BUCKET LISTS

In our times, a “bucket list” is defined as something that we want to do before a certain deadline—perhaps before we die. That's why we read about 90-year-olds tandem sky-diving or going up in a hot air balloon. Or maybe their list includes mending tattered relationships, so they can pass away with a clear conscience. In Old Testament times, the spiritual buckets required folks to render enough offerings or acts of penance in hopes they'd be forgiven their sins and get right with God. By the time of Martin Luther (early 1500s) the church had lots of money-making rules to take care of bruised consciences. And Luther had a problem with that. He felt weighed down by his sin (even as a monk—a real-life “church guy”) and didn't know if he was good enough for God.

Then one day he read Romans 1:17

Die Gerechten werden aus dem Glauben leben. “The righteous shall live by faith.”

Nothing about having to earn it. It came by faith. A gift. And from then on, he risked his life to teach what Scripture teaches, birthing the Protestant movement. And this wasn't just a New Testament concept, for in writing that, the apostle Paul had reached back into an obscure Old Testament prophet, Habakkuk (2:14), to proclaim the forward-looking truth of the mission of Jesus Christ, that “salvation” is a gift, not something earned.

Habakkuk's name means “embrace” or “ardent embrace”--which has been taken to imply “wrestler” or big-time hugger. He had “wrestled” himself with his nation's plight. The wicked, strong, proud Chaldeans were getting the upper hand and ready to overthrow the southern kingdom of Judah. God answers that yes, they will prevail, but not forever. Judgment will eventually come. Our role is to trust and obey. Yes, amid the failures of Old Testament laws, and the threats of vile enemies--the extravagant hope of a Savior.

For a lot of people, the “minor prophets” like Habakkuk are hard to understand and boring. There's so much warfare and questioning and plain old doubt. But Habakkuk, fifth to the last of the Old Testament prophets, looks toward the dawn of hope that erupts in full glory with the birth of a Savior. As he wrote, things looked very dim. Crops were failing: figs, grapes, olive. Ditto livestock. But he looked up: “The Sovereign Lord is my strength! He makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights!” (v. 3:19).

It's also the vibrant, hopeful New Testament message: Jesus died for my sins. I am forgiven. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!

TASTE AND SEE

I'd stirred up some brownies from a box mix and could not resist a childhood pleasure—of licking the spoon and spatula. Yum, yum. Into the oven a pan would go, later to bear “number” candles for my son's latest birthday. That's right, brownies instead of a cake. His little boys eagerly tasted them and declared they were good!

I think of that sensory pleasure when I read Psalm 34:8:

Taste and see that the LORD is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him.

As children, when confronted by a new and strange food, we'd often be told, “Taste it, you'll like it.” That wasn't always true for limited and inexperienced palates! (Definitely NOT true of my first experience with liver!) But we often use the same ruse in introducing people to Christ. “Give Jesus a try—you'll like Him.” The problem is that Jesus isn't like the food samples offered by ladies in smocks and hairnets at the local big-box store. He's not in competition with another “product.” He is the Way, the Truth, and the Life—the only way to truly know God (John 14:6).

“Taste and see” is a warm invitation to know the living God—not a product evaluation. Once in a vital relationship with Jesus, we understand. And it gets better.

As a pre-teen introduced to the church sacraments, “communion” seemed such a mature mystery. At that time, my family attended a liturgical church where we came to the semi-circular altar rail, and the pastor served each of us: “This is the body and blood of Jesus.” I remember gripping the communion rail, trying to bridge the gap between something that tasted and Someone who sacrificed. As I grew and participated in communion services in other denominations, that mystery remained. And even though churches differ in how to explain this holy moment with long, important words, the bottom line seems to be this: we remember. The cross. Gratitude for being loved so much, for Him to endure so great a painful and sacrificial death.

Perhaps “taste and see” is the right way to phrase it. We can't experience Christ by looking in from the outside, no more than I could savor the chocolate left in the mixing bowl by leaving it untouched on the kitchen counter. Christ is not a display. He is a lifestyle, one defined and empowered by an undeserved, prophesied, willingly-entered-into and lovingly completed Death to conquer the Enemy's grip. His gasped words, “It is finished,” rocked across the millennia of history.

We taste...and know...that He is good. “Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him” (Psalm 34:8). We know through how choices play out in circumstances and relationships. And we know through that deep, inexplicable sense that Jesus is, indeed, the Presence within that truly satisfies.

In the church I now attend, communion is passed in trays down the rows, not served a few at a time at the altar rail. As I hold the little cup and wafer, I remember, and ask God to again make this a holy moment: “This is MY body, given for you, MY blood, shed for you.” I am to taste and know that He is good.

RESTING

 A monthly series on a great hymn of the faith

J. Hudson Taylor, known for his vision to evangelize all of China, had his share of faith-discouraging hard times. That especially included the trials and losses of the 1899-1900 “Boxer Rebellion,” so named because the Chinese rebels were known for their boxing and martial arts skills. They killed nearly eighty of Taylor's missionaries during that bloody time.

One of the slain missionaries was brother to Jean Pigott, an Irish poet and hymn lyricist. Though she lived to only age 37, her legacy included the lyrics to “Jesus, I am Resting, Resting.” That hymn reportedly brought Taylor great comfort during his greatest trials as a missionary leader. It's said that when the worries and losses of leading the mission nearly overwhelmed him, he'd go to his little reed organ and sing the hymn that expressed his greatest need.

The hymn also expressed in music and lyrics the Biblical truths from John 15, about abiding in Christ—illustrated by vines “abiding in” the branch (Jesus) and finding their strength there. A fellow missionary had written Hudson a note of biblical encouragement, sharing how he'd come to realize the power of “abiding” in his own struggles. The friend wrote: “But how to get faith strengthened? Not by striving after faith but by resting on the Faithful One.”

The hymn impacted Taylor so much that he often had his missionaries sing it with him. It didn't take away the bloody political problem. It's estimated that 100,000 died (including 200-250 foreigners, mostly Christian missionaries) during the Boxer Rebellion. But the hymn lifted their eyes from the discouraging political situation to the One who created and called them, and Who promised eternal life.

The words that Miss Pigott used to express “abiding” are worth thinking about. She wrote about resting in the Lord, gazing on Him, being satisfied at the deepest level through contemplating His presence and gifts. The hymn begins:

Jesus, I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art;

I am finding out the greatness of thy loving heart.

Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee, And thy beauty fills my soul,

For by thy transforming power, Thou hast made me whole.

At least two tunes are associated with this hymn. This video features a menu's chorus singing it with the traditional music.

Jesus I am Resting, Resting - Bing video

The other tune with beautiful scenery can be found here:

Jesus, I am resting - Bing video

JUST LOWLY SPUDS

We'd gotten a bag of potatoes that were rejected by the produce company for size, including this mammoth one that I decided to name “Bud the Spud” before I peeled, cooked, and mashed it for dinner. I gave it some fake “eyes” (though it had a few of its own, au natural) for its portrait....and thought of a game from my 1950s childhood that featured a plastic potato. The aim of the “Mr. Potato Head” game was to decorate it with all sorts of plastic “items,” like mustaches and hairdos. I guess, the uglier the better. But don't laugh: those half-a-century-ago game spuds sell now for $175-225 on resell sites. I find that... incredible.

I guess I shouldn't, as there's something in our culture that thinks “the bigger, the better.” The more luxurious, the lovelier. The flashier, the favored. The more “decorated” (as in military medals or academic degrees), the more desirable.

Paul turned that tendency upside down when he described what should characterize a Christian:

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. (Romans 12:3)

He went on to describe the various ways Christians live out their faith, according to the “giftedness” with which God has endowed them. Some are gifted in declaring God's truth. Others serve, teach, encourage, share resources with those in need, lead, and show mercy (vv. 6b-8).

The walls of my little office/sewing room have some award certificates given me as a writer and speaker. The recognition was affirming, but I have learned that they aren't the whole picture of God's call on my life. Some days I really feel like a lumpy old potato, wondering if God can still use me. Then I remember: He specializes in new recipes as He “grows” a servant. In my cooking life, I can transform a “spud” with recipes for baking/twice-baked, scalloped, mashed, hash-browned, and fried. Similarly, God knows what's best for the rest of my years on earth.

And who knows what God can do through the raw material of a human being? Pastor Charles Stanley of our times has said, “God takes full responsibility for the life wholly devoted to him.” Nineteenth century evangelist D.L. Moody said, “The world has yet to see what God can do with a man fully consecrated to him. By God's help, I aim to be that man.” Missionary martyr Jim Elliot wrote in his journal: “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”

Our culture tends to elevate and even worship celebrities. That's not God's usual way of doing things. He seems to delight in reaching down into a mesh sack and pulling out the most unlikely candidate to prepare for His work. Like me.

Curious about the world's biggest potato? Here's a whopper that looks like a curled-up gnome:

https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/us/giant-potato-may-have-smashed-the-world-record/ar-AAQmFQk

BOOSTER SEAT

The grand-boys had come for dinner, and as little Jimmy (then 4 ½) stood by “his” chair, he touched the strapped-in “booster chair” and said, “Nana, I don't need this anymore.” Oh, another milestone of growth. First, he was a babe in arms. Then he sat in a high-chair where he slopped his food all over the tray. Finally, he was promoted to the “big people table” in a booster seat next to his brothers, with his own plastic dishes and place mat.

Hearing his request, I unstrapped and removed the booster, and he sat down, way down, so that his chin was almost even with the tabletop. Knowing he wouldn't want to resume the “booster seat” era, I found a thin foam pillow for him to sit on to give him a little height. That suited him just fine. Growing up with stair-step older brothers, he's tried hard to keep up with them. And even a little matter of outgrowing the booster seat was important to him.

Someday, even, he will grow out of the “foam pillow” boost, and his chin will steadily rise from table-level. Someday, that chin will have whiskers! I'm not sure I'll still be around for that, but for now, I'm glad I can encourage his desire to “not be a baby anymore.”

Later on, that incident got me thinking about “baby Christians” and the need to grow past the basics of accepting Jesus' death for our sins, and growing in the faith. One of my spiritual mentors years ago (a godly senior – the age I am now!) challenged me with her faith-walk and consistent scripture memory program. For some reason, this verse she recited to me—with a tear in the corner of her eye-- stands out from all the others:

But grow in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever. Amen. 2 Peter 3:18 (KJV)

Even at her age, this godly woman didn't consider herself Christian "enough” to coast with her current faith-walk. She was always growing, always praying, always reading and memorizing scripture. And it showed—in her eternal confidence and compassion for her family and the bigger needs of the world. She was into the “real meat” of scripture and into the “real heart” of prayer. I loved her and learned from her.

I think her distinctive spiritual character was that she loved her Jesus and she loved the scriptures. Her Bible was so well-used that it seemed molded to her lap. Such intimacy with God's Word doesn't come from haphazard reading or a quickie in a devotional. As I observe today's media culture (computer/smart phone addiction to gaming, social sites, other entertainment) capture the hearts of this next generation, I wonder: where will be the spiritual giants? Will they succeed in saying “no” to excesses of entertaining videos or social media to cultivate the most important relationship of all—that with the Lord Jesus? Will they grow out of the “baby habits” of a snitch of scripture here or there (if any) and really “chew” on mature spiritual food? Will their lives show it?

Such questions I ask myself: have I moved on from baby food to real spiritual meat? Is it making a difference in my life? Does scripture “give me a boost” to love my Savior even more?

NOTE-WORTHY

A "trinity" of music notes--a gift
I keep on my piano

Often when I come to my “quiet time” place, an old hymn starts running through my mind: “Jesus, what a friend of sinners, Jesus lover of my soul.” Faith in a loving, omnipotent God—who loves me despite my flaws—helps me personalize those lyrics woven long ago into my faith-walk. I'd noticed in hymnals that the tune carried the name “Hyfrydol,” whatever that meant. Little did I realize what a big impact that gentle tune, now more than a hundred years old, has made on Christian music.

The name (from Welsh) means “lovely, cheerful or melodious,” and the tune came from the heart of Rowland Hugh Prichard (1811-1887), when the Welsh textile worker and amateur musician was only about twenty years old. Who would have thought that a “tender's assistant” in a Welsh flannel manufacturing factory would have such a second faith-influenced avocation? But the reason may trace to the 1859 Welsh revival, when some 110,000 conversions changed the nation's spiritual culture. He also published a children's song book called “Singer's Friend.”

But a tune needs words to become a song or hymn. Those matched to “Hyfrydol” have included these:

1866: Scottish businessman William Chatterton Dix (he sold marine insurance) was also a prolific hymn-verse writer, attaching the tune to “Alleluia, Sing to Jesus.”

1875: The “Hyfrydol” tune was applied to Methodist Charles Wesley's classic 1744 Advent poem “Come Thou Long Expected Jesus.” It was also later matched to his 1747 “Love Divine, All Loves Excelling.”

1876: Philip Bliss, prolific Gospel musician associated with evangelist D.L. Moody, used the tune for his “I Will Sing of My Redeemer.”

1886: Baptist minister Francis Rowley penned “I Will Sing the Wondrous Story,” which has two music matches in hymnals, one tune by Peter Billhorn and the other Hyfrydol.

1910: John Wilbur Chapman, a Presbyterian evangelist who traveled with a gospel singer and also preached with the legendary Dwight Moody, penned “Our Great Savior” (also known as “Jesus, What a Friend of Sinners”).

“Hyfrydol” is certainly not the only versatile hymn tune out there. But learning who has adopted it to meaningful lyrics has only deepened my appreciation for how God uses musicians and lyricists—in tandem or perhaps separated by years—to bring glory to Himself. Those partnerships transcended their times, and even come to my corner of the universe when I sit down to focus on our amazing Creator-God and Savior.

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Enjoy a men's choir in Wales sing a “Hyfrydol” hymn in the Welsh language:

PendyrusChoir - Hyfrydol - YouTube

PRECIOUS....

Part of a monthly series on a hymn of the faith.

Precious Lord, take my hand. If just those five words set your heart to humming a tune, and recalling the rest of the words, then you've looked briefly into the broken heart of a well-known blues musician. His name was Thomas A. Dorsey (not to be confused with the big-band leader Tommy Dorsey).

He was born in the small Georgia town of Villa Rica, about 20 miles west of Atlanta, Georgia, in 1899. His father was a Black revivalist preacher and his mother a church organist. There he heard the melodies handed down from slaves with their “moaning” styles with elongated notes and embellishments. When the family moved to Atlanta, Thomas became enamored with the “blues” music style. Before long, he was playing in night clubs, including some “speakeasies” connected to the mob bosses. Before long, he moved to Chicago where he rose in the blues performance culture.

When his mother saw him swallowed up by secular music, she repeatedly urged him to turn back and serve the Lord. Yet he ignored her counsel, and often worked around the clock to meet the demands for his type of music. He suffered what is believed to be a mental breakdown; his mother nursed him back to health, but he went right back to paid jazz and blues jobs. Again, his health broke. His sister took him to a church where he experienced a supernatural healing.

This time, he tried to incorporate his new style of music—with blues and jazz syncopation—into church worship services. But it didn't match the more conservative hymns that African-American churches were singing at that time.

He had married and he and his wife were expecting their first baby. She was near her delivery date when he needed to travel to lead a choir event in Indianapolis. While on the platform, he was handed a telegram telling him his wife and baby had died. Coming home, inconsolable in his loss, he eventually went to a piano. In what he described as a mystical inspiration, he began to play a melody and found words to go with it. Later, Dorsey would claim that his song, “Precious Lord, Take My Hand,” came from God Himself. It would be performed by Mahalia Jackson, and was a favorite of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

Another of his 3,000 songs (a third of them Gospel) to become well-known was “Peace in the Valley.”

Dorsey eventually took a job at Chicago's Pilgrim Baptist Church where he organized one of the first Gospel choirs. He would serve there from 1932 until the late 1970s, introducing Black Gospel audience participation like clapping, stomping and shouting. He also started a Gospel publishing house for African American composers. Then came a national organization for Gospel choirs and choruses that adapted the “Gospel blues” style.

He later remarried and had a son and daughter, but continued a hectic music performance schedule in the U.S. and overseas. By the 1970s he began to slow down and showed symptoms of Alzheimer's disease. He would die in Chicago at age 93 in 1993, reportedly while listening to music on a “Walkman.”

For listening, one of many YouTube videos of this poignant song:

Joey+Rory - Take My Hand, Precious Lord (Live) - YouTube