Whispering the Lyrics--our journey continues through Lent, this 40 days of
reflection, spiritual growth and confession, our journey onward to the last
week of the life of Christ, our journey toward the cross. And on that
journey, we have the ancient songs of the People of God, those songs, prayers,
liturgies and cries of Israel that we have come to know as the Psalms, and…we
have the great hymns of our faith.
Today, it is the 130th that enters our heart, lifts us
up, gives us hope.
As I have several times through this series, I want to read again
a part of our Psalm from “The Message” by Eugene Peterson.
Psalm 130 (The
Message)
Help, GOD-the
bottom has fallen out of my life! Master, hear my cry for help! Listen hard!
Open your ears! Listen to my cries for mercy.
If you, GOD, kept
records on wrongdoings, who would stand a chance?
As it turns out,
forgiveness is your habit, and that's why you're worshiped.
I pray to GOD-my
life a prayer-- and wait for what God will say and do. My life's on the line
before God, my Lord, waiting and watching till morning, waiting and watching
till morning….
In
my mind’s eye, I see the psalmist peering out into the cold, dark night. It
is dark out there, and…it is apparently dark in here (point to heart) as
well. The darkness that comes when one acknowledges what sin can do…what sin
has done in a person’s life. The darkness that comes when things have gotten
out of control. The darkness that is like the darkness of the formless void
in the beginning of the sacred story--when the earth was a formless void
without shape. Have you ever found yourself standing there, in the darkness?
In the deep?
Many of us were afraid of the dark when we were young. Indeed, 30
years ago, being in the dark was the second greatest fear of grade-school
children. Researchers at Johns Hopkins University reported that 30 years ago,
the greatest fears of grade school children were:
1. Animals
2. Being in the
dark.
3. High places
4. Strangers
5. Loud noises.
Today children are
most afraid of these five things:
1. Divorce
2. War
3. Cancer
4. Pollution
5. Being attacked.
You’ll agree, it’s a far darker world for our children today than
when many of us were children. It’s a far darker word for all of us. Have
you ever found yourself standing there, in the darkness? In the deep? What
is it that keeps you going, what keeps you hoping, watching, until the morning
comes?
(Scriven biography compiled from an article by Lindsay Terry, excerpted from
Today’s Christian Website)
A man by the name of Joseph Scriven knew the darkness of which I speak.
Scriven was born in Dublin, Ireland, in 1819. He fell for a lovely young
woman, but on the eve of their wedding she accidentally drowned. Scriven
never recovered from the shock. The Irishman began to wander, hoping to forget
his sorrow. At age 25, he finally settled in Canada. He later fell in love
again and planned to marry a wonderful Canadian woman. But again, tragedy
struck. His second fiancé died after contracting pneumonia.
In 1855, a friend visited an ill Scriven and discovered a poem
that he had written for his ailing mother in faraway Ireland. Scriven didn't
have the money to visit her, but he sent her the poem as an encouragement. He
called it "Pray Without Ceasing." When the friend inquired about the poem's
origins, Scriven reportedly answered, "The Lord and I did it between us."
And that might be our clue. How it is that Scriven found his way
through the darkness. How we find our way out of the darkness. It is with
the help of a friend--the friend who helped Scriven write down the words of
his poem, the friend Scriven so lovingly talks about in his lyrics.
Scriven began to work, doing odd jobs for people who could not pay
for them. The story is told that once a wealthy man saw Scriven walking by
with a sawhorse under his arm. The wealthy man turned to his friend and
said, “He looks like a sober man, I’ll hire him to cut wood for me.” “That’s
Joseph Scriven,” the friend replied. “He won’t cut wood for you. He only
cuts wood for those who don’t have enough to pay.”
And so Scriven lived out his life in service to others, a friend
to any who needed one, just as he had known the friendship of the one who had
walked him out of the deep darkness when he was weak and heavy laden.
Scriven never intended for the poem to be published, but it made
its rounds, and was set to music in 1868 by musician Charles Converse, who
titled it "What a Friend We Have in Jesus."
Joseph Scriven died in 1886 (ironically, in an accidental
drowning). In his memory, the town of Port Hope erected a monument with this
inscription from Scriven's famous song: In His arms He'll take and shield
thee. Thou wilt find a solace there.
Of course, we will sing it, in a moment, as we prepare to come to the Lord’s
table for Holy Communion. The Eucharist is especially meaningful during
Lent--remembering Christ’s last supper as we reflect upon our own mortality.
His death for our sin even as we confess our sin before Holy God. The cup of
forgiveness, the bread of life, as we prepare to observe again this coming
Holy Week just what the price of this gift is.
As we prepare to come to this, our Lord’s table, let us make our
confession before God.
Would you join me in singing “What a Friend we Have in Jesus” as
the elements of the Eucharist are brought forward?
