"All Things Well" {Greatest Hits}

Here is another top 5 post from my almost-decade of blogging here. May the Lord bless it to your spirit. Grace and peace to you in Jesus,

tinuviel

From time to time, usually when my pain spikes and I can't pinpoint any particular misbehavior on my part which caused it, the what ifs attack. What if the doctor has misdiagnosed my pain? What if the long diagnostic delay has made this permanent? What if the medicines are more harm than help?

A friend and new breast cancer survivor tells me she thinks these anxieties come with the territory of prolonged or chronic illness. For her, every new twinge could be the first warning that the cancer has returned. For both of us, some of these questions are legitimate areas of further medical investigation.

For that reason, two weeks ago I sought a second opinion on a key aspect of my care. Our conversation and the wide variety of tests ordered seem to corroborate some of my concerns, particularly the one about the accuracy of a key element of my medical history.

This raises a new sort of what if, one I had swept under the rug of my thoughts until now. Really, I don't know anything for certain until all the test results are in and the doctor herself interprets them to me. It is still in the realm of possibility, however, that the primary diagnosis which has guided medical decisions for a decade will be revised or even replaced.

That said, I do already know that my what ifs are generally neither helpful nor faithful. If God is sovereign and loving, as the Bible teaches and I believe, no illness or physician error, if that should prove the case, can touch me without His permission. If He has permitted difficulty, it is for my good, for the building up of the body of Christ, and for His glory. He is trustworthy.

Sometimes when the what ifs attack, testimony from someone who has already walked a similar path can penetrate my troubled emotions better than abstract truth. The dominance of narrative in the Spirit-breathed Scriptures makes me think God designed us this way. One day recently, American hymnist Fanny Crosby's witness out of her lifelong blindness provided the help I needed.

Before Fanny Crosby had reached two months of age, a common cold resulted in permanent blindness when a newcomer to the town treated her in the stead of the regular family physician, who was unavailable at the time. The stranger turned out to be an impostor without any medical training whatever and left town, never to be heard from again.

Concerning this tragedy, Miss Crosby wrote, "In more than eighty-five years, I have not for a moment felt a spark of resentment against him, for I have always believed from my youth up that the good Lord, in His infinite mercy, by this means consecrated me to the work that I am still permitted to do" (Smith and Carlson, Favorite Women Hymn Writers, 32).

What work was that? Teaching at a school for the blind in New York City, becoming the first woman to speak before Congress, befriending Presidents, writing a prodigious quantity of poems and later hymns, and serving the poor. "Indefatigable" comes to mind when I read of her life.

On another note, also from Miss Crosby, these words on prayer also strengthened feeble knees to persist in intercession whether or not I can see any results:

In one of her last messages, she said, "God will answer your prayers better than you think. Of course, one will not always get exactly what he has asked for. . . .  We all have sorrows and disappointments, but one must never forget that, if commended to God, they will issue in good. . . .  His own solution is far better than any we could conceive" (Ibid., 37). 

One of my favorites of her very many hymns is the following one on God's guidance throughout our lives. For some reason, I have never sung it in church that I recall but made its acquaintance instead through the Rich Mullins recording from The World As Best As I Remember It, Vol. 2. (See below for a link to listen on YouTube.) Whether the hymn is new or familiar to you, I pray that you find Miss Crosby's words still speak to your particular need and what ifs today. Jesus doeth all things well, friend. Let's remember how He has done so for us and share our stories with each other.

All the way my Savior leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well;
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.

All the way my Savior leads me,
Cheers each winding path I tread;
Gives me grace for every trial,
Feeds me with the living Bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
And my soul athirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see;
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see.

All the way my Savior leads me
O the fullness of His love!
Perfect rest to me is promised
In my Father’s house above.
When my spirit, clothed immortal,
Wings its flight to realms of day
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way;
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way.

Love Come Down: A Prayer for the Fourth Sunday of Advent

In this the love of God was made manifest among us,

that God sent his only Son into the world,

so that we might live through him.

In this is love, not that we have loved God

but that he loved us

and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.

1 John 4:9-10

Love divine, all loves excelling,

Joy of heaven to earth come down;

Fix in us thy humble dwelling;

All thy faithful mercies crown!

Jesus, Thou art all compassion,

Pure unbounded love Thou art;

Visit us with Thy salvation;

Enter every trembling heart.

Breathe, O breathe Thy loving Spirit,

Into every troubled breast!

Let us all in Thee inherit;

Let us find that second rest.

Take away our bent to sinning;

Alpha and Omega be;

End of faith, as its Beginning,

Set our hearts at liberty.

Come, Almighty to deliver,

Let us all Thy life receive;

Suddenly return and never,

Never more Thy temples leave.

Thee we would be always blessing,

Serve Thee as Thy hosts above,

Pray and praise Thee without ceasing,

Glory in Thy perfect love.

Finish, then, Thy new creation;

Pure and spotless let us be.

Let us see Thy great salvation

Perfectly restored in Thee;

Changed from glory into glory,

Till in heaven we take our place,

Till we cast our crowns before Thee,

Lost in wonder, love, and praise.

~Charles Wesley (1707-1788)

All Thy Mercies

Fernando Ortega first introduced me to this hymn, which serves as a fitting guide in this (American) Thanksgiving month for our meditations on the Lord's blessings throughout our own lives, even from before birth. May our ever-grateful hearts adore His mercies!

When all Thy mercies, O my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view, I’m lost
In wonder, love and praise.

O, how shall words with equal warmth
The gratitude declare,
That glows within my ravished heart!
But Thou canst read it there.

Thy providence my life sustained,
And all my wants redressed,
While in the silent womb I lay,
And hung upon the breast.

To all my weak complaints and cries
Thy mercy lent an ear,
Ere* yet my feeble thoughts had learned
To form themselves in prayer.

Unnumbered comforts to my soul
Thy tender care bestowed,
Before my infant heart conceived
From whom those comforts flowed.

When in the slippery paths of youth
With heedless steps I ran,
Thine arm unseen conveyed me safe,
And led me up to man.

Through hidden dangers, toils, and death,
It gently cleared my way;
And through the pleasing snares of vice,
More to be feared than they.

When worn with sickness, oft hast Thou
With health renewed my face;
And when in sins and sorrows sunk,
Revived my soul with grace.

Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss
Hath made my cup run o’er;
And, in a kind and faithful friend,
Hath doubled all my store.

Ten thousand thousand precious gifts
My daily thanks employ;
Nor is the least a cheerful heart
That tastes those gifts with joy.

Through every period of my life
Thy goodness I’ll pursue
And after death, in distant worlds,
The glorious theme renew.

When nature fails, and day and night
Divide Thy works no more,
My ever grateful heart, O Lord,
Thy mercy shall adore.

Through all eternity to Thee
A joyful song I’ll raise;
For, oh, eternity’s too short
To utter all Thy praise!
~"When All Thy Mercies, O My God," Joseph Addison (1672-1719)

--------------
*before

Fernando Ortega's interpretation of this hymn:

{If reading in RSS feed or e-mail, you may need to access this actual blog post to view the video.}

Lunar Reflections

harvest moon

Venus (center frame) and Mars (above and slightly to the right of Venus)

This month I've really enjoyed taking photos of the early morning moon in its various phases and Venus the morning star. Mars was visible for a few days in the middle of the month as well. In addition, last week in Bible study with my mom, we were discussing a question about shining our light in a lost world and I remembered Sara Groves's song, "You Are the Sun." Her premise is that we are like the moon, with nothing inherently luminous about us. The only way the moon can shine is by reflecting the light of the sun. The only way Christians can shine is by reflecting the light of God's Son.

Below are Sara's lyrics, interspersed with my favorite moon photos from October. May the Lord make them a blessing to you.

"You Are the Sun"

by Sara Groves

You are the sun shining down on everyone

Light of the world giving light to everything I see

Beauty so brilliant I can hardly take it in

And everywhere you are is warmth and light

And I am the moon with no light of my own

Still you have made me to shine

And as I glow in this cold dark night

I know I can't be a light unless I turn my face to you

You are the sun shining down on everyone

Light of the world giving light to everything I see

Beauty so brilliant I can hardly take it in

And everywhere you are is warmth and light

Waning crescent moon with Venus

And I am the moon with no light of my own

Still you have made me to shine

And as I glow in this cold dark night

I know I can't be a light unless I turn my face to you

Shine on me with your light

Without you I'm a cold dark stone

Shine on me I have no light of my own

You are the sun, you are the sun, you are the sun

And I am the moon

Amen.

"Day by Day"

Although or because it's a difficult pain day here with anxiety over this afternoon's medical appointment tapping at my heart's door, the Lord brought this hymn to mind early this morning. It challenges and invites me to entrust myself and my loved ones day by day, moment by moment, to Him. I associate it with my maternal grandmother, so it may also have been one of the hymns she used to play.

Day by day, and with each passing moment,
Strength I find to meet my trials here;
Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,
I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.
He, whose heart is kind beyond all measure,
Gives unto each day what He deems best,
Lovingly its part of pain and pleasure,
Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Every day the Lord Himself is near me,
With a special mercy for each hour;
All my cares He fain would bear and cheer me,
He whose name is Counsellor and Pow’r.
The protection of His child and treasure
Is a charge that on Himself He laid;
“As thy days, thy strength shall be in measure,”
This the pledge to me He made.

Help me then, in every tribulation,
So to trust Thy promises, O Lord,
That I lose not faith’s sweet consolation,
Offered me within Thy holy Word.
Help me, Lord, when toil and trouble meeting,
E’er to take, as from a father’s hand,
One by one, the days, the moments fleeting,
Till with Christ the Lord I stand.

~Carolina Sandell Berg (1832-1903), trans. A. L. Skoog

Lest the reader think Mrs. Berg knew nothing of real suffering to have written such words, such is not the case. Her father fell overboard and drowned before her eyes when she was 26. By God's grace, after that tragedy hymns overflowed from her heart and pen. Her name is largely unfamiliar to American believers, but she is as beloved in Sweden as Fanny Crosby is in the States.

Even in the hard, crumbles, our Father is good and loves His children. Especially in the hard, perhaps. May the Lord give us, also, songs in the dark nights of our souls. 

Celebrating the Redeemer

And coming up at that very hour she [Anna] began to give thanks to God and to speak of him to all who were waiting for the redemption of Jerusalem (Luke 2:38).
And his [John's] father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied, saying, “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he has visited and redeemed his people and has raised up a horn of salvation for us in the house of his servant David, as he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old, that we should be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who hate us; to show the mercy promised to our fathers and to remember his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our father Abraham, to grant us that we, being delivered from the hand of our enemies, might serve him without fear, in holiness and righteousness before him all our days" (Luke 1:67-75 ESV).

Once upon a time in a public-school high school French class we sang "O Holy Night" with its original French text. Several years ago I remembered this as Amore and I rehearsed the English translation for a church Christmas concert.

The thing is, I couldn't remember a word of the French lyrics.  So the chase began. Two years ago, I shared my best attempt at translating those words into English and why they are more precious to me than the English interpretation we sing. 


Here is my literal translation, without attention to rhyme or singability, again:

Midnight! Christians, it is the solemn hour

When the man God descended unto us,

To erase original sin

And to stop His Father’s anger:

The whole world trembles with hope

At this night which gives us a Savior.

People, to your knees! Await* your deliverance,

Christmas! Christmas! Here is the Redeemer!

Christmas! Christmas! Here is the Redeemer!

Let the burning light of our faith

Guide us all to the cradle of the Child,

As formerly, when a bright star

Led the chiefs of the East there.

The King of kings is born in a humble manger,

Powerful men of the day, proud of your grandeur—

It is from there [the manger] that a God preaches to your pride,

Bow your heads before the Redeemer!

Bow your heads before the Redeemer!

The Redeemer has broken all shackles,

The earth is free and heaven is opened.

He [the Redeemer] sees a brother where was only a slave;

Love unites those whom iron had chained,

Who will tell him our gratitude?

It is for us all that He suffered and died:

People, stand! Sing your deliverance,

Christmas! Christmas! Let us sing the Redeemer!

Christmas! Christmas! Let us sing the Redeemer!

(French text, Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure; trans., C. Moore)

*alternately "Expect" or "Be ready for"

For this Christmas, coming as it is at the end of a tumultuous and burdened year, let's shift our focus to the concept of Redeemer, which appears in the chorus of each of the 3 verses of the French lyric.

In Greek, as is often preached, the word "redeem" originates in the marketplace and the idea of buying something or someone back. It gives us imagery of paying a price and setting free.

In the ancient Hebrew culture, a redeemer functioned in 4 desperate situations:

• Loss of land (Lev. 25:23-34): If an Israelite became so poor that he lost his God-given, inherited portion in the land of promise, a relative with means to buy it back could do so and restore it to the original owner. The redeemer provided the remedy to bankruptcy.
• Loss of life (Num. 35:9-29): If a murder occurred, the redeemer (or kinsman-redeemer) was the Mosaic Law's appointed instrument of capital punishment. The redeemer provided justice for violence against his close relative. (The law also provided a means of protection for the killer in cases of accidental or ambiguous death until a fair trial could be held.)
• Loss of liberty (Lev. 25:47-55): If an Israelite became so poor that he had no alternative but to sell himself into slavery, the near relative could buy him back, The redeemer freed his enslaved kinsman.
• Loss of legacy (Deut. 25:5-10 and entirety of Ruth): If an Israelite man died with a wife but no child, the widow was in dire straits. In the ancient near east, a godly son fulfilled the role of a modern 401K, Social Security, and Medicare package. He was his parents' sustenance and protection in their old age. As strange as it seems to 21st-century readers, the husband's brother would temporarily act as a husband to the widow in order to beget a child to care for her when she was advanced in years. The resulting child would be considered the dead husband's, not the brother-in-law's. The redeemer would prevent the dying out of a family line and raise up an heir for the dead father and son to sustain the widow.

The common threads? Hopelessness and close relationship. Someone who can help himself or herself has no need of a redeemer. The redemption principle only comes into play when there is no other option. A stranger with no personal, familial relationship has no qualification to be redeemer.

At Christmas, we celebrate the birth of our ultimate Kinsman-Redeemer. We have no hope in ourselves to regain the inheritance of Eden, to judge wrongdoing righteously and effectively, to free ourselves from slavery to sin and death, or to make ourselves fruitful, let alone fruitful with abundant, lasting, good fruit. We are desperate and hopeless, in need of rescue. The rescuer has to be qualified, though; we need a rescuer who is a near kinsman.

Our Rescuer had to be fully human in order to redeem the children of men; He had to be God to be strong, rich, free, and life-giving, able to help the impoverished, enslaved, dead sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. Only Jesus fully qualifies. As the hymn says, "the man God descended unto us,/To erase original sin/And to stop His Father’s anger."

Are you in a desperate, hopeless situation today? Are you carrying more lament than joy in your heart as you walk into Christmas? Beloved, if you are a Christian, your desperation puts you in the perfect place to appreciate the arrival of your Redeemer. May your need and pain turn your heart toward Him in worship and praise today. 

 Christians, "Who will tell him our gratitude?

It is for us all that He suffered and died:

People, stand! Sing your deliverance,

Christmas! Christmas! Let us sing the Redeemer!

Christmas! Christmas! Let us sing the Redeemer!"

P.S.  For the inquisitive, here are the best websites I found:

http://www.paroles.net/chants-de-noel/paroles-minuit-chretien French lyrics

http://www.beliefnet.com/story/94/story_9463.html story behind the song – English

www.carols.org.uk/ba32-o-holy-night.htm English lyrics as we sing them

Come: Prayer for Advent

"Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears & sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s Strength and Consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear Desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

"Born Thy people to deliver,
Born a child and yet a King,
Born to reign in us forever,
Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.
By Thine own eternal Spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone;
By Thine all sufficient merit,
Raise us to Thy glorious throne."
~Charles Wesley

Through Thorny Ways, a Joyful End

 This hymn is an excellent example of the merits of talking to oneself, a "crumb" which is nourishing me at present. May the Lord bless it to your soul's use as well.

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future, as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears,
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord.
When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past
All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.

Be still, my soul: begin the song of praise
On earth, believing, to Thy Lord on high;
Acknowledge Him in all thy words and ways,
So shall He view thee with a well pleased eye.
Be still, my soul: the Sun of life divine
Through passing clouds shall but more brightly shine.

~original German by Ka­tha­ri­na A. von Schle­gel, translated into English by Jane L. Borth­wick

"Crown Him with Many Crowns"

Crown Him with many crowns, the Lamb upon His throne.
Hark! How the heavenly anthem drowns all music but its own.
Awake, my soul, and sing of Him who died for thee,
And hail Him as thy matchless King through all eternity.

Crown Him the virgin’s Son, the God incarnate born,
Whose arm those crimson trophies won which now His brow adorn;
Fruit of the mystic rose, as of that rose the stem;
The root whence mercy ever flows, the Babe of Bethlehem.

Crown Him the Son of God, before the worlds began,
And ye who tread where He hath trod, crown Him the Son of Man;
Who every grief hath known that wrings the human breast,
And takes and bears them for His own, that all in Him may rest.

Crown Him the Lord of life, who triumphed over the grave,
And rose victorious in the strife for those He came to save.
His glories now we sing, who died, and rose on high,
Who died eternal life to bring, and lives that death may die.

Crown Him the Lord of peace, whose power a scepter sways
From pole to pole, that wars may cease, and all be prayer and praise.
His reign shall know no end, and round His piercèd feet
Fair flowers of paradise extend their fragrance ever sweet.

Crown Him the Lord of love, behold His hands and side,
Those wounds, yet visible above, in beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky can fully bear that sight,
But downward bends his burning eye at mysteries so bright.

Crown Him the Lord of Heaven, enthroned in worlds above,
Crown Him the King to Whom is given the wondrous name of Love.
Crown Him with many crowns, as thrones before Him fall;
Crown Him, ye kings, with many crowns, for He is King of all.

Crown Him the Lord of lords, who over all doth reign,
Who once on earth, the incarnate Word, for ransomed sinners slain,
Now lives in realms of light, where saints with angels sing
Their songs before Him day and night, their God, Redeemer, King.

Crown Him the Lord of years, the Potentate of time,
Creator of the rolling spheres, ineffably sublime.
All hail, Redeemer, hail! For Thou has died for me;
Thy praise and glory shall not fail throughout eternity.

(all text Matthew Bridges except vv. 2 and 3, which are the contribution of Godfrey Thring)

"In Heavenly Love Abiding"

In heavenly love abiding,

no change my heart shall fear;

and safe is such confiding,

for nothing changes here:

the storm may roar about me;

my heart may low be laid;

but God is round about me,

and can I be dismayed?

Wherever He may guide me,

no want shall turn me back;

my Shepherd is beside me,

and nothing can I lack;

His wisdom is forever,

His sight is never dim;

His will forms each endeavor,

and I will walk with Him.

Green pastures are before me,

which yet I have not seen;

bright skies will soon be o'er me,

where the dark clouds have been:

My life I cannot measure,

the path of life is free;

my Savior has my treasure,

and He will walk with me.

~Anna Letitia Waring (1820-1910)

Palm Sunday {A Poem}

The next day the large crowd that had come to the feast heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem. So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!” And Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it, just as it is written,

“Fear not, daughter of Zion;

behold, your king is coming,

sitting on a donkey's colt!”

John 12:13-15, ESV

In high school, just shy of the first anniversary of my conversion to trusting only in Christ for my salvation, I wrote a poem on Holy Week for a poetry project for Mrs. Best's English class. Then I put the words to music, for reasons I don't recall except that choral and piano music filled much of my life then. Yesterday, Palm Sunday for the Western church, I remembered this and thought to share it here, a virtual back-up for the family album. As far as I know, it's the earliest poem I still possess.

The music is already yellow and tearing around the edges. My faith, too, shows some wear and tear since those early days. The writing and theology (especially the third stanza) are pretty immature, but for this post I'll leave the piece be as a reminder of the incremental nature of so much of our growth in understanding Scripture, our growth in knowing God. In many areas, we don't even know what we don't know. At no point in our walk with Christ do we fully understand the fullness of revelation, but with grace we can learn more as we go. Rather than "gospel truth," please regard this (anything on this blog, for that matter) as an old snapshot of my understanding of the Passion of Christ and take only the Word of God as your authority and mine.

"Hosanna in the highest!"

The little children cried

When they the King of kings did spy

As He on donkey nighed.

They spread their garments on the road;

Palm branches did they wave.

They welcomed Him, the Lord of hosts,

And royal reception gave.

This sip He had of earth's sweet wine

Caused many a tear to fall

When He a bitter cup did drink

Beyond that garden wall.

He soon stood next to Pilate as

His people a murd'rer freed.

As for their King, they shouted,

"On us let His blood be!"

All this was but a shadow that

Before the Lamb did lie;

As people shouted blessings,

He a lonely cross did spy.

Hope for the Burdened at Christmas

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,

Whose forms are bending low,

Who toil along the climbing way

With painful steps and slow,

Look now! for glad and golden hours

Come swiftly on the wing.

O rest beside the weary road,

And hear the angels sing!

For lo! the days are hastening on,

By prophet-bards foretold,

When with the ever circling years

Comes round the age of gold;

When peace shall over all the earth

Its ancient splendors fling,

And the whole world send back the song

Which now the angels sing.

~from "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" by Edmund Sears

Come, Thou long-expected Jesus,

Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us,

Let us find our rest in Thee....

By Thine own eternal Spirit

Rule in all our hearts alone;

By Thine all sufficient merit,

Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

~from "Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus" by Charles Wesley

However this finds your heart, dear Crumble,

may the Lord bless you with incomprehensible joy,

the joy only possible because Christ was born,

Christ has died,

Christ is risen,

and Christ will come again.

Come soon, Lord Jesus!

With prayers of blessing and much affection,

Amore, tinuviel, and the Ebony Dog

Let Us Sing the Redeemer! (Cantique de Noel)

Once upon a time in a public-school high school French class we sang "O Holy Night" with its original French text. Several years ago I remembered this as Amore and I rehearsed the English translation for a church Christmas concert.

The thing is, I couldn't remember a word of the French lyrics.  So the chase began.

When I eventually found the words, delayed by my failure to recall the French title, I discovered a beautiful, much stronger gospel message than in the English lyrics we Americans usually sing. The origin story explained why yet added to the mystique of the beautiful words.

In mid-nineteenth-century France, an obscure parish priest requested that a marginally involved poet-wine merchant in his congregation compose a poem for the midnight Mass dividing Christmas Eve from Christmas proper. The poet, Placide Cappeau, obliged and uncharacteristically felt moved to find music for his piece. For the tune he turned to Adolphe Adam, a French composer of Jewish heritage.

The song quickly became popular among the people. When the poet renounced faith in God and joined the socialist party and church leaders learned the composer was of Jewish lineage, they decried the song as unbecoming to Christian worship (from "Stories Behind the Best-Loved Songs of Christmas" as reprinted at BeliefNet). So much did the people love this Christmas carol that their efforts availed little.

In the next decade or so, "Cantique de Noël" came to the attention of American abolitionist John Sullivan Dwight, who translated the poem for American carolers, but with the addition of an abolitionist spin not present in the original.

For reasons I do not know, Dwight softened the first verse's lyrics about the God-man erasing original sin and stopping His Father's anger. Instead he offered a validation of the soul's worth. In the second verse, he replaced a line about God in the manger preaching to our pride with the true but very different sentiment, "In all our trials born to be our friend."

The greatest change, however, occurs in the third stanza. The original speaks of a mighty Redeemer who has broken shackles, set earth free, and opened heaven. This Redeemer now regards the slaves as brothers, uniting them in love.

Then Cappeau challenges the singers and hearers to respond to so great a redemption:

Who will tell him our gratitude?

It is for us all that He suffered and died:

People, stand!  Sing your deliverance,

Christmas! Christmas!  Let us sing the Redeemer!

Christmas! Christmas!  Let us sing the Redeemer!

In its place, Dwight seized upon the original slavery imagery and anticipated an end to all human oppression. The end of slavery in the United States was unequivocally a good thing; by no means do I intend to argue against it.

That said, it grieves me that English-speaking Christians have lost the sense of the original French lyric which reminds me that I myself, regardless of race or ethnicity, am a slave set free, that my Redeemer rent heaven to break my shackles, our shackles, that the "King of kings born in a humble manger" suffered and died for me. This deliverance and nothing else unites us former slaves in love. Will I tell Him my gratitude? Will I, this Christmas, sing of my deliverance?

Translation, especially of poetry, is notoriously tricky business. Eugene Peterson, in Eat This Book, cites an Italian proverb to the effect that "the translator is a traitor." That said, since I can't teach you enough French to read the original "Cantique de Noël" for yourselves, I offer for your Christmas blessing my best attempt at a literal (not rhymed or singable) translation of the original text. Those of you proficient in reading French would do better to follow the link below (and correct me where I've erred).

Midnight! Christians, it is the solemn hour

When the man God descended unto us,

To erase original sin

And to stop His Father’s anger:

The whole world trembles with hope

At this night which gives us a Savior.

People, to your knees! Await* your deliverance,

Christmas! Christmas! Here is the Redeemer!

Christmas! Christmas! Here is the Redeemer!

Let the burning light of our faith

Guide us all to the cradle of the Child,

As formerly, when a bright star

Led the chiefs of the East there.

The King of kings is born in a humble manger,

Powerful men of the day, proud of your grandeur—

It is from there [the manger] that a God preaches to your pride,

Bow your heads before the Redeemer!

Bow your heads before the Redeemer!

The Redeemer has broken all shackles,

The earth is free and heaven is opened.

He [the Redeemer] sees a brother where was only a slave;

Love unites those whom iron had chained,

Who will tell him our gratitude?

It is for us all that He suffered and died:

People, stand! Sing your deliverance,

Christmas! Christmas! Let us sing the Redeemer!

Christmas! Christmas! Let us sing the Redeemer!

(French text, Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure; trans., C. Moore)

*alternately "Expect" or "Be ready for"

May the Redeemer grant you a heart full of worship this Christmas with time to kneel before the manger and adore our Lord and Savior.

Below you may view a contemporary French-Canadian arrangement with lyrics displayed:

And here is a tenor's rendition in classical style:



P.S.  For the inquisitive, here are the best websites I found:

http://www.paroles.net/chants-de-noel/paroles-minuit-chretien French lyrics

http://www.beliefnet.com/story/94/story_9463.html story behind the song – English

www.carols.org.uk/ba32-o-holy-night.htm English lyrics as we sing them

Come to the Feet of Jesus

“Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

Jesus in Matthew 11:28-30, HCSB

This butterfly we believe to be an Eastern Comma was taking a rest just outside our front door Saturday night as we left for supper. (S)he waited very patiently until I had captured the photo I wanted and then fluttered off.

Come to Jesus.

He promises rest. But far better than rest of body is rest of soul. It is wretched to be a slave, to groan, bleed, toil; but far worse to be Satan's bondman, dragging about an evil conscience and an aching heart. Rest from this cannot be had but by coming to Jesus. And, if we come, He will lighten every other load. Are you poor? Come, and He will make you rich forever. Are you sick? Come, and He will cure your worst disease [the very worst being those of the soul and spirit, even more than of the body]. Are you sad? Come, and He will wipe away your tears. Are you bereaved? Come, and He will be to you a brother in adversity, who changes not, and never dies. Is sin a burden? O then, come to Jesus and He will take it all away. Do you dread the day of death and judgment? Come, and that day will be the dawn of life and glory. O then, come.  --Newman Hall (1816-1902), Come to Jesus

Coming to Jesus, falling "At the Feet of Jesus" is where I have needed to start my days lately. So if you're looking for me today, look for me "in the shelter of my Savior’s embrace /Hidden safely in the refuge of His mercy and His Grace/And I Will Sing Hallelujah to the One who sets me free/And you will find me in the arms of Jesus" (Steven Curtis Chapman, "At the Feet of Jesus," The Glorious Unfolding). Perhaps another Crumble needs to hide in His refuge too?

At the feet of Jesus I will lay my burdens down
I will lay my heavy burdens down
In the stillness I can hear my Savior calling out
Come to me and lay your burdens down

So I will lay down my struggles
I will lay down my shame
All the fear I drag around through this life
like a ball and chain
(All my questions and confusion)
I will sing Hallelujah to the One who sets me free
And you will find me at the feet of Jesus

In the arms of Jesus I will find my peace and rest
I hear him calling come to me and rest
Carried by my shepherd cradled tightly to His chest
There and there alone my soul finds rest

So I will rest in the shelter of my Savior’s embrace
Hidden safely in the refuge of His mercy and His Grace
And I Will Sing Hallelujah to the One who sets me free
And you will find me in the arms of Jesus

At the feet of my Savior
At the feet of my King
I will bow down and worship
I will lift my voice and sing
Hallelujah Hallelujah to the One who sets me free

You will find me at the feet of Jesus

~lyrics from Steven Curtis Chapman's website


May you have a truly restful weekend, my Crumble friends.

{To view the video on the Web, please access this blog post at the crumbs site.}

In the Garden

The images below are from my parents' garden and Amore's. The text is "In the Garden" by Charles Austin Miles, which my maternal grandmother played and sang often. Some may criticize the hymn as too sentimental or romantic, but I like it, in part because the garden is one place I enjoy being quiet with the Lord, a place of spiritual whitespace (perhaps because I'm not the one tasked with the actual work. . . smile).

When all is said and done, He is the true rest, joy, and beauty of our lives, whether we find ourselves in a garden or a cubicle; neck-deep in laundry or ankle-deep in desert sand; encumbered with decisions or imprisoned by illness or the justice system. Every place, every circumstance is open to His voice. Every heart can be a place of His song. Every life in Christ has a ministry to offer a hurting world.

 I pray these photos give you a breath of rest and the Lord's peace in the midst of whatever your day holds.

I come to the garden alone,

While the dew is still on the roses;

And the voice I hear, falling on my ear,

The Son of God discloses.

And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

And He tells me I am His own,

And the joy we share as we tarry there,

None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice

Is so sweet the birds hush their singing;

And the melody that He gave to me

Within my heart is ringing.

I'd stay in the garden with Him

Tho' the night around me be falling;

But He bids me go; thro' the voice of woe,

His voice to me is calling.

~Charles Austin Miles (1868-1946)

Thank You, Lord, for the beauty and artistry of Your creation,
for substantial progress in my shoulder rehab in the last week,
for husband, parents, and a Bible study friend providing me transportation,
for getting to know the lovely young lady interning with my physical therapist right now,
for stable retina health and vision over the last 15 months,
for strength for 3 medical appointments in 2 days,
for alerting us to a changing mole so we could get a biopsy right away,
for a second lost dental filling,
for assistance with 2 more meals (really 4, including leftovers),
for Mezzo's move completed,
for a grocery delivery,
for messy progress in the renovation of "our" neighborhood pond,
for working air conditioning in hot June weather,
for a successful first drive around the neighborhood 20 days after shoulder surgery,
for a Bible-study friend's successful surgery and hopeful outcome,
for 2 nights of good sleep this week,
for Amore's hard work toward setting up a network back-up solution in our home,
for one of the lab do-overs coming back normal the second time (The other is still pending.),
and for a summer Bible study with the Living Proof blog community. (Anyone else doing this one?)

(2014 gratitude journal #1491-1509)