JUST COME

Part of a monthly series on the stories behind beloved hymns.

It's a sad cliche, but when some people get old and sick, they get cranky.  Such was the situation that eventually birthed one of the most beloved invitation hymns, "Just as I Am." No doubt you have watched Billy Graham crusades on television and heard this hymn featured as inquirers came forward. But there's a story behind the hymn. Its author, Charlotte Elliott, born in 1789, was enjoying a great life as a portrait artist and writer of humorous verse, living in Brighton, England. She was popular in social circles where religion was not mentioned. But in her early thirties she became very ill and depressed.

One of her visitors at this time of trial was a noted evangelist from Switzerland. Dr. Caesar Malan.  As he ate dinner with her and her family, Charlotte lost her temper, railing against God and family.  Embarrassed, her family quickly left, leaving Dr. Malan alone with Charlotte.  He didn't mince his words.  He remarked that she was holding onto hate and anger because she had nothing else in the world to cling to. That's why she was sour, bitter, and resentful.  She asked, "What's your cure?" He replied, "The faith you are trying to despise."

A few days later, she realized she needed to apologize to Dr. Malan. In doing so, she remarked that she needed to clean up some things in her life before becoming a Christian. The evangelist looked at her and said, “You must come just as you are, a sinner, to the Lamb of God that taketh away the sin of the world.” That day, May 9, 1822, she prayed to become a Christian. Her sister said for the rest of Charlotte’s life, she cherished that date as “the birthday of her soul to true spiritual life and peace.”

One day about a dozen years later, in 1836, she was alone in her brother’s home while the rest of the family was out preparing for a fund-raising bazaar. As an invalid, there wasn’t much she could do there. But she started thinking about the day she prayed to become a Christian, coming “just as I am” to the Lord. The lyrics came to her almost effortlessly. That year they’d be published in was called “The Invalid’s Hymn Book,” which included 115 of her original works. The book was sold to raise money for a project of her brother, a pastor.  He wanted to build a school for the children of poor pastors in Brighton, England.

Miss Elliott lived to be 82, writing about 160 hymns and marking her as one of England’s finest women hymn-writers. All that time, she endured sickness. One time she wrote (as you wade through it, remember it’s in the wordy prose of her era):

“He knows, and He alone, what it is, day after day, hour after hour, to fight against bodily feelings of almost overpowering weakness, languor and exhaustion, to resolve not to yield to slothfulness, depression and instability, such as the body causes me to long to indulge, but to rise every morning determined to take for my motto, ‘If a man will come after Me, let him deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow Me.’” 

Another time she wrote, “God sees, God guides, God guards me.  His grace surrounds me, and His voice continually bids me to be happy and holy in His service just as I am.” It’s said that after her death, friends and family found in her personal papers more than a thousand letters from people around the world expressing how much “Just as I am” had meant to them. By the way, the tune that was eventually matched to Miss Elliot’s hymn-poem was composed by an American, William Bradbury, also known for composing the music for the lyrics of hymns like “He Leadeth Me,” “Jesus Loves Me,” “Sweet Hour of Prayer,” and “The Solid Rock.”

Who knows how many millions have responded to invitations to “come just as you are”?  Even if you’re depressed, cranky, out of sorts, doubting…. God has seen it all. He says, simply, come: “Whoever comes to Me, I will never drive away” (John 6:37).

Choir with scenic background and words for sing-along:

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=%22Just+as+I+am%22+you+tube&docid=608040418539604928&mid=3D87CCC9DAC50E009D1F3D87CCC9DAC50E009D1F&view=detail&FORM=VIRE

George Beverly Shea (of Billy Graham crusades) sings:

https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=%22Just+as+I+am%22+you+tube&&view=detail&mid=855503426445B7905871855503426445B7905871&rvsmid=3D87CCC9DAC50E009D1F3D87CCC9DAC50E009D1F&FORM=VDQVAP

LEGACY

It’s ironic that even though my grandfather wasn’t born with the proverbial “silver spoon” in his mouth—meaning born into wealth—it’s a silver spoon that helps me remember him.  It was among family treasures that came to me after my parents died, and I’m grateful there was a note telling me of its significance.

Martinus (Martin) Berge was born in Norway in 1882. His family had a farm on the steep hillside above one of Norway’s famed fjords. However, because farmable land was so scarce, it would be inherited by the oldest son—and that wasn’t him. A kind person paid his way to carpentry school where he learned a valuable trade. He also served in Norway’s army, which had been ramped up for a possible conflict with Sweden. That didn’t happen, but his marksmanship skills earned him a special prize of that day: a silver spoon. I can’t verify it in my copies of family history, but I heard it was presented him by the king of Norway.

There was also a woman he loved...but her father didn’t think Martinus was wealthy enough to support her. Marriage hopes dashed, in 1906 he immigrated to America, hoping for a fresh start. His carpentry skills served him well as he eventually homesteaded in the drylands of Eastern Montana, where he met and married Ethel Corinne Norstad, a local woman with a bright smile and one leg shorter than the other from polio.  They would have ten children (including the last one, stillborn).  My mother was the firstborn in 1919, meaning she was a young teen when the Depression came upon their large, impoverished family and she pulled her share of the daily survival tasks.

I have no information about my grandfather’s spiritual walk, just that the local Lutheran church was the community’s social and spiritual center and his family was a part of that. He would die at 65 just two months after my birth two states away. He never saw me.

I have pictures and a silver spoon to remind me of that heritage. But I’ve been thinking lately of other parts of my heritage that came to me as a young adult. Caring pastors and their wives, and godly older people, all helped shape who I am in Christ today through their counsel and prayers.  I think of them whenever I come to 1 Peter 2:9: “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.”

Today, when I think of my grandfather, I consider his heartbreak as a young man and the courageous decision to start all over in a foreign land. That’s what God wants to do: give us  fresh starts in our disappointments so that we can declare His praises in the light of His love.

CROWNED

A recent birthday tradition at our house is having the birthday person wear a crown. Ultra fancy—paper—free from a local burger drive-in. At one recent birthday, our youngest grandson decided he wanted to wear Papa’s honorary crown. Down it went to his shoulders. Yes, I could have adjusted it for him with the pre-cut notches, but we’d had our fun and he decided he’d rather eat cake than don crown.

Even though this country isn’t a monarchy, we seem to have a lingering fascination with royal things. Witness the number of young women who vie for the title of “Miss-Something” or some other honor with a tiara (like homecoming queen). Or the little girls for whom "pretend princess" is part of their imaginative play. 

Probably one of the most famous crowns of our times is the magnificent British Imperial State Crown, refashioned for Queen Elizabeth II in 1953. It’s heavy: more than two pounds of gold and studded with more than 3,000 diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, rubies, and pearls.

But the King of Kings had only a crude, piercing crown during His time on this planet. One of painful thorns, slammed down on His head hours before His crucifixion.

Here is the mystery: that God’s Son should endure thorns, while His followers can look forward to heaven’s “forever” crown. Scripture names four:

*The crown of righteousness—for believers looking forward to Christ’s return.  Like Paul, who said as he suspected a martyr’s death wasn’t too far ahead, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.  Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:7-8).

*The crown of life—cast in the crucible of trials, for those who allow the love of God to reign in their hearts and sustain them, even to death (James 1:12, Revelation 2:10).

*The crown of rejoicing—for people won to the Lord (2 Thessalonians 2:19, Philippians 4:1).

*The crown of glory—for those faithful in the Lord’s work. Peter (a pastor himself) wrote: “And when the Chief Shepherd appears, you will receive the crown of glory that will never fade away” (1 Peter 5:4).

Crowns are not for the greedy. In John’s vision of Heaven in Revelation, we’re given a glimpse into heaven’s throne room. There, Almighty God is surrounded by twenty-four elders who remove their crowns and lay them before Him, declaring, “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being” (Rev. 4:11).

“Crown Him with many crowns!” wrote hymnist Matthew Bridges. “Crown Him Lord of All,” declares the hymn by Edward Perronet and John Rippon. And these words from Isaac Newton: “Endless praises crown His head.”

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SQUEEZED

How many weeks had this tube of toothpaste provided what we needed? I couldn’t remember as I tried to squeeze out the last dab to brush my teeth. I knew we had a fresh tube ready to replace it. But as I pushed the dollop onto my toothbrush, I thought, this is how we’re living today—under great pressure, hoping we’ll have what it takes to get through this day, this week, this month, and more.

I was reminded of how Paul admitted to similar depletion in his exhausting missionary journeys.  He wrote the Corinthian church regarding ministry in “Asia” (today’s northern Turkey): “We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life” (2 Corinthians 1:8). This is the same man who mentioned times he had great need as well as “enough,” sometimes well-fed, but sometimes hungry, sometimes having enough to live, and sometimes living in want (Philippians 4:12).  But he’d learned “The Secret”—that he could be content in any and every situation because “I can do everything through Him who gives me strength” (v. 13).

Feeling the “squeeze” as a Christian in a non-Christian world was normal for early believers. Another church leader, Peter, had to remind people that enduring a “painful trial” didn’t mean they were following the wrong Leader.  If they were insulted for being Christians, he said, “you are blessed, for the spirit of glory and of God rests on you” (1 Peter 4:14). But make sure, he added, that you don’t have “murderer, thief or any other kind of criminal, or even a meddler” in your resume.  Such behavior, as unconfessed sin, did not belong in the Christian’s lifestyle.

Yes, life can be hard. Paul used strong words to describe feeling “squeezed out”:  hard-pressed, perplexed, persecuted, struck down (2 Corinthians 4:8). Yet it’s these very times and experiences that are building our faith:

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:17-18).

Those are worthy words to write out on a 3x5 card and post somewhere you can see and memorize it. Maybe even the bathroom mirror, right above that steadily depleting tube of toothpaste.

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.