By Marie
MacPherson
The prelude for
“Why Should Cross and Trial Grieve Me?” piped out of the organ as I
walked toward the altar for the Lord’s Supper. As soon as I recognized it, I
knew the rest of the service would be difficult to navigate without tears.
Years ago, I struggled to memorize all eight verses of Gerhardt’s rich theology
applied to each and every life circumstance, singing it twice daily as I rocked
my fourth living child to sleep. Having just experienced a miscarriage a few
weeks earlier, cross and trial were deeply embedded in my heart.
As I knelt at
the rail to receive Christ’s body and blood, I barely whispered, and the
congregation boldly sang, verse three:
God oft gives
me days of gladness;
Shall I grieve
If He give
Seasons, too,
of sadness?
God is good
and tempers ever
All my ill,
And He will
Wholly leave
me never.
I returned to my
pew and offered a prayer of thanksgiving. Then, with the congregation, I sobbed
out verse five:
Death cannot
destroy forever;
From our
fears,
Cares, and
tears
It will us
deliver.
It will close
life's mournful story,
Make a way
That we may
Enter heav'nly
glory.
As I sang, I
prayed. I prayed for myself and the still-fresh pain of my baby’s death, and my
own husband’s barely spoken grief. I prayed for others: for my mother, who no
longer remembers, and my father who does, which makes love so painful. I prayed
for my relative’s father who is wasting away from disease. I prayed for my
friend, who at that very moment was sitting at her adult son’s deathbed vigil.
I prayed for my mentor awaiting her cancer results and the little girl at
church just diagnosed with leukemia.
I honestly had no
business singing, for I was merely weeping the words. But though my voice was
cracking, my spirit insisted I shout (if only to myself) the Truth in these
words, broken-hearted sobs notwithstanding.
I’m a firm
believer that God wants us to be happy. However, when Jesus took on flesh for
our sake, He also fully entered into our disappointments, sorrows, and despair.
Because of the
Doctrine of Objective Justification, we Lutherans often consider our emotions
irrelevant—we’re saved, no matter how we feel. Others outside of Lutheranism
may consider our liturgy to be rote and unfeeling. However, I would posit that
liturgical Lutheran worship, both in an individual service, and throughout the
church year, respects the full spectrum of human emotion. The liturgy and
hymnody of the church takes on new meaning each time you say it or sing it
based on your own personal trials, and yet still sings the same eternal song of
the One Who redeems all of our emotions and works everything together for good
(Rom. 8:28).
Within the ups
and downs, the highs and lows, the major and minor keys in both weekly worship
and also throughout the seasons of the church, we find that a wide range of
emotions can be good and desirable and normal. We don’t have to feel “happy”
all of the time, as some in praise-song-centered worship might have us feel.
And for those times when our emotions are truly not good, but rather
self-centered and sinful, the words of the liturgy and music of the hymns point
us away from our naturally depraved selves, and toward redemption, hope,
eternity. And by practicing these words in church, when we find ourselves in a
situation where there are no good human words to comfort us, we use what we
have learned and know: the God-given balm in the words of Scripture, hymns, and
the liturgy.
Within a single
service, we liturgical Lutherans are never stuck long with the minor key and
the burden of the Law; we are always comforted soon after with the major key
and the freedom of the Gospel.
·
Invocation:
We begin with the invocation and an opening hymn, celebrating the joy of
togetherness and the power of God’s Word and the Holy Spirit in the promising
and hopeful chords of hymns like “Blessed Jesus, at Thy Word,” or the driving
triplets of “Thy Strong Word.”
·
Confession:
We experience grief and pain over the guilt of our sins, crying out “Kyrie,
Lord Have Mercy!”
·
Absolution:
We receive forgiveness with relief and joy from the pastor as from God Himself,
shouting out praise in “Gloria, in Excelsis Deo!”
·
The
Lord’s Supper: We receive the Lord’s Supper, singing with quiet and holy
reverence “Agnus Dei, Christ the Lamb of God, Have Mercy Upon Us,” remembering
Christ’s death and His forgiveness.
·
Benediction:
We leave the solace of the church in peace, singing a resolute tune, such as
“God’s Word is Our Great Heritage,” “Abide with Me,” or “On My Heart Imprint
Thine Image,” equipped for every good work (Heb. 13:20-21).
Over the course
of the entire year, we liturgical Lutherans are never stuck with the theme of
the burden of sin for longer than a season, nor are we ever forced to feel the
perpetual high of praise music when our hearts are hurting.
·
Advent:
We know the new church year has begun with the bold, chant-like opening notes
of “Savior of the Nations, Come,” one of the oldest preserved hymns in
Christendom.
·
Christmas:
We rest in the peaceful solace of the lullaby “Silent Night,” rocked in the
arms of Someone bigger and stronger than ourselves.
·
Lent: We
become nostalgic for grade school and our first piano lessons, bursting out in
“Glory Be to Jesus,” dreading this season’s culmination in death.
·
Palm
Sunday: We thrill at Jesus receiving His due glory, shouting “Ride On, Ride On
in Majesty,” but shudder by the ironic words of the last verse, “Ride on, ride
on, in majesty! In lowly pomp ride on to die. Bow Thy meek head to mortal
pain.”
·
Good
Friday: We anguish with the full weight of the burden of our sins as we
miserably sing out, “O sorrow dread/Our God is dead!” from “O Darkest Woe.”
·
Easter:
How can I choose just one joyous hymn to summarize the sweet bliss of this
season?! Our voices join together in the lilting waltz of “Awake, My Heart,
with Gladness,” the glorious irregularity of “Hail Thee, Festival Day,” and the
bursting trumpets with “I Know that My Redeemer Lives.”
·
Ascension:
We harmonize in the sure, stalwart tones of “On Christ’s Ascension I Now
Build,” reminding us of our future in Heaven.
·
End
Times: We chant the haunting “The World is Very Evil,” marveling at the irony
of the well-loved, embedded verse “Jerusalem, the Golden.”
Back on Easter 4
(Jubilate), I was so grateful that singing the hymn “Why Should Cross and Trial
Grieve Me” popped the cork of the ache and angst long kept bottled up in my
heart and gave me a vehicle for navigating pain in the proper context—faith in
Christ. Whether you find yourself happy or sad, joy-filled or sorrowful, elated
or bereaved, the liturgy and hymns of the church will give expression to those
emotions.
However, the
beauty of liturgical music is not just that it recognizes the full range of
human emotions throughout both the service and the church year, but rather that
the focus is never really on our own feelings, or lack thereof. Instead, the
focus of liturgical worship is on the person and work of Christ, who came to
redeem us all, regardless of our emotional state. The liturgy and hymns remind
us, finally, of the one emotion we all truly desire: eternal bliss with Jesus
in Heaven, where “God will wipe away every tear from [our] eyes, [and] there
shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying” (Rev. 21:4).
***
Marie is wife to Ryan, homeschooling hausmutter to their five living children, and redeemed child of God. She used to actively participate in theater, debate team, choir, and international travel, but realizes now that those were merely a foretaste of the joys of her current vocation: managing children’s dramatics, arbitrator of kids’ arguments, singing hymns and lullabies, and sharing unbelievable mission stories. When she’s not caring for her own children, Marie reads extensively, researching natural health, marriage, and parenting. She is the editor of the upcoming book Mothering Many: Sanity-Saving Strategies from Moms of Four or More. Follow her blog at: www.intoyourhandsllc.com/blog
There is so much truth in your post. I have served as organist for a small parish for the last eight years. My teenage daughter still wants me to pray with her and sing a hymn appropriate for the liturgical season before bed. On my wedding day 16 years ago, the pastor of the church I served purposely selected Blest Be the Tie That Binds to see if I could make in through stanza 3.
ReplyDeleteWe share our mutual woes,
our mutual burdens bear,
and often for each other flows
the sympathizing tear.
After grandma passed away, the hymn the following Sunday happened to be Jesus Lives, the Victory's Won.I didn't make it through stanza 5.
Jesus lives! and now is death
But the gate of life immortal;
This shall calm my trembling breath
When I pass its gloomy portal.
Faith shall cry, as fails each sense,
Jesus is my confidence!
God's Word is present and proclaiming in our liturgy and hymnody. Sola Deo Gloria!