Congregational Prayer

By Pastor of Discipleship Josh Stringer

As we come to our time of prayer, with mercy on our minds, we have much to pray about. It’s good to turn to the Lord and cry for mercy. With regards to the death of George Floyd and all that is happening in Minneapolis, I spoke with my friend – our friend – Steven Lee and asked him how we could be praying. Many of you will remember Steven. He was a pastor here at College Church for several years and is now pastoring at Bethlehem Baptist Church in Minneapolis. Here’s what he said:

“Pray for justice and for the church to shine forth the superior worth of Christ; to minister comfort and the peace of Christ in sadness, grief, pain and fear. For our African American community in their anger, sadness; for first responders, our police and fire fighters as they serve; and for God’s justice to reign in it all. And for him, personally, for wisdom how to shepherd well, to proclaim the truth of God’s Word clearly, and to minister the eternal and life-giving hope of Christ.”

As we pray, I’ll be using Psalm 121 as a guide:

Father, we lift up our eyes to the hills looking for help. From where does it come? Our help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Father, we give you praise for your active work in us, through us, and in all of your Creation. We worship you as the Creator. You are infinitely greater than all other sources of help and power. Our Creator God – we come to you in our time of need and in our distress.

We confess our own weakness. That’s why we ask for help. We confess that when we look at the hills around us, we become angry, frustrated, anxious, fearful, confused. We look within ourselves for strength and answers, or to other sources of authority. We know that ultimately they will come up temporary at best, and empty at worst. Father, we know that you hear us when we pray and we confess these things to you in our weakness and frailty with open hearts and we cry for mercy.

We ask that you would cause us to be reminded of the sacrifice that Jesus made for us, as he cried for mercy on the cross. And it’s because of what he accomplished on the cross that we have indeed received mercy. I pray for anyone listening and watching this morning who hasn’t trusted in Jesus as their Savior, would you mercifully bring new life through saving faith this morning in that person’s heart? For those who have trusted in Christ, we ask for mercy, not to remove condemnation (for we know that there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ!) but mercy from the brokenness we witness around us and the sin that still clings to us from within. In your love, grace, and mercy, bring us closer to Christlikeness, uniting all things in him.

In this, we join with our brothers and sisters in Minneapolis as they gather for worship this morning, we pray for Pastor Steven Lee and other pastors as they preach, that the gospel would be preached in word and deed, across racial lines, across class lines, that the superiority of Jesus would be on display. That beyond the hills, you, Father, the maker of heaven and earth would bring help. That the feet of your people would not be moved – help them to stand firm on the gospel.

We pray for our African American brothers and sisters this morning. Would you meet them in their sadness, grief, anger, and fear? Where earthly justice has failed them so many times, would you draw each heart and mind to your justice and holiness. Where we, their neighbors, have many times failed to love well, would you be their keeper, as the Psalm says? For you are our shade on the right hand. Please, Father, protect each life.

For those of us in the surrounding community, particularly those of us who are white, help us to be loving, good listeners – quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. Help us to mourn with those who mourn. Stir in us the love of Christ to actively embrace our black neighbors, friends, family members - brothers and sisters. Soften hard hearts. Bring repentance where the sin of racist action and inaction has abounded. Cause your Church, which made up of all people groups and skin colors, together, to rise up to display and proclaim the unifying, peace-giving Gospel of Jesus Christ in which there is one body and one Spirit, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God and father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

Father, your Word calls us to trust in you in keeping us from evil and in the keeping of our lives. And so, in your sovereign care of your world, we beg you to bring the peace of Jesus. Through all that has been going on, from the fear and anxiety, angst and anger and loss of life that we’ve experienced from Covid19, and from the killings of Amaud Arbrey, Breonna Taylor, and now George Floyd, keep us from further evil. Protect the lives of those who serve in the line of duty – police and fire fighters. Protect the lives of those who would be harmed because of the color of the skin that you gave them. Preserve the lives of those still fighting and infected by the virus.

As the Psalmist declares, “keep their going out and their coming in from this time forth and forevermore.” These things are bigger than we are and often don’t have the words. We trust you for these things for You are faithful.

We pray, in unity, as you taught us to pray:
Our Father in Heaven, hallowed be your name,
Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors,
Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,
For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever, Amen.

All Things New by Wil Triggs

Have you been missing things lately that used to annoy you? When I moved here from California, I remember thinking one thing I would definitely not miss were the six lane freeways filled with cars moving in both directions. Then came the Hillside Strangler and potholes and seasonal road construction. Pretty soon I was missing those toll-free smooth roads.

Living through this pandemic brings its own batch of little things we miss.

But before we go down the road of waxing nostalgic about the busy narthex or parking in the library lot, or those kiddie crafts week after week, or most seriously missed—standing right next to people in line for Sunday morning coffee from Commons Cafe, I want to know: what’s something new you’ve tried during the pandemic?

For a lot of us, the answer might be Zoom. But don’t reply with that. It’s not new anymore.

One new thing we’re trying in an attempt to hear from you is "the question of the week." We can’t see each other. We definitely can't touch each other. but here’s your chance to answer a question. We’ll compile them to share in our church communications. A different question every week.

Here's the first question: What’s something new you’ve tried during the pandemic?

It could be anything. 

A story in The New York Times the other morning, “The Birds Are Not on Lockdown, and More People Are Watching Them,” provides one answer.

“Bird-watching has surged in popularity this year” the article reports. “According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, birders set a world record on May 9 for Global Big Day, an annual bird-spotting event. Participants using the lab’s eBird platform reported more than two million observations—the most bird sightings documented in a single day—and recorded 6,479 species.”

While it may not be new for him, I've been enjoying the photographs Marr Miller has been posting of the wildflowers he and Mary are seeing on their walks on the trails. That's Marr's photograph of a Prairie Trillium.

In my small group last night, I asked if anyone had been baking bread. I've read that many are curious about it. One person raised her virtual hand and told about a four-ingredient recipe she's using to bake her own bread in her instant pot.

So what about you?

For Mark Caldwell and Dickson Valley Camp a day-camp-only summer is a new thing. “We’ve done overnight camps for many years, but only recently have we done day camps. This year, it’s the only thing we can do. We have had volunteers build hand-washing stations [a pretty creative station as you can see below] and a hand-washing song kids can sing as they wash their hands. The hand-washing song is John 3:16 to the tune of 'Row, row, row your boat.' Our program was already decentralized so we have small family groups for activities. We’ve grown the camp through a network of families. We have a high number of non-church-attending families bringing their kids. People appreciate the Christian focus as opposed to other alternatives. We have a hundred new families a year. For those families, day camp is their new thing. As we get closer and closer to the start of this year’s day camps, questions are coming especially from the new families. The parents are entrusting us and the other families that we are taking the proper precautions.

“Everything the counselors say and do can show that we have a foundation that is beyond the shifting sands of society. We have a firm foundation beyond that. Camps are needed as part of the healing process as we move forward. From the kids’ perspective, just getting out, connecting with other kids and counselors, even with all the restrictions, could be a tremendous opportunity and so much better than what they’ve known these past weeks.”

Let’s pray for the ministry of Dickson Valley’s day camps—for the ministry to children and their parents.

Pastor Moody asked us in last Sunday’s sermon to pray and share the gospel with one person this week. How’s that going? Maybe your attempt is a new approach. We invite you to share that. 

And if you feel like a failure in that department, take heart. We’re all just little pieces of the gospel chain, interconnected in ways that only God can do. Be encouraged by this video of a USC Trojan football player's multiple attempts at sharing his faith. They all seemed like one big fail after the other. Watch his story here on RightNow Media.

Remember that for some people, the “something new” might be God. Imagine that. Pray. Maybe God can use us to help point people to Jesus.

My Hidden Hoarder by Lorraine Triggs

It didn't take this pandemnic to expose my hidden hoarder. That distinction belongs to a low-wattage bare light bulb that hung in the hallway of our apartment in Moscow when we were there in 1993.

The first time it went missing, I assumed it had burnt out and maintenance would replace it. A couple of days later, the bulb was gone, burnt out again? Or more likely removed by another apartment dweller for his entryway, my husband pointed out.

Every evening when we returned from a full day of ministry, I stepped off the elevator, turned down the hall and either breathed a sigh of relief—the light bulb was still there or grumbled because it was gone again.

Strangely enough, I wanted to hoard light bulbs. Why? Well, I never knew night by night whether of not there would be a light bulb there. And by the time we got home, I was tired and didn't want to be missionary flexible. I wanted the light bulb in the socket and shining bright.

It got to the point where I needed a stack of them right inside our apartment door, ready to give one to the woman who zealously guarded the entrance to the apartment building, and apparently, our light bulb as well. We overhead her agruing with someone about the Americans one day, and after that, our bare light bulb stayed put. I guess no one messed with that Babushka. So my hoarder when back into hiding.

But here we are in the middle of this pandemic.

And I find that my hidden hoarder is fond of hoarding more than light bulbs or flour. Under normal cicumstances, two dozen eggs would seem like a lot, but these days, well, you never know, do you? 

And as I think back to the light bulbs on the other side of the world, I realize that there are other kinds of hoarding. I can easily hoard my time, somehow making "me-time" sound spiritual instead of selfish. I turn my focus inward. Well, I self-justifiy, I don't want to burnout or run out of energy, money, light bulbs.

To make things last longer, I tend to fall into a mindset of rationing. Don't use too much of whatever...

If I use less, what I have will last longer. A little goes a long way. Why did I throw out my More with Less Cookbook from the Mennonite Central Committee?

But God doesn't work that way.

A portion of one of the prayers in Wendell Hawley's book A Pastor Prays for His People says: 

Praise be to God, we are never placed on some “quota” system—
You have never said to any of your beloved,
“That’s all the grace you get, lest I run out.”
No, never . . . never!

From his overflowing kindness and abounding grace and mercy, God invites my not-so-hidden hoarder to a feast.

Come to the table and dine. Taste the immeasurable riches of his grace. And that inner hoarder of my mine dwindles under the lavish goodness of God. Goodness that knows no bounds and can't be stopped by any germ or my miserly approach to light bulbs or kindness. When soaking in the light, you don't really need a light bulb anyway.

In this feast, in this light, I am renewed, refreshed and restored.

My Faith Has Found a Resting Place

By H. E. Singley, organist

For we walk by faith, not by sight.

(II Corinthians 5:7, ESV)

And it is impossible to please God without faith. Anyone who wants to come to him must believe that God exists and that he rewards those who sincerely seek him.

(Hebrews 11:6, NLT)

My faith has found a resting place, from guilt my soul is freed;
I trust the ever-living One, his wounds for me shall plead. 

Refrain:
I need no other argument, I need no other plea,
it is enough that Jesus died, and that he died for me. 

 Enough for me that Jesus saves, this ends my fear and doubt;
a sinful soul I come to him, he’ll never cast me out. [Refrain] 

My heart is leaning on the Word, the written Word of God:
salvation by my Savior’s name, salvation thro' his blood. [Refrain] 

My great Physician heals the sick, the lost he came to save;
for me his precious blood he shed, for me his life he gave. [Refrain]

You may well be thinking that there is something different about the second phrase of the poem as it appears here. It is different from how I first learned it. The editors of the Trinity Hymnal made a slight adjustment in the text from the original, “My faith has found a resting place, not in device nor creed,” to “My faith has found a resting place, from guilt my soul is freed.” This subtle but important change reconciles the important role that the historic creeds have in the Church with the compelling positiveness of this Gospel-rich poetry. 

To be certain, the faith we have in Christ supersedes any axiom or premise of human origin. Yet, the historic creeds are succinct summaries of Scripturally founded declarations regarding our faith and its core beliefs. We join Christian believers through many centuries—and each other—when we affirm the sinews of what we together hold to be true.

What’s more, “from guilt my soul is freed” reminds us of Isaiah 6:7—"He touched my lips with it and said, ‘See, this coal has touched your lips. Now your guilt is removed, and your sins are forgiven’” (NLT). Also, Acts 13:39, “And by him [Jesus] everyone who believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses” (ESV).

This hymn by Lidie H. Edmunds, a nom de plume used by Eliza Edmunds Hewitt*, centers on the Gospel. There are several references to Jesus’ sacrificial death for our sin, along with an emphasis on God’s Word (cf. stanza three, “leaning on the written Word of God”). I would like to focus this short essay primarily on the opening phrase, “My faith has found a resting place.”

Faith “shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see” (Hebrews 11:1, NLT). In one of the most uplifting chapters in all of Scripture, Hebrews 11 describes the faith of several notables about whom we know from vivid narratives elsewhere in God’s Word. There are three summaries of these extraordinary individuals in the chapter:

By faith these people overthrew kingdoms, ruled with justice, and received what God had promised them. They shut the mouths of lions, quenched the flames of fire, and escaped death by the edge of the sword. Their weakness was turned to strength. . . . They placed their hope in a better life after the resurrection.

(Hebrews 11:33-34a, b, 35b) 

Another compelling synopsis is in verses 13 and 16.

All these people died still believing what God had promised them. They did not receive what was promised, but they saw it all from a distance and welcomed it. . . . they were looking for a better place, a heavenly homeland. That is why God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. 

Then notice toward the end of the chapter in verse 39: 

All these people earned a good reputation because of their faith yet none of them received all that God had promised. 

It is always beneficial to remind ourselves of our innate human tendency to put our faith in that which we can touch, feel, see or control in some way—with a confident assumption that things are going to proceed smoothly with minimal interruption and a perpetual predictability. The coronavirus pandemic is a stark reminder of misplaced reliance on ourselves or any human institution to “manage” life, to keep our routines as dependable, safe and risk-free as possible.

There is an alternative to the incontrovertibly unknown and ultimately ungovernable human pilgrimage. Henry David Thoreau is not necessarily someone we would hear quoted in church very often; but he did say something that is worth considering when, for instance, we envision a technological fix of some sort to that which otherwise seems beyond solution.

Our inventions are wont to be pretty toys, which distract our attention from serious things.

They are but improved means to an unimproved end . . . . 

The alternative is the “resting place”—the rest—that we can find by living every moment of every day with our faith placed in the “ever-living One,” the One who decidedly offers a very improved end—eternal life in His presence! Jesus invites us, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). Hebrews 4:3a says, “For only we who believe can enter his rest.” Most who will read this have, I’m sure, believed in Christ for salvation. Concurrently, because we’ve trusted in Christ for the forgiveness of sin and an eternal relationship with God, we are confident about what lies beyond this life.

But, what about now, the “not yet?” Can we find rest by intentionally, constantly trusting Him? 

“Long ago you laid the foundation of the earth and made the heavens with your hands. They will perish, but you remain forever; they will wear out like old clothing. You will change them like a garment and discard them. But you are always the same; you will live forever. The children of your people will live in security. Their children’s children will thrive in your presence.”

(Psalm 102:25-28, NLT)

 Heaven and earth will disappear, but my words will never disappear.

(Matthew 24:35, NLT)

IDEAS FOR LISTENING

• Listen for the melody of the hymn-tune throughout.

• There are three stanzas of in music plus one refrain. As you listen, perhaps think of stanzas one, two and three. But, definitely read and think about stanza four!

• Sing the hymn–words AND music–even if you’re by yourself!

____________________________

*Eliza Edmunds Hewitt was a life-long Philadelphian, a Presbyterian, a Sunday School teacher and a writer of poems, several of which were set to music (e.g., “When We All Get to Heaven”). The hymn-tune, Landås, is the name of a neighborhood in Bergen, Norway and is adapted by William J. Kirkpatrick from an operatic melody.

The Widow's Mite and The Missionary's Joy by Wil Triggs

Jesus sat down near the collection box in the Temple and watched as the crowds dropped in their money. Many rich people put in large amounts. Then a poor widow came and dropped in two small coins. Jesus called his disciples to him and said, “I tell you the truth, this poor widow has given more than all the others who are making contributions. For they gave a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she had to live on.”  (Mark 12:41-44, NLT)

Jesus’ observation seems almost absurdly out of step with our world. I mean, what financial planner would tell the widow to give the way Jesus praised her for giving? We don’t expect that kind of giving. It isn’t wise, not to mention that her two small coins wouldn’t get her into members-only events at the temple or get her name engraved on a brick or stone.

Did she give because of the well-run temple? Because she liked the priests? Because of the beauty of the temple building itself? Or did she give because she knew someone who was even worse off than she herself? Had she been waiting to give until the priests did things the way she thought they ought to be done?

The gospel writer described her as a “poor widow.” Two strikes against her. She was the one in need. In just a few years, the apostles would focus on caring for people like her in the newly born church. And a few years later, the temple would be destroyed.

That widow was no more in step with the giving of her own time as with ours. Yet perhaps her greatest need at that moment was what prompted her to give, and it didn’t have anything to do with the temple.  

She wasn’t in step with the world she lived in, but she was in step with the heart of God.

When I served with Russian Ministries and we had summer camp ministries in Russia, I got to know an elderly lady, a retired missionary, who attended College Church. She walked her donation for the camp outreach to the mission's office rather than mail it in. She gave enough to send at least one child to camp. For her, this gift was personal and from the heart.

A few years later, I was getting ready to go on one of our STAMP trips as part of that same camping outreach. The retired missionary lady enthusiastically gave toward the trip.

She wasn’t a widow. She had never been married. As I got to know her, I realized what an amazing and unrecognized lifetime of service she had given to God.

But you kind of had to find that out along the way. She wasn’t interested in people knowing the triumphs of her life—and God had used her overseas in some amazing ways. Now, she wanted me to know that she cared. She was genuinely excited about the kids and wanted to give. The gift she gave was monetary, but a lot more. Her humility, excitement to be a part of God’s work and her spirit of service shined brightly.

And there she was, this time wanting to give her gift not to the mission’s office, but into my hands, to give to the trip.

There are many reasons to give or not give. But the spirit of the widow Jesus praised and this missionary who befriended me amaze me.

The widow Jesus praised wasn’t a parable. She was a real person. She gave real money, the last she had, to a real institution. She would be one of the people we would say ought not to give. But maybe it wasn’t the institution she was giving to at all, but the God of all things, her maker, creator, redeemer and friend.

Where did the widow get her next meal? What happened? Is there ever a time when it’s bad to give more to God?

That retired missionary lady has moved away. I think of her often. She had such joy when she gave her money away. I am confident that if she is still alive, she is more and more like Jesus in what she gives away. And that doesn’t even get at her faithful prayer support for us and many others.

I don’t think they teach this stuff in Bible college or seminary. But Jesus didn’t shy away from it.

Think of the rich young ruler who went away sad because of Jesus' admonition to give his wealth away to the poor. Think of the alabaster jar of pure nard that Judas, the keeper of the money, thought should have been sold and given away to the poor. He thought of it as a terrible waste poured out on Jesus before he paid the ultimate price and gave more than any of us ever will.  And he wasn't the only one.

We were watching a news program a few days ago and the talking heads were talking about how a second stimulus check may be coming.

Really? Probably not, I thought at the time. It’s such a crazy time, isn’t it.

As we watched together, Lorraine said, “If that happens, let’s just give it to the church.”

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Good idea.”

I confess, while her head was going there, I was thinking about using it to get a new front door. If you saw our door, you’d know what I mean. So I don’t have it all figured out. But the spirit of the widow, and the missionary lady, I don’t know . . .

There’s something about giving and living the way they did that doesn’t make sense in this world. Yet their examples are a crying out “Yes” from somewhere that’s not in this here-and-now great and wondrous world, but from a different place than we naturally know.

Like a master washing the feet of his servants.  

Like thousands eating lunch from one boy’s lunch where the baskets of leftovers are far more than the few fish and loaves they started with.

Or like the empty net cast on the other side, filling with so many fish that the net starts to break. That’s crazy. I mean, why?

Most out of step of all, the king of heaven leaving the splendor and wonder of it all to be born in a manger, to die forsaken and alone, some of the last words spilling out of his mouth like the blood from his side, “Forgive them.”

Jesus, help us break the alabaster jar, whatever that means, and pour it out in worship—never looking back, not looking at others, only gazing at you. All for you, sweet carpenter, fisher of people, gentle shepherd. Master. Friend. God who saves us from the cares of this world and walks before us into today and tomorrow and all that is to come.

It Is Well With My Soul

By H. E. Singley, organist

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith,

we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us.

(Romans 5:1, NLT)

Once you were far away from God, but now you have been brought near to him

 through the blood of Christ. For Christ himself has brought peace to us.

(Ephesians 2:13b, 14a, NLT)

The backstory is well-known by many Christian worshipers. Horatio Spafford was a nineteenth-century Presbyterian layman and Chicago attorney who lost much of his material wealth in the great Chicago fire of 1871. Two years later, his wife, Anna, and their four daughters were headed to Europe for a family vacation and were among 313 passengers and crew on a transatlantic voyage aboard the S.S. Ville du Havre. (The ship’s name is the title Philip P. Bliss gave to the music he composed for these words.) On November 22, 1873, the Ville du Havre collided with another vessel on the high seas, splitting in half. All four daughters were numbered with the 226 women, men and children who perished in the quickly sinking ship. After finally arriving in Great Britain, Mrs. Spafford was able to send a telegram to her husband back in Chicago with the terse phrase, “Saved alone.” As he was en route to rendezvous with his wife, Horatio Spafford wrote this hymn, it is said, near where his daughters lost their lives.

When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
"It is well, it is well, with my soul."

Refrain:
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, tho' trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul. (Refrain)

My sin—O the bliss of this glorious thought,
My sin—not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! (Refrain)

And, Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll,
The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend,
"Even so"—it is well with my soul. (Refrain)

Spafford’s poetry speaks of the tranquility of a river, then juxtaposes the turmoil of a sea, thereby suggesting that bewildering uncertainty is endemic to human reality—our “lot.” Stanza two begins with a similarly daunting disclosure—certain contention with Satan, inevitable adversity. (Spafford had first-hand experience!) Halfway through that same stanza, he does an about-face toward the ultimate resolution of our desperate condition, the shedding of Christ’s blood to account for the totality of our unmitigated destitution. Stanza three further elaborates on Christ’s substitutionary death and its all-encompassing extirpation of the foundational and otherwise unsolvable human defect—our sin—ending with a fervent paean of praise!

Stanza four takes us to the apostle Paul’s words in I Thessalonians 4 via II Corinthians 5:

For we live by faith, not by sight.

(II Corinthians 5:7, NIV)

For the Lord himself will come down from heaven with a commanding shout,

with the voice of the archangel, and with the trumpet call of God.

First, the believers who have died will rise from their graves.

 Then, together with them, we who are still alive and remain on the earth

will be caught up in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air.

Then we will be with the Lord forever. So encourage each other with these words.

(I Thessalonians 4:16-18, NLT)

Then, the poetry comes full circle: “It is well, it is well with my soul.” In the midst of the vicissitudes of life, praise the Lord—yes, praise the Lord—it IS well!

And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding,

will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

(Philippians 4:7, ESV)

IDEAS FOR LISTENING

• Listen for the melody of the hymn-tune throughout.

• The music reflects three of the four stanzas, with a brief introduction derived from the refrain.

• The middle stanza portrays the “about-face” mentioned above in connection with stanza three of the poem by means of the shift from the minor mode and an overall ponderous sense to a major key and lighter texture.

• The final stanza of music attempts to reinforce the hope and anticipation which the words convincingly affirm.

• The refrain is heard in its entirety only after the final stanza, ending tranquilly, with quiet confidence.

• Sing the hymn–words AND music, all four stanzas–even if you’re by yourself!

The Mother Who Chose to Die by Wil Triggs

A few years back, our summer book group read Bryan Litfin’s book Getting To Know The Church Fathers. I had not known much about the people featured in this book. So often I don’t look back in church history, and if I do, I don’t look before the Reformation unless it’s at the lives of the apostles or their contemporaries. Bryan's book opened up the people in between, people I never paid attention to before.

There is one person in this book who was not a church father at all, but a church mother.

Since it’s Mother’s Day tomorrow, it seems a good time to ponder the life of Perpetua, a Christian woman who lived in Carthage and died there at the beginning of the third century.

She was a mother, but barely. Her only child was just an infant when she was thrown in prison. After a time of separation from her baby, arrangements were made to get her baby to her so she could nurse and care for the infant while imprisoned.

Separation from her baby put Perpetua in great turmoil, but that was lifted when her child was brought to her. At that, “I grew strong and was relieved from distress and anxiety from my infant and the dungeon became for me as a palace, so that I preferred being there to anywhere else.”

Only 22 at the time of her death, Perpetua had to choose what to sacrifice. If she gave up her faith in Christ, and recanted, she would be freed. She could return to her family, raise her child, probably bear more children and live a long(er) life.

Her father put considerable pressure on her to choose recantation. After all, her baby needed her. He, in his old age, also needed her. These were natural responsibilities and obligations with family and the culture of the time. How could she turn her back on them for this religion?

And the government itself appealed to her maternal nature. 

“Spare the infancy of your boy, and offer sacrifice for the well-being of the emperors,” the governor pleaded.

“I will not do so,” she replied.

This exchange took place with her desperate father among the crowd watching.

“Are you a Christian?” the governor asked.

“Yes,” she answered, “I am a Christian.”

And with that, the death sentence was passed. Her father took his grandson, and she never saw her baby again.

The more difficult sacrifice was the one she chose. Dare we consider what our answer would be were we to face such a question?

The roles we take on in life, even those that seem so core to who we are—what are they in light of the eternal family? I don’t mean to downplay our families, my wife, my son, those dearest to my heart. What a terrible choice. But Jesus? Can he be tossed away for the call of home? Certainly there were others in her time who chose to do that.

I’m not sure who might be on your list of “spiritual mothers,” but I’m fairly certain that Perpetua would not make the list. Her story is so old and strange to modern eyes.

But she knew well the call of Jesus on her life. That call mattered more to her than her father or her child or even her own life. This is a faith worth emulating and a mother worth celebrating. May we never have to face such a choice, but let’s consider Perpetua in light of whatever circumstance we face today.

“Yes. I am a Christian.”

Come Christians Join to Sing

By H. E. Singley, organist

Come, let us sing to the Lord!    

Let us shout joyfully to the Rock of our salvation.

(Psalm 95:1, NLT)

There are several passages in Scripture which begin with the imperative, “Come.”

Come, see the glorious works of the Lord:

See how he brings destruction upon the world.

(Psalm 46:8)

“Come now, let’s settle this,” says the Lord. “Though your sins are

like scarlet, I will make them as white as snow.
Though they are red like crimson, I will make them as white as wool.”

(Isaiah 1:18)

Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary

and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” 

(Matthew 11:28)

He who is the faithful witness to all these things says,

“Yes, I am coming soon!” Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!

(Revelation 22:20)

The psalmist issues the invitation in Psalm 46, the Lord in Isaiah 1, and Jesus in Matthew 11. In Revelation 22, Jesus promises that He is coming soon, at which point John the apostle makes the entreaty, pleading that Jesus come—and come quickly!

In the meantime, in the “not yet,” consider again Psalm 100, verses one and two.

Shout with joy to the Lord, all the earth! Worship the Lord with gladness.    

Come before him, singing with joy.

Consider the verse, “Come before him, singing with joy.” This invitation to come and sing is the emphasis of “Come, Christians, Join to Sing.”

Come, Christians, join to sing Alleluia! Amen!
Loud praise to Christ our King; Alleluia! Amen!
Let all, with heart and voice, before His throne rejoice;
Praise is His gracious choice: Alleluia! Amen!

Come, lift your hearts on high, Alleluia! Amen!
Let praises fill the sky; Alleluia! Amen!
He is our Guide and Friend; to us He’ll condescend;
His love shall never end: Alleluia! Amen!

Praise yet our Christ again, Alleluia! Amen!
Life shall not end the strain; Alleluia! Amen!
On heaven’s blissful shore His goodness we’ll adore,
Singing forevermore, “Alleluia! Amen!”

Poet Christian Henry Bateman was a nineteenth-century English pastor who began his service in the Moravian Church. While still in his thirties, he pastored three Congregational churches in Scotland and England. When in his fifties, he was ordained in the Church of England, serving three different parishes. “Come, Christians, Join to Sing” was part of a hymnal this pastor edited, Sacred Melodies for Sabbath Schools and Families, which had an influential and widespread role in Sunday Schools in Scotland. In its original presentation, the text began, “Come, Children, Join to Sing.” The hymn-tune, Madrid, is designated as a traditional Spanish melody with no composer identified.

 Here, we have a simple text of praise—“loud praise”—to Christ and is an invitation to all Christians to engage “heart and voice,” to “fill the sky” with praise to our King, our Guide and our Friend—the one who, in truth, did “condescend” (cf. Philippians 2:6-8) and whose love for us “shall never end.” Like Christ’s unending love, our praise does not end when our earthly sojourn is completed but endures with “singing forevermore” in eternity.

 This theme of praise is for all Christians. Some say, “But, I can’t sing.” The late Don Hustad, chairman of the music department of Moody Bible Institute, organist for Billy Graham’s crusades in the 1960s, professor of church music at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and editor of numerous hymnals, once said that the point is not whether you can sing, but that as a redeemed child of God,  you have a song!

He has given me a new song to sing,    

a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see what he has done and be amazed.    

They will put their trust in the Lord.

(Psalm 40:3)

Hustad writes, “[This] new song was a different [emphasis added] song—a song of victory and praise—as compared to the earlier song of defeat and lament.” (Hustad, True Worship, p. 130).

He also once said that the only music that the Church cannot do without is congregational song. (Even a choir and any other group of musicians or soloists are best understood as an extension of the congregation in the context of public worship!)

In Music through the Eyes of Faith, Harold Best writes:

Corporate singing and hymnody in all of its forms, types, and presentational modes . . . . is the heart of all church music, therefore the most important. Congregational song is not only primary because it is corporate. Of equal importance, in the union of text and music, is that the entire worshiping body is given full responsibility for singing to and about God and proclaiming the gospel. This further implies—and the rich history of hymnody has proven it possible—that the body of hymnody employed by any church is incomplete until, by constant use, it discloses the entire counsel of God. In other words, a congregation is just as responsible to sing the gospel as the preachers are to preach it.[Emphasis added.]

So, come, Christians, join in song! Let all—every man, woman and child—rejoice! Alleluia! Amen!

Come, let us worship and bow down.

Let us kneel before the Lord our maker for he is our God.

• Listen for the melody of the hymn-tune throughout.

• There are three stanzas of text and the equivalent in music.

• Sing the hymn–words AND music–even if you’re by yourself!