The Power (and Peace) in Hymns

I love to go to church on Sunday mornings.

I go to a very plain country church. It used to be a store, it's been added onto and has a funny shape with a rounded roof.

You might go to a church in the big city with beautiful furnishings and stained glass windows, a soaring roof line and a steeple with a bell.

Not that any of that matters.

What I do know is that the Lord is pleased when we give him our first fruits, and that means the first fruits of our time, too.

To begin the week on Sunday morning: just taking that time to recognize that the reason we are able to live, move and have our being is that HE makes it all possible --is a comfort and a blessing.

Sitting there in that pew, knowing that you need to be humble, because you certainly don't deserve all the blessings that He's given to you.

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound...that saved a wretch like me!"

Some things that I love about church are the peacefulness that overwhelms me as I enter and sit in the pew.

I love that we're all sitting side by side, as a family.

I love it when my husband puts his arm around me...the hush of the congregation as the pastor steps forward.

I like hearing the choir sing.

I love holding my Bible, and the sound of the pages turning in unison as the pastor announces the texts during his sermon.

"Redeemed how I love to proclaim it, redeemed by the blood of the Lamb!"

I also love it when my husband shifts in the pew and switches arms and turns and puts his other arm around our son, making memories that are strong and precious and will be etched in his heart for the rest of his young life, even when his dad may no longer be near him, physically, he'll feel those arms wrapped around his shoulders during church.

"Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be....thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done....on earth as it is in heaven....Give us this day, our daily bread...."

One of the best parts of all on Sunday morning, is picking up the hymnal, hearing the music start to soar and singing hymns that our parents, theirs before them and generations beyond sang in churches, both humble and great in generations past; in this country in the cities or frontier towns scattered across the middle of the country, even in the wild west, or in their homelands across the ocean.

"What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus...what can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus...oh! Precious is the flow that makes me white as snow..."

I am more than happy to sing a song to God that perhaps George Washington sang as he stood tall in his congregation out there in the wild and beautiful hills of Virginia:

"Faith of our Fathers, living still, in spite of dungeon, fire and sword!"

The words of the familiar hymns--most of them by now memorized-- have meanings, and if you do nothing more than listen to the sermon contained within the words of a hymn....you've been to church and can go home fuller than when you arrived.

"We have heard the joyful sound, Jesus saves! Jesus saves! Spread the tidings all around...."

(A hymn can be hummed to your baby while you're rocking him to sleep, your accompaniment the squeak of the rockers: infusing him with wisdom inspired by God and his Word....precious memories made for both you and the baby. There are simple ones you can softly sing...)

"Oh, how I love Jesus...Oh, how I love Jesus..."

Some hymns are upbeat:

"Some glad morning, when this life is over, I'll fly away....to a home on God's celestial shore, I'll fly away....I'll fly away, oh glory, I'll fly away...."

As that song is sung, I can vividly remember tent revivals I went to with my parents as a kid: in a hot and breezy tent on a late summer night, all of us gathered and parked in the freshly cut hay field on the farm a sweet old farming couple we went to church with. The crowd sang "I'll fly away" and ten more good old gospel songs with all their might, and the crickets sang along.

Some hymns are comforting and reassuring:

"Anywhere with Jesus, I can safely go; Anywhere He leads me in this world below..."

There is one song in particular I can never make it through without crying and that is:

"To the old rugged cross, I will ever be true, its shame and reproach gladly bear...."

(My husband has learned that as soon as that song is announced he puts his arm around me because he knows what's coming. It's either run out of the auditorium or weep through it; most of the time I weep.)

Some songs remind me of certain people, like my brother-in-law who died young, and at his funeral we sang:

"Because He lives, I can face tomorrow, because He lives, all fear is gone....!"

At Easter, we are reminded of our Lord's loneliness in Gethsemane when we sing the opening lines of:

"I come to the garden alone...while the dew is still on the roses...and the voice I hear, falling on my ear...."

Or around the fourth of July when we all sing the Battle Hymn of the Republic, I think of my dear Grandpa who requested it be sung at his funeral. Strangely I can sing it all the way through without a tear, because it's a triumphant song:

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord; He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored....He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on...!"

We can celebrate seasons with our hymns, and the remember the sacrifice of those that came before us during special times of year by singing those classics like:

"Oh, beautiful, for spacious skies, for amber waves of grain..."

That's another one that I can barely make it through without a Kleenex. My throat swells and shuts and I can barely get a word out past the first stanza.

Yes, just opening a hymnbook can bring back a flood of memories and of comfort. Have you heard the stories about Alzheimer patients or those with severe cases of dementia who can remember nothing much else...being able to sing along word for word when a hymn that was burned into their soul is sung: bringing joy to the family of loved ones as they watch and listen?

"I will sing the wondrous story, of the Christ who died for me....How He left His home in glory for the cross of Calvary....Sing O sing, of my redeemer, of the Christ who died for me! Sing it with the saints in glory, gathered by the crystal sea!"

I know the modern trend is "praise and worship" and "contemporary Christian music" but I hope that as long as there is a United States of America that we will never fully abandon the precious hymn book and the stories and simple wisdom and truths contained therein.

A hymn is a mini-sermon, and we all probably have memorized enough for a lifetime, just in case it's us one day that's sitting in a wheelchair with our gray hair and not able to remember our own name, singing with our families:

"Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee...."

Tell me, what is your favorite hymn?
Or a list of favorites?

SIMPLE SUNDAYS...View from a Mountaintop

Photo courtesy of my girl Jamie, she's quite the photographer. (Click on photo to see a larger view.)

This is the view overlooking a part of Chattanooga and the twisting Tennessee River from the fort on top of Lookout Mountain, Tennesee. You can park and take an incline trolley to the top which is really neat, or if you're like us, you take the trolley, and drive it, because you love the adventure of the winding, scary roads. Elevation 1,850 feet. This was a New Year's Day 2008 and at the top of the mountain it was spitting snow. Down below it was ten degrees warmer and it was fine.

Believe it or not, a famous Civil War battle took place up here, I tell you there were some tough men to haul and push the tools of war to this spot. It's a sacred spot, a lot of men died in this place.

SIMPLE SUNDAYS....Serenity and Simplicity

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A scene from a Christmas-y mantle on a January day at Burritt's on the Mountain, Huntsville, Alabama.

They lived so simply then, what's to make us think we've got it rough now?

Even with a "recession" we're living so much better and we should remember that and be slow to complain. They were some of the happiest people, just glad for the freedom to be what they wanted or could be, and happy to have the potential to be more in this great land. The simple ones were those who made it possible for us to live as we do; they paid with blood, sweat, tears and a lot of times: their lives.

Simple Sundays....Blueberry Cream Muffins

Have a BLUEBERRY CREAM MUFFIN with your coffee this mornin'! I had never found a bluberry muffin recipe before this one that would "hold up" the blueberries. Before, all my muffins would be fine, but the blueberries always sunk to the bottom of the muffin. This one is wonderful, and the secret to holding those berries up is the sour cream in the recipe! It's such a creamy taste, one I think you'll love. I make these in the jumbo muffin tins and cool them, wrap individually in Cling Wrap and either freeze or refrigerate to keep them fresh for longer. I've also been known to drop them off at a friends house, or send them to work with my husband to share with his co-workers! The recipe isn't complicated, and it makes a nice big batch to share! Enjoy this simple treat!

Blueberry Cream Muffins

Prep time: 10 minutes

Cook time: 20 minutes

4 eggs

2 c. white sugar

1 c. vegetable oil

1 t. vanilla extract

4 c. all purpose flour

1 t. salt

1 t. baking soda

2 c. sour cream

2 c. bluberries, fresh or frozen

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Grease 24 muffin cups or line with paper muffin liners.

In a large bowl, beat the eggs, gradually add sugar while beating. Continue beating slowly, while pouring in oil. Stir in vanilla. In a seperate bowl, stir together the flour, salt, and baking soda.

Stir dry ingredients into egg mixture alternately with sour cream. Gently fold in blueberries. Scoop batter in to prepared muffin cups.

Bake in preheated oven for 20 minutes or til done. Cool on wire rack.

Have a great Sunday!

OFFICIAL FARMHOUSE FOOD!

Simple Sundays....Dreaming of Summer!

This is my little grandniece from summer 2007. She's sitting on a little bridge over the nice spring-fed creek at my sister's place that sits back in the woods up north. Doesn't little McKenzie look dreamy? Well, this little collage illustrates the simple joys of a summer Sunday afternoon, we looked at and collected a few smooth rocks, we played with the kitties, her grandma and she and I sat and watched the water go by, threw a few rocks into the water and then went in the house and played a lively game of hide and seek and played dress up with those little kitties we'd seen earlier. A perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon..........

SIMPLE SUNDAYS....Fishing at the Pond

The church we attend is a country church and sits on a big piece of acreage, almost park-like. There's a huge lawn with a baseball diamond at the rear, and a grove of maple trees with a good pavilion and a nice-sized pond. Occasionally, on a Sunday afternoon in spring, summer or fall, Lem and Luke load up a cooler, get the poles and grab some worms from the garden and head off for a pleasant couple of hours fishing at the pond. Their favorite to catch and release are the big bass there.

And every chance they get after a church potluck in the pavilion, they'll head over to the pond, like many other dads and sons. I thought I'd share today a couple photos of a simple Sunday afternoon pastime. There's something so simple and pure about fishing: you don't need to do much to feel a kinship and companionship, and nothing better for a dad and his son to make quiet memories to tide them over during the hectic and busy days of their lives, not just now but forever!

SIMPLE SUNDAYS....

SIMPLE JOYS...on a Sunday afternoon! Any time you're ready, this little guy is up for snugglin' on the couch. He loves to be warm and cozy, under a blanket. Little E is such a good little buddy. And when there's no one to be cozy with, the sunshine will do. And when there's no sunshine, he'll whine for you to come and be with him. And if you cannot? He'll settle for a pillow and a blanket of his own on the couch.