Summer Series: Influences #1—"What Shall I Render to the Lord"

I've decided I'm going to do a series of posts over the summer about specific influences I recognize as having a large impact in shaping my outlook, behavior, or taste. Some will be musical examples, some will be book passages, some might be events. Some I will have realized their impact at the time, and others I will have only recognized the impact looking back.

I'm starting with "What Shall I Render to the Lord" by Richard Hillert. It is the Offertory from Divine Service Setting 1 in Lutheran Service Book. I wish I could find a good video that has good singing in it, but the organ-only video below is the best I can do. The text is below and is drawn from Psalm 116:

What shall I render to the Lord for all His benefits to me?

I will offer the sacrifice of thanksgiving and will call on the name of the Lord.

I will take the cup of salvation and will call on the name of the Lord.

I will pay my vows to the Lord now in the presence of all His people,in the courts of the Lord's house, in the midst of you, O Jerusalem.

I grew up singing this in church roughly every other week. I always liked it, but I don't think I appreciated it as much as I should have until the churches I attend/work for stopped using it for various reasons. I've probably only sang it in services ten times or so in the last decade, and I miss singing it.

One great thing about the liturgy is that you memorize the texts since you sing them so regularly. I still have the text of this canticle memorized even though I rarely sing it anymore. I consider this a great thing because this text helped me properly value three ideas linked to three phrases in the canticle:

     

     1.  "I will offer the sacrifice of thanksgiving..."

         Many people talk about what we must give to God for Him to be pleased with us. They say belief and faith is all well and good, but it is nothing without some sort of additional work, or effort, or sacrifice. Contrast that with how Psalm 116 and, consequently, the canticle deal with the idea of a sacrifice in response to the benefits God gives to us. The sacrifice offered is thanksgiving. We have nothing to give to God. God is the one doing the giving. We receive and give thanks, recognizing that all good gifts come from God, and nothing we have is our own.

            

      2. "...and will call on the name of the Lord."

          This phrase being repeated twice in a short canticle really drives home the point that all times are the right time to call on the name of the Lord. God has created us, saved us, sustains us, protects us, does all things for us, and gives all things to us. There is never a bad time to call on the name of the One who holds the entire universe in His hands.

     
     3.  "I will pay my vows to the Lord now in the presence of all His people, in the courts of the Lord's house, in the midst of you, O Jerusalem."

          The ending of the canticle helped teach me to value attending church. Some people think they can do it on their own apart from attending church, but it is a huge gift to have the support and accountability of gathering corporately. It holds us accountable to ourselves in helping us realize when we are breaking the 1st commandment and valuing other things above God in our lives and in how we are using the gifts God has given us. It provides encouragement and witness to others within the Lord's house, while also giving us accountability with them to be faithful together. And it provides witness to the greater community around the church of our recognition that we are not our own—that we and our time, talents, and treasures belong to God. This means our priorities and behaviors might seem very strange to those outside the church, but having them notice and witness this "strangeness" is a great thing and an opportunity to provide further witness.

Another reason I'm starting with this canticle in this series is I've told multiple people that I blame this canticle and the liturgy setting it is from for why I'm a professional musician. I've also come to the realization that it had a huge impact on my musical taste and musicianship. First, It is very crafted music, and it has some difficulty to it. It is very difficult to hear once and have completely in your head. It is music that must be lived with. The melody requires vocal flexibility to sing, and the long phrases require good breath support and control to make it through.  I had to train myself to become a good musician to sing it properly, and I was singing this canticle long before I had any formal musical training.

Second, it blends new and old wonderfully. It has qualities of chant and modal writing indicative of centuries ago, but it also shows elements of a more modern harmonic approach indicative to 20th century classical music. It creates a sort of timeless sound. Much of my favorite music has this same sort of timeless quality and blend of old and new.

Lastly, it is thoughtful music. It helped teach me that music doesn't have to be flashy to be powerful—it doesn't have to be fast, it doesn't have to be loud, it doesn't have to be triumphant. Sometimes the most powerful music is the music that gives a sense of quiet resolve. There is power in music when there is recognition that some will miss the point or not understand, but it holds true to its underlying priorities of service to a text and the truth it conveys anyway. Thoughtful music is in it for the long game. Flash comes and goes, but the truth thoughtful music centers itself around will not.

The little that never runs out

I'm a bit behind in writing this, but the Old Testament reading in the lectionary last week was the story of Elijah and The Widow of Zarephath in 1 Kings 17: 8-16 [ESV]:

Then the word of the Lord came to him, “Arise, go to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and dwell there. Behold, I have commanded a widow there to feed you.” So he arose and went to Zarephath. And when he came to the gate of the city, behold, a widow was there gathering sticks. And he called to her and said, “Bring me a little water in a vessel, that I may drink.” And as she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, “Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand.” And she said, “As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. And now I am gathering a couple of sticks that I may go in and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it and die.” And Elijah said to her, “Do not fear; go and do as you have said. But first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterward make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty, until the day that the Lord sends rain upon the earth.’” And she went and did as Elijah said. And she and he and her household ate for many days. The jar of flour was not spent, neither did the jug of oil become empty, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah.

God told Elijah that he had commanded a widow there to feed him, but the widow didn't seem to know this when Elijah asked for food. She only had a little flour and a little oil, and was prepared to make one last meal of bread, eat it, and die! It appears like she had so little she had despaired of earthly provision. But God was there nonetheless.

She heard the promises of Elijah about what the Lord would do for her, and the little she had became the little that did not run out.

The world tends to measure provision in money, food, or possessions, or even good health, happiness, or lack of suffering. But plenty of God's children find themselves without some or all of these things. Yet, God surely provides for His children, even if the world is blind in seeing His provision.

God provides and sustains faith--sometimes maybe only the size of a mustard seed. But even just a little faith provided and sustained by God becomes the little that never runs out, even when all of the things the world looks to are gone. Even in death.

The closing stanza of the hymn "Jesus Lives! The Victory's Won" comes to mind:

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!

--Lutheran Service Book #490

I wonder if the widow was planning to eat and die out of despair, or if she planned to meet death in the knowledge faith brings that death couldn't hurt her. Maybe she was secure in accepting what God provided to sustain her, even when this means all earthly things have been taken away and meeting death in faith.

God's provision surely does sometimes include earthly wealth, health, happiness, and comfort. I'm thankful that I have been blessed with always having ample provision of my earthly needs. It is not hard to accept these gifts of provision from God. But we can learn with the widow to accept the provision God gives even when it means using up the very last of our earthly store and being unafraid of death. For with the confidence of faith provided and sustained by God, we can walk through death as the gate of life immortal.

Yes, we surely can be content in all circumstances and rejoice in the Lord always. For God provides us with and sustains us in faith, which, no matter how small a gift the world sees this faith as, is the little that never runs out.

On the Cross Our Sins Christ Carried (Baptism Hymn)

I've shared on this blog before a few of my original hymn texts, but there are many I've written that I haven't shared. The 4th hymn text I wrote was for a hymn for use at Baptisms, and I think the time has come to finally put it up here. You can find the text below, but let me explain why today is the perfect day to share it.

In Love Christ Shed His Tears

Yesterday was a good day. Yesterday, I got to see a hymn I had written in print for the first time in the Winter 2014 issue of Lutheran Forum. (The hymn text is included as the end of this post if you have limited time and need/want to skip my ramblings on my hymnwriting journey to this point)

Surprised by Contentment

I spend a lot of time alone practicing, and much of that time is spent being dissatisfied. Serious musicians have honed their ability to spot weaknesses and flaws in order to fix them. Dissatisfaction comes easily and naturally. What is hard to find is contentment.

I received the gift of a fleeting moment of contentment during my practice today. It wasn't the result of playing perfectly, I still have work to do tomorrow, but it was there nonetheless. It actually surprised me when it came.

Singing our glorious confidence.

This last week was a great week. I attended the Level II organist workshop put on by Concordia Theological Seminary. I made new friends from around the country, was encouraged as I continue my efforts to become a better organist, enjoyed five days full of wonderful classes on service playing and theology, and attended at least two chapel services a day every day.

We sang so many hymns and Psalms together in class and chapel, but one stanza we sang in particular stands out as a highlight moment of the week. This is the sixth and final stanza of the hymn "Lord Jesus Christ, with Us Abide" by Philipp Melanchthon [Lutheran Service Book 585]:

Stay with us, Lord, and keep us true;
Preserve our faith our whole life through--
Your Word alone our heart's defense,
The Church's glorious confidence.

I may write in more detail about topics from this week in the future, but this stanza sums up nicely the focus of the workshop: The Word of God. We certainly discussed music since it was an organist workshop, but the focus was on the ministerial function of music as servant to the Word of God. All of the music we looked at and sang is in service of teaching the content of the Word of God, writing it on our hearts and minds, and putting it ever on our lips. For the Word of God gives and preserves faith our whole lives through, defends our hearts, and truly is our glorious confidence unto life everlasting. And it is the song of the Church that she sings with one voice unified in proclamation.

Sing along with me

I received a great compliment today. I helped with music for the first time at the Saturday night service at Holy Cross last weekend. I played keyboard for all the songs, and sang lead on 2 1/2 of them. I've led many the service over the years, but I surprised a lot of people since I'd never done so on Saturday at Holy Cross before. I've received many compliments from people saying I have a great voice, but the compliment I received today was different and more appreciated. The compliment I received today, after she said she enjoyed my music on Saturday, was "it was easy for me to follow along and sing with you."

I can only remember completely losing my singing voice once in my life. It was March 17, 2013. I remember the exact day because it was the day after moving, and I was supposed to sing tenor in the Schola Cantorum for their Lenten Vespers service. Instead, I was sick, and while I could speak with great effort, I couldn't sing a note no matter how hard I tried. I still attended the service, but instead of singing with the choir, I sat in the congregation unable to even sing along with any of the liturgy or hymns. Lenten and Holy Week hymns are my favorite hymns, Kramer Chapel is a fantastic place to sing in, and I knew and loved all of the choral and congregational music, but I couldn't sing. I sat there with my hymnal open, and read the text as everyone sang for me--not sang around me--sang for me.

There weren't 1,000 people there, but like the hymns "Oh, That I had a Thousand Voices" or "Oh, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing" wish, the rest of congregation were my "Thousand Voices/Tongues" that day singing for me the words I desperately wished to proclaim and silently joined in confessing. Nonetheless, as a musician, not being able to sing was a bit like being temporarily crippled. I really wanted to sing along. That service was still a blessing I am thankful for, but I am also thankful for the blessing that I have only been completely unable to sing that one time.

If I were the best singer in the world, but sang in a way that was hard to sing along with, it might discourage you to sing and would be like stealing your voice. I am never shy in singing in church, but this is not to steal your voice and replace it with my own, rather to give my voice as support to those who, for whatever reason, have trouble singing or can't sing. I am aware that I have been gifted with more musical talent than some, but I would much rather sing with you than sing in a way that makes you stifle your own voice. That is why I found being told I was easy to sing along with such a high compliment.

As stanza 7 of Lutheran Service Book 528, "Oh, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing" says:

To God all glory, praise, and love
     Be now and ever giv'n
By saints below and saints above,
     The Church in earth and heav'n.

May we always join our individual voices into the corporate voice of the Church to sing the prayers and songs of the Church of all times and of all places.

Lord Jesus, Think on Me

I was a reader before I started working to be a writer, and I was a listener before I started working to be a musician.

I want to be a hymn-writer. I guess you could say I already am one, but, much like I'm still working on becoming a musician, I'm still working on this writing thing.

I want to be a hymn-writer because, as a hymn-lover, I find within hymns a clear confession of faith and a great source of comfort. So, while I'm working on the writing part with failing thoughts, I'll take comfort in reading of the One whose thoughts do not fail.

~~~~~~~~~

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               And purge away my sin;
               From worldly passions set me free
               And make me pure within.

"Pastor! There's a sick call to be made. You must go to Sjöstugan. [. . .] It is Frans, a heart attack, they think. You'll have to hurry, Pastor."

               Lord Jesus, think on me,
               By anxious thoughts oppressed;
               Let me your loving servant be
               And taste Your promised rest.

Fridfeldt saw at once that there was little he could do here. The old man was obviously already paralyzed and entirely unconscious. Now and then he spoke a few incoherent words.
[. . .]
Fridfeldt sat down on the edge of the bed. He tried to talk with the sick man, but there was no sign of recognition. He bent over and shouted in the man's ear, but received no recognizable answer. Occasionally they could make out what the old man said, but he spoke of far-away, distant things, about rock blasting and oxen.

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               Amid the battle's strife;
               In all my pain and misery,
               O be my health and life.

"Father was always such a good man," said the weeping daughter. "I know, of course, that he will have it better now, but it is so hard to part with him."

"When I got here," she continued after a moment, "I said, 'You are are thinking about Jesus, are you not, Father?' And he answered me, 'I am not able to, Lena. I can't think any longer. But I know that Jesus is thinking of me.'"

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               Nor let me go astray
               Through darkness and perplexity
               Point out Your chosen way.

The pastor sat in silence. The truth that Jesus is thinking of the sick one seemed to him a comforting pillow on which to rest one's head when death is near.

               Lord Jesus, think on me
               That when this life is past,
               I may the eternal brightness see
               And share Your joy at last.

~~~~~~~~~~

Quote sources:

The Hammer of God by Bo Giertz, (pp. 163-65)

"Lord Jesus, Think on Me." Lutheran Service Book 610