Sermon 1/20/08

A Song for Life

SCRIPTURE READING: John 1:29-34

“He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God.”

One of my most cherished memories of song and its ability to transform our hearts, minds and lives comes not from the many great oratorios I have experienced, not from the many moving anthems I’ve heard in worship, nor from the many grand concerts I’ve attended. One of my most cherished memories of song and its power to transform comes from my the mouth of my daughter, Anna-Marie when she was three, maybe four years of age, (exact recall is an elusive thing at 50).

Anna-Marie as a young child loved to sing. All day long she would sing non-stop—resting only when she ate and even then she was often humming at the dinner table. Some of time she would sing songs she learned in pre-school. But most of time she would sing songs that she made up. She would make up songs about whatever she happened to be doing in a given a moment. If she was getting herself dressed, she would sing songs of joy for clothes she was wearing that day. If she was playing with her stuffed animals, she would sing songs about what they were doing in her imaginary world. If she was playing in the bathtub, Anna would sing songs about the water, her bath toys and silly games they would play together. Anna-Banana, as we affectionately called her, would even make up songs to sing while she was going potty. From the moment her eyes opened each morning, to the moment they closed at night, Anna-Marie would sing.

Song was her way of expressing her delight in life, and delightful it was to hear this child’s songs of play, praise and thanksgiving—most of the time.

I was on the way home from work one wintry evening, completely exhausted and cranky from the particular demands of the day. I picked up Anna-Marie and her brother Adrian from their pre-school in Orford, New Hampshire. We lived in Vermont just across the Connecticut River and a bit south of Orford. On the drive home, Adrian was in his normal chatty mood, sharing all the details of his day and asking too many “Why” questions. Anna-Banana was lost in her own world singing away. Frustrated by my own tiredness and Adrian’s hundredth “why” question, I abruptly turned around and asked them to please be quiet for five minutes. In that split second, I hit a patch of ice and car spun out of control, pushing us up into the hillside and not, thank God, off the sheer drop on the other side leading down to the river.

Shaking and crying, I checked to make sure my babies were okay. Adrian, seeing the fear and concern on my face, immediately asked, “Mom, are you o.k.?” I assured him I was. To which he immediately responded, “Hey Mom, that was a really cool trick! Can you do it again?” I told him that real driving is not like playing with his matchbox cars and we don’t really want to be doing 360’s on the road, especially a mountain road. I told both of them that we had hit a patch of ice and thankfully in the spin we had been pushed up into the hillside.

Still shaking and a bit and teary-eyed, I got out to see what damage had been done to the car. I noticed that the rear wheel had been completely peeled off of its rim as we slid into the mountainside. I fearfully wondered what we were going to do with the temperatures quickly dropping and nightfall upon us. Then, I heard Anna-Marie singing in her car seat. This time she was singing one of her Sunday School songs:

God is so good,

God’s so good to me.

God hears our prayers,

God’s so good to me.

God loves me so,

God’s so good to me.

In that moment, my fear and trembling gave way to hope. My doubt gave way to a quiet confidence that somehow God would provide a way for us to safely make it home. I got back in the car and took a moment to pray. I gave thanks for Anna’s sweet voice of joy, calming my fears and restoring my faith that God is good and God is ever-present. I remembered the psalms and their constant assurance that we are never alone or left abandoned. God is always with us and will deliver us.

Within half an hour help was on the way in the form of a local Vermont farmer. He was on his way home from working his second pasture up the road a ways. He saw the car and immediately stopped. I was most grateful, even exuberant, something Vermont farmers are not accustomed to seeing. But few cars are seen traveling Vermont roads after dark. He loaded all three of us into his warm truck and drove us to the nearest phone booth (remember those) to call a tow truck. This man then proceeded to drive us all the way home, a good twenty-minute drive out of his way. Like many a farmer in those parts of the woods, he was a man of few words. But his kindness spoke volumes. And the whole drive home, Anna Banana continued to sing. This time, though, it was not her Sunday School song, but one she made up about riding in that big ‘ole green truck.

That evening when I went to bed, I couldn’t get Anna’s singing out of my head. And I gave thanks for her delight in life, the simple songs she made up, and the simple Sunday School song of praise and thanksgiving that transformed my heart and my head. That simple song brought me calmness and hope in that moment of crisis.

How often do we, like the psalmist, find ourselves in places along life’s journey where we are distressed and anxious, overwhelmed and fearful, depressed and even despairing? How often do we, like the psalmist, feel that we too are in a pit of mud and mire, bogged down by situations, circumstances beyond our control and ready to swallow us up in a moment’s notice? How often do we feel as if there is little to no hope for redemption? How often do we feel hopeless when we have been cast aside by those we love, and with whom chances of reconciliation seem bleak. How often do we feel as though God has abandoned us when our prayers seem to go unanswered and longing and suffering continue companioned with a sense of desperate emptiness?

I am convinced that it is in those moments that singing the songs of faith, the songs of life, are most helpful. We need to sing the songs of our faith tradition – hymns, psalms, spirituals, anthems, even simple Sunday School songs like:

Jesus loves me this I know,

for the Bible tells me so.

Little ones to Him belong,

They are weak, but He is strong.

Even though we may not feel like singing, it is in singing that we are reminded of the truth and foundation of our baptismal faith—we are named and claimed by God forever. We are God’s chosen, loved and beloved, unconditionally. Singing reminds and assures us that God is ever-present and God will never abandon us. Singing reminds us of our faith and ultimate hope that by grace we are saved, redeemed and reconciled. Singing assures us again of God’s ability to draw us up from the pit, and restore us to walk on solid ground again. Singing the songs of faith help us remember that no matter how dark, dismal our situation may be, light, God’s light, will shine in the darkness, lifting us out of the miry bog and setting our feet upon a solid rock to see the dawn of a new day, in this earthly life and the life to come.

One of my great joys as a pastor is journeying alongside people in their dying. I have sat by many a bedside reading words of scripture, quietly praying, and joyfully, tearfully singing hymns of our faith along with the dying’s family members. Most of time, the minute the gathered begin singing, the dying one’s heart rate steadies, their labored breathing eases, and they recline into God’s peace.

I’ve witnessed many of these sacred moments and so have many others. This is now why there’s an organization called The Threshold Choir whose members go and sing at the bedside of the dying. There are 35 chapters in a dozen states and each chapter has between 80 and a hundred members. Each chapter has a 300-piece repetoire from which to draw and by invitation groups of two or three go and sing at the bedsides of those who are dying. It is their ministry, one that helps bring peace and joy to those who are in the final stage of this earthly life.

The songs of our faith offer strength and courage, comfort and solace, encouragement and hope and joy. But even more, they are songs for life as they witness to the saving, life-giving faith that we find in God through Jesus. And they call us to sing out with joy about our faith with the songs on our lips and with our very lives. God’s love and grace, God’s justice, is meant to be shared, not hidden away in a closet, or left to sing about only in the shower. As the psalmist has said, “I do not hide your righteousness in my heart; I speak of your faithfulness and salvation. I do not conceal your love, your truth from the great congregation.”

Consider, if you will, our hymn, How Firm a Foundation:

How firm a foundation, O saints of the Lord,

Is laid for your faith in God’s excellent word!

What more can God say, than to you has been said,

To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled.

Fear not, I am with, O be not dismayed,

For I am your God, and will still give you aid;

I’ll strengthen you, help you, and cause you to stand,

Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

The souls that on Jesus have leaned for repose

I will not, I will not desert to their foes;

Those souls, though all hell should endeavor to shake,

I’ll never, no never, no never forsake.

God’s Word is sure. God’s radical love is all-embracing. God’s grace is abundant. And we cannot ever be separated from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Isn’t that worth singing about.

Sermon preached by Reverend Jane Anderson at First Congregational United Church of Christ, Appleton, Wisconsin on January 20, 2008.