having a form of godliness but denying its power. Have nothing to do with them. (2 Timothy 3:1-5)

What a discouraging list. More discouraging, it describes our times. I take note of these words at the beginning of that quote: “Terrible times in the last days.” And there hasn’t been much improvement over centuries. But Paul suggests a road through this mess, advising believers:

*To pursue purpose, faith, patience, love and endurance such as Paul showed in his sufferings and persecution (3:10-11).

*To expect persecution if you endeavor to live a godly life in Christ Jesus (3:12).

*To trust God to equip you, through His Word, for all life’s negative challenges (3:16-17)

*To endure hardship (4:5)

*To long for Christ’s coming again (4:8).

In other words, to be the exception, as God defines things. It’s the true way to go.

DOES GOOD=GOOD?

I wasn’t sure I entirely agreed with this décor sign for sale at my local crafts store:

Do good and good will come to you.

I remembered the similar thought in Proverbs 16:7: When a man’s ways are pleasing to the LORD, he makes even his enemies to live at peace with him.

One of my former pastors used that verse when preaching from Genesis 33 about the feud between Jacob and Esau. After many years in exile, Jacob had come home and was about to have a dreaded reunion with his twin, Esau, whom he had deceived out of the birthright. The meeting could result in his and his family’s deaths or enslavement. It could have been a rated “R” Hollywood moment with lots of violence. But they met amicably. Enemies at peace.

Few of us will face such a tense moment, but I’ve had my unwanted share of encounters with angry people. Proverbs 16:7 is generally true, but not always. I try to be a person of peace—to do good. But I’ve nursed wounds from emotionally broken people.That’s why I’m glad the apostle Peter wrote such practical letters to new churches. They, too, needed advice on getting along in an angry world. In sharing the wisdom he learned at the feet of Jesus, Peter addressed living with grace.

Good people suffer hard times, Peter wrote, “so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Peter 1:7). In other words, the end of the story hasn’t been published yet. Plus, he adds, persecution should prompt some self-examination: “Rid yourselves of all malice and all deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander of every kind” (2:1). It’s all part of the process of being made fit for God’s kingdom. And even when I’ve examined my heart, sought to make peace with those who oppose me, but am discouraged by their ongoing negatives—I need to remember Christ’s sufferings. The end of the story isn’t yet written.

That comforts me in my interactions with difficult people. I may do good and not get “good” in return. But coals can become diamonds, and Christ-honoring actions won’t go unrewarded. Thus Peter reminded these Christians (and me!) to keep trying to “do good”—to live as representing Christ—so that people “may see your good works and glorify God on the day he visits us” (1 Peter 4:12b).

Which is another, fuller, way of saying, don’t expect instant, wonderful results to your “good works.” It’s not a matter of being good so good can come to you. Rather, it’s walking with Christ in faith, doing “good” in reflecting His character, and trusting Him in this journey to eternity.

SONGSTERS

I hear them before I see them, the quail chirping “Rebecca” as they walk across the narrow wooden fence about four feet away from my office window. Sometimes it’s a Mama Quail with four or five half-grown quail following. “Rebecca, rebecca,” she warns as they teeter. Polite and skittish, their parade makes me smile. Then there are noisy birds, and to encounter them I only need to walk a block and a half to a home where someone has gone all out with bird houses and yard art. It doesn’t photograph well because of the shade, but trust me: I tried counting and gave up at over fifty birdhouses and feeders. In one yard! And the noise! Its nesting tenants are the more vociferous of winged critters.

In summertime, especially, I think of the relationship with nature enjoyed some eight hundred years ago by a simple man we know as St. Francis of Assisi.  He wrote the lyrics to “All Creatures of Our God in King” sometime in the 1200s (yes, 800 years ago) and it was first published in a hymnal in 1623 (yes, nearly 400 years ago). Yet it continues to place high on lists of the world’s most beloved hymns.

Francis was born to a wealthy Italian family in 1182, converting to Christianity at a young age. He served as a soldier in his early years and endured a year as a prisoner of war in central Italy. After a time of personal turmoil, he renounced his earlier life of ease to become an itinerant evangelist to peasants throughout the Mediterranean lands. At 28, he founded the Franciscan Order of Friars, known for adopting his religious beliefs and simple lifestyle that kept him near nature. This was memorialized in a painting by the Italian artist Giotto, showing Francis feeding birds. Francis is said to have written sixty hymns of praise and worship in his desire to encourage church music.

There are many legends associated with his life, including supernatural behavior of animals. In one legend, one day while on a hike he came across a flock of birds.  When they didn’t fly away, he decided to preach them a little sermon about praising their Creator for His protection and provision. Sermon over, they flew away happily. How true this is, we don’t know, but we do have Psalm 148, which tells all creation—the heavenly bodies, the weather, the landscapes, and all living things, to praise the Lord. We now know that scientists have catalogued 5,400 species of singing animals. Francis is also credited with setting up the first Christmas live nativity scene.

The year before he died, Francis was very ill and his vision was failing. It was at this time that he wrote the lyrics to “All Creatures of our God and King,” based on Psalm 148. At his deathbed he requested that Psalm 142 be read to him.  It includes this verse: “When my spirit grows faint within me, it is you who knows my way.”

Our paraphrased English version of this hymn came out about 120 years ago through the efforts of a village rector in England, who prepared it for a children’s choir festival. It was forgotten for a time, then reappeared in an English hymnal in 1906 as a canon arrangement.  

As we continue through the challenges and discouragements of the pandemic, it’s always good to shift gears and sing praises to God.  St. Francis’s hymn would be a good start. Then consider two others about nature:  “All Things Bright and Beautiful” (1848, by the wife of an Anglican bishop in Ireland) and “For the Beauty of the Earth” (1864, by an English scholar).

Even better—get out and take a walk, best in early morning when the birds sing their hearts out.  And just listen.
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Sing along with this "You Tube" presentation with lyrics, featuring pipe organ and congregational singing at the large Grace Community Church in Sun Valley, California:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VdfTekZcgGM

THE LOWDOWN ON LINEN

"What’s linen from?” asked a friend who’d read in the Old Testament about priestly garments of linen. I knew it’s made from flax, but had questions myself!  I learned it’s a flowering grass with white or delicate blue blossoms that grows in about three months to three or four feet high. Today it’s valued for its seeds, fiber, and oils (linseed oil, used as a wood preservative).

In ancient times, the stalks were uprooted and left in the field to dry in the sun. Then they were immersed in water and crushed to beat out fibers which were pulled and twisted into thread. Finally, they were woven into a cloth comfortable in hot and humid climates.

The modern linen I saw at a local fabric store had been blended with cotton to cut down on wrinkles. As I fingered it, I thought of the remarkable ancient craftsmanship that transformed a grass into everyday products.  One source said that besides regular clothing and priestly garments, it was used for nets and measuring lines. At life’s end, linen strips wrapped corpses.

The linen used for priestly garments was sun-bleached as white as possible. The basic garment was a tunic (Lev. 8:7), then came robes dyed in brilliant colors, a turban and extras like bells and breastplates. Each had a symbolic purpose. 

Clerical attire has certainly changed since Bible times, although ministers in some denominations with centuries-old roots still wear special robes to lead worship. Growing up in a liturgical church, I didn’t question how “Sunday-best” was the dress code. It was a matter of respect in coming before a holy God. Similarly in Old Testament times, the Levitical dress-code beginning with a white linen tunic expressed their respect in coming before a holy God.

Psalm 96, which addresses worship, continually mentions "ascribing" to God His worship-worthy attributes, such as His splendor, glory, majesty and strength. Verse 9 remarks, "Worship the LORD in the splendor of His holiness." Of this verse, the late theologian Dr. William McDonald remarked: “The mention of holy garments reminds us that even the clothes we wear when we worship the Lord should be appropriate to the occasion. While it may be true that reverence is primarily a matter of the heart, it is also true that we can express our reverence by our attire.” (1)

The analogy doesn’t end there. The apostle Paul explained that God clothes the repentant sinner with His righteousness—as symbolized by the white linen (2 Corinthians 5:21). When Christ comes again, He will clothe His people with garments of glory: “By the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body” (Philippians 3:21).

The book of Revelation tells of white-robed saints in heaven. Will those robes be made of linen? I don’t think so, because Heaven will be a new and different realm. Yet God saw fit to provide us “earthlings” with a crop—a product of the land—that suggests far more than something to clothe us. The process of making thread to be woven into fabric, requires being crushed and beaten. And that takes me to the Lord Jesus:  “He was crushed for our iniquities” (Isaiah 52:7).

God doesn’t waste a thing, and that includes the still-to-be-discovered truths symbolized by a simple crop: flax, made into linen.

1. Dr. William McDonald, Believer’s Bible Commentary (Nelson, 1985), p.696.