Southwood Lutheran Church

Sing to the Mountains

This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24 NIV)

This week we begin singing the song “Sing to the Mountains” as our hymn of praise in worship. Part of the refrain is from Psalm 118: “This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it (vs. 24 NIV).” How do you begin your day? When the alarm clocks tolls, what is your first thought? Do your thoughts race to all that needs to be done during the day. . .appointments to be kept . . .getting kids ready for school? Author James Howell makes these suggestions:

“A day can feel onerous, or perhaps like a leaky sieve, minutes slipping away, too much to do, rushing. But God made the day. The sun comes up and sets because God planned it; there is a divine rhythm to life. Each day is a precious gift, not for you to consume or cram full, but to delight in God the giver of the day; to serve the God who gave you the time. . .

Some simple habits might strangely transform (and calm down) the balance of the day. When you are first jostled from sleep, notice your very first breath—and say, ‘Thank you, Lord.’ The grace of God has added another day to your life; that breath is a divine gift. Focus your eyes, and reflect for a nanosecond on the gift of sight. Hear a cricket, taste the juice, look into the face of your roommate, spouse, child (or your own in the mirror) and for a millisecond thank God for the beauty of that face (even it etched with a crease from the pillow or still devoid of makeup). Develop the habit of momentary gratitude for all the small details that make life worth getting out of bed. . . As you walk downstairs or back out of the driveway, whisper, ‘This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.” However briefly, never start any day without praying, ‘Lord, use me today. Sharpen my vision so I may notice your presence.”¹

1. Howell, James C. 40 Treasured Bible Verses: A Devotional. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011) pg. 15-16.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

The House and the Shack

Last week I cleaned and organized the basement. It hit 105 degrees here in Nebraska, so I figured burrowing into the cool cellar for a few hours wasn’t a bad idea.

I boxed up old toys and books, sucked in cobwebs with the vacuum attachment, rolled up and threw out the dilapidated rug and rearranged some of the furniture. Then I concluded that the bookshelf needed to be shifted over a couple of feet, so that it would be centered on the wall. Since I didn’t want to remove the dozens of books, stack them in piles on the floor, move the shelf and then rearrange all the books again, I decided I’d move the shelf with the books still on it.

I pushed. I pulled. I grunted and groaned and heaved and wrenched my back. The shelf creaked and cracked and threatened to topple. A few paperbacks pitched onto the floor. But the shelf didn’t budge. In the end, after 15 minutes of exhausting exertion and a pulled neck muscle, the shelf was exactly one inch from its original spot. Not two feet. One inch.

I gave up. I left the bookshelf where it was. All my pushing and pulling and sweating and heaving resulted in nothing.

And this, my friends, is the perfect metaphor for my publishing journey.

For the last three years I’ve dedicated hundreds of hours to building a platform. I’ve written more than 700 blog posts, an entire book, a quarter of another and two book proposals. I’ve tweeted, Facebooked, commented, Klouted, emailed, guest-posted and Google Plussed. I’ve pushed and pulled and forced this process along with all my might.

And you know what? I’ve moved it the equivalent of one inch.

Thanks to yesterday’s reading, I now know exactly what I’ve done wrong.

“If God doesn’t build the house, the builders only build shacks. If God doesn’t guard the city, the night watchman might as well nap.” (Psalm 127:1, The Message)

Did you catch that? If God doesn't build the house, the builders only build shacks.

The hard truth is, I’ve tried to build the house all on my own, without God.

Okay, okay, God has sort-of been involved. After all, I write about God every day. I pray. I talk to God. I believe that he inspires my words, and I know that my faith has grown stronger and deeper because of my writing. But still. I have allowed him only a minor role in the construction of this house.

God has been a crewman on this project, not the boss.

As Pastor Michael said in his sermon yesterday, “When it’s apart from God, work becomes labor.”

This publishing journey has been labor -- labor speckled with occasional moments of joy, but mostly labor, with pain, writhing and a fair bit of screaming and cursing.

I know, I know, you’ve heard all this before from me, haven’t you? After all, back on December 31 I resolved to make “surrender” my word for the year. But I haven’t surrendered, not entirely. Or maybe I have…on some days…but then I revert back to my pushing-pulling-grunting-heaving habits all over again.

Good grief I'm a slow learner.

So today, once again (sigh), I surrender. I hand over the plans and the blueprints to God. I allow him his rightful and only role as the foreman, the big boss. And I ask him to forgive me for trying to run the show.

I’m done building the shack. God holds the plans for this house, and he’ll decide whether it will be a mansion or a hut...or something altogether different.

What about you? Have you ever caught yourself trying to build the house all by yourself?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

Lord, When You Came to the Lakeshore

"Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." At once they left their nets and followed him. (Matthew 4:19-20 NIV)

We will sing the hymn “Lord When you Came to the Lakeshore” in worship this Sunday. This hymn was written by a Spanish priest named Cesáreo Gabaraín in 1979. He wrote it just after returning from a trip to the Holy land where he visited Galilee. This hymn has become very popular and has been translated into over eighty languages.¹

As Jesus came down to the lakeshore of Galilee, he found Peter and Andrew, James and John. Jesus was looking for volunteers. He was conducting his own job fair. For Jesus, a specialist in job placement, this was personal. The recruits would be working for, with, around and under his direct supervision. We do not know what conversation took place that day. Only the words of Jesus: “Come, follow me; I will make you fishers of people.” (Matt. 4:19 NIV)

Even today Jesus continues to seek out those who will follow him. It does not matter who we are — man or woman, child, teenager, senior citizen — or where we have been in our lives. Jesus calls us to follow. As common, ordinary people, we are called to carry the Gospel message, the good news of Christ, to all the world. And the greatest job benefit ever offered is in the words of Jesus: “I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matt. 28:20b NIV)

The call to discipleship, to follow Jesus, is for each and every one of us. Jesus is looking for personnel in a very personal way. “You have come to call me.” From the very beginning, the coming of Jesus was personal. The angel said to the shepherds: “I am bringing you good news, for to you this day is born a Savior who is Christ the Lord.” And, in the words of our baptism: “I baptize you.” And as Jesus comes to us in Holy Communion: “This is my body, my blood, given and shed for you.”

Jesus, still today, is personally looking, searching, asking us to follow him. The first disciples had no idea what they were getting into when they began to follow Jesus. Nor do we. So, will we say “yes”? Will we answer his call to “follow me”?²

1. Sing! A New Creation, Leader’s Edition. (Faith Alive Christian Resource: Grand Rapids, MI, 2002) Hymn No. 269.
2. Frank, Larry. “You Have Come Down to the Lakeshore.” Reformation Lutheran Church (Wichita, KS) Website: http://www.reformation-lutheran.org/lent/2008/lent-all.html Date visited: June 25, 2012.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

Wind in my Face

It’s been a while since I’ve felt this good on the running trail. My legs are strong, posture straight, arms loose, breathing even. I’m loping with strides long and fluid, gait smooth. It feels so good, easy and natural, like I could run three or four miles more. “Yeah,” I think to myself, breathing in the humid morning air, “I’ve got it; we're good.” I’m pleased with myself, proud of my progress, confident and strong.

Two miles later I reach the halfway point and turn around at my usual spot to head back. And that’s when it hits me. The force of the wind literally brings me to a standstill. I stand for a few seconds, hands on hips, sweat evaporating, shock written all over my face. How had I not noticed the trees, limbs swaying, branches bending in the stiff breeze? How had I not felt the steady push at my back, the wind propelling me forward for two whole miles? “

No wonder I felt so great,” I think grimly, chin tucked to chest, head down as I battle. “No wonder it's been so easy.” I’ve had the wind at my back all along. And I hadn’t even noticed.

It's easy to trust God when the going is good. In fact, if you’re like me, you might forget to give him credit altogether. But when chaos descends – when the wind reverses direction and barrels headlong into our face – it suddenly becomes obvious that we have a choice. We can blame God...or we can continue to trust him.

“Those who trust in the Lord are as secure as Mount Zion; they will not be defeated but will endure forever. Just as the mountains surround and protect Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds and protects his people, both now and forever.” (Psalm 125)

Pastor Greg said it well yesterday: “The choice is yours, and you need to decide if God is for you or against you. Those who trust in the Lord decide that God is for them.” No matter the circumstances.

Frankly, it’s easier to choose blame. There have been times, many times, when I’ve felt abandoned by God, times when I’ve lamented that he can’t be found, that he’s not listening, that he doesn't care about me. I’ve blamed him for my circumstances and doubted his presence. I’ve even doubted his existence.

The more difficult choice, of course, is trust. Trust requires faith – faith that God is there, even when he seems absent. Faith that he loves us unconditionally and blesses us always, despite what our immediate circumstances might indicate. Faith that he does not cause our trouble, but walks through it alongside us instead.

I'll be honest: faith doesn't come naturally to me. I have to fight for it. I don't necessarily always feel faith in my gut, in my heart, like some believers might. Instead, I consciously and deliberately choose it, day in and day out.

Slowly, slowly, I am learning to choose trust, to choose faith – believing that God’s got my back…even when the wind is strong in my face.

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

Precious Lord, Take My Hand

For I am the LORD, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you. (Isaiah 41:13 NIV)

“Precious Lord, Take My Hand” is a hymn written by Thomas A. Dorsey after a tragedy. Knowing the story behind the hymn helps bring new meaning and shares a powerful testimony:

“Out of a broken heart after his wife and newly born son had both died, Thomas A. Dorsey cried to his Lord to lead him ‘through the storm, through the night.’ In doing so, he created lines that have since ministered to others in an unusual way. This tender song, written by a black gospel musician in 1932, has since been a favorite with Christians everywhere.

Thomas A. Dorsey grew up in Georgia as a ‘preacher’s kid.’ As he began to be successful as a composer of jazz and blues songs, however, he drifted away from God. After it seemed to him that he was miraculously spared in brushes with death, Dorsey came back to the Lord. As his life dramatically changed he began to write gospel songs and to sing in church services. It was during a revival meeting in St. Louis, Missouri, that he received a telegram telling the tragic news of his wife and infant son. Stunned and grief-stricken, Dorsey cried, ‘God, you aren’t worth a dime to me right now!’

A few weeks later, however, as Dorsey fingered the keyboard of a piano, he created the lines of ‘Precious Lord’ to fit a tune that was familiar to him. The following Sunday the choir of the Ebenezer Baptist Church in South Chicago, Illinois, sang the new song with Dorsey playing the accompaniment. ‘It tore up the church!’ God continued to lead Thomas Dorsey by the hand until he had written more than two hundred fifty gospel songs. ¹

1. Osbeck, Kenneth W. Amazing Grace (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1990, 2002), pg. 251.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

The Helpmehelpmehelpme Prayer

Ten years ago, on my first day back to work after a year and a half of being a stay-at-home mom, I greeted my new officemate, settled into my chair, switched on my desk lamp and turned toward the keyboard. Not even three minutes into my brand-new job, and I already had a problem…and it was an embarrassing one: I couldn’t figure out how to turn on my computer.

Panic, self-doubt and shame washed over me as I frantically searched the keyboard and the monitor for the on switch. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to do this,” I berated myself. “I knew I shouldn’t have applied for this job. I knew I was going to be a total failure.” I swiveled toward my officemate, who was busily typing. “Um, can I interrupt you for just a second?”I asked. “Ah, this is kind of embarrassing…but I can’t figure out how to turn on my computer.” In the brief moment before she pointed to the switch on the black tower under my desk, I glimpsed hesitation slide across her features. I could tell she wondered if I was going to make it.

As it turned out, that first question was the first of many to follow in the days and weeks as I settled in my new job. I inquired about the printer, the location of the microwave, the proper formatting for news releases, where the supply closet was located, how to sign my timesheet, the extension for the IT department. I asked what felt like a relentless stream of questions, and although my officemate and other coworkers were remarkably patient and gracious in offering help, after a while, I began to feel ashamed by my seemingly constant need for assistance. I didn’t want to ask for help anymore. I felt like the answer window was closing, and it was time to figure out the rest of it on my own.

I remembered those humbling and terrifying new-job fears and insecurities yesterday when we read Psalm 124 in church. And I thought about how grateful I am that God’s answer window never closes.

“Our help is in the name of the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.” (Psalm 124:8)

The prayer I utter to God most often is this one:“Helpmehelpmehelpmehelpme.” I know. It’s not eloquent. It’s not fancy. It’s more than a little self-centered. Frankly, it must get a little old to be God and hear me mumbling the same pathetic prayer over and over. But what’s simply amazing is that God never stops offering help. He hears my desperation, he hears my panic time and time again, and he doesn’t ever turn away. He never says, “Michelle, your grace period is over. It’s time to figure it out on your own.”

I may not hear an answer to my plea for help right away. I may eventually hear a different answer from the one I desire. But I know I can keep asking. I know he listens. And I find so much comfort in that.

What's your most frequently uttered prayer?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

Jesus Loves Me

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." (Matthew 19:14 NIV)

This Sunday our Adult and Youth Summer Choirs will join together in singing a version of the beloved song “Jesus Loves Me.” The lyrics are timeless and speak not only to children, but whole great truth for adults as well. May we never outgrow the joy of singing this song!

“Jesus loves me! He who died, Heaven’s gates to open wide. He will wash away my sin, Let His little child come in.” “For the little child in all of us, this hymn was found in an old hymnal listed under “The Life of Christ—Love and Gratitude.” That means it was not always relegated to children’s church and Sunday School. At one time it was a regular hymn like the rest. And well it should be. If the kingdom of heaven is made up of such as the little ones, then we must never outgrow this song. As children, the Father meets us and affirms His love. As children, we are accepted before any attempts at earning His love. As children, we believe with total trust. As children, we worship in wide-eyed wonder. As His children, we react to our Father with unguarded emotions and uncalculated joy. As children, we cry when we are hurt. And as children, we are comforted. Little ones to Him belong. Time to revel in our unabashed littleness. In a world of big, it’s nice to come to God and be little again.” ¹

1. Fischer, John. Be Thou My Vision. (Ann Arbor, Michigan: Servant Publications) pg. 311.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

Look to the Mountains

About ten years ago Brad and I went camping in the back country of Glacier National Park in Montana. We hiked about 11 miles in to the campsite, where Brad erected the tent on a lovely plateau. Far below us a glacial lake sparkled the blue-green shade of Aquafresh, and above us, enveloping us, the mountains loomed. It was the most beautiful spot I had ever seen. Over our dinner of macaroni and cheese and a Hershey’s Special bar we watched the mountains glow azalea pink as the sun set, and then we tucked into our flannel and fleece for the night.

Two hours later, about midnight or so, I awakened with a jolt. The wind had picked up, and the nylon tent flapped violently as gusts shuddered across the plateau. I panicked. Suddenly I was sweating, dizzy, nauseous.

“Brad! Brad! I feel gross! I think I’m going to throw-up!"

I shook him awake – of course he was sleeping peacefully through it all. “Are we okay?! The tent! The tent! It’s blowing over! I think I’m going to throw up!”

Brad assured me that we were indeed okay, something about the tent material and its tendency to flap loudly in the even the most innocuous breeze.

I decided I needed some fresh air to quell the nausea, so crawled out onto the rock in my socks and stood up. But gazing up at those looming mountains, the glacial snow ripping dramatic, ghostly swaths of white across the darkness, was even worse, even more terrifying. A baffling mix of agoraphobia and claustrophobia swept through me as I stood on the rock shivering in my flannel pjs, my arms wrapped around my chest. The land was so monstrously vast that I felt squashed, like the mountains were an enormous vice squeezing the breath from my body. Suddenly the reality that I was trapped – stuck in this big, lonely, scary place, eleven miles on foot from civilization in moonless, bear-ridden blackness – horrified me.

I ducked back into the tent. “It’s not helping!” I gasped to Brad. “I feel weird! I want to leave! Can we leave now?”

Brad stared at me in disbelief. “Now? Are you kidding? How do you think we’re going to find our way back to the lodge in the middle of the night?”

I realized, of course, that he was right; leaving was impossible. I felt gaggy.

I started to cry. The rest of the night I dozed with my face pressed into a tiny opening in the zipped tent flap, trying to negotiate a balance somewhere between in and out of the tent. Brad was sweet and remarkably patient, especially given the fact that no one in his entire extended family would have ever acted like such a wackjob on a camping trip. At 5 a.m. we packed up our campsite and began the eleven-mile hike back out. The next night we spent in a lodge. All in all, it was not my best moment.

I was reminded of that camping disaster yesterday when I heard these verses from Psalm 121:

“I look up to the mountains; does my strength come from the mountains? No, my strength comes from God, who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.” (1-2, The Message)

I didn’t believe in God at the time I spent that terrified night in the backcountry of Glacier National Park. I wonder now, if I had, would I have perhaps experienced awe rather than simply fear? Or at least awe mixed with fear? I wonder if I would have looked at those massive, looming peaks and felt amazed at God’s power, his awesomeness and might, instead of feeling overwhelmed by my insignificance, smallness and mortality.

Unfortunately, fear alone prevailed that night in the Montana mountains; it took another decade or so for the beginnings of awe and wisdom to follow. But today, nearly 15 years later, as I read those verses from Psalm 121, I’m grateful that I do believe in a God that big, that awesome, that astoundingly and beautifully overwhelming. Sure, I still feel small in the face of such grandeur, in the face of God and the landscape he created, but I don’t feel nearly as insignificant. Because now I know that the God who created the majestic Rocky Mountains also created me.

When's the last time you were simply awed by God? And what prompted that reaction?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

He Keeps Me Singing

“About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them.” (Acts 16:25 NRSV)

Do you love to sing? Where are you likely to sing . . at home, in the car, in church, at the ballpark? In this text from Acts, we find Paul singing in prison. “Jesus was the song of Paul’s heart. Otherwise he would not have been able to sing hymns to God in the prison at midnight. Paul and Silas visited Philippi to proclaim the Gospel of Jesus Christ. When Paul cast out an evil spirit from a fortune-telling slave girl, the two of them were severely flogged and thrown into prison in the inner cell with their feet in stocks. Their prospects were dismal. Yet at midnight they prayed and sang songs from their heart in earshot of the other prisoners. Their song expressed their confident faith in Jesus and a bold witness to the prison under dire circumstances. “Suddenly an earthquake shook the prison. All chains were broken. The jailer nearly committed suicide, thinking the prisoners had escaped. Paul had opportunity to spare his life and more important to answer his desperate question –‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’—with the song of his heart, ‘Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved—you and your household’ (Acts 16:30-31 ESV). Songs in the night heard, God’s Spirit working through Paul’s clear Gospel witness, the jailer and his family believed and were baptized. “When dire circumstances come into your life, when your faith is sorely tested, sometimes because of your faithful witness to Jesus, God’s Spirit will work through His Word so you hear again Jesus as the song of your heart. Your witness in improbable circumstances may well bring others to faith in the Savior.”¹

1. Carter, Stephen. Witness to the Light. (St. Louis, MO: Concordia Publishing House, 2006.) Devotion for January 15.

Will You Come and Follow Me

The beautiful hymn “Will You Come and Follow Me” was written by John Bell. John Bell was born in and resides in Scotland. He is a liturgical composer who writes cooperatively with colleagues in Glasgow. He has a deep interest in music from non-European cultures and a passion for song of the Assembly. In May, I had the opportunity to go to a conference in Atlanta, Georgia and hear John Bell present a series of workshops on music and worship. It was a great joy to listen to him lead songs that he has written and witness his passion first hand.

“'Will you come and follow me’ (called ‘The Summons’ in The Faith We Sing) is perhaps the most famous of Mr. Bell’s hymns. The hymn appeared initially in the first collection of music produced by the Wild Goose Worship Group, Heaven Shall Not Wait: Songs of Creation, the Incarnation, and the Life of Jesus (1987). The song asks a series of 13 questions, perhaps a record in the annals of hymnody.

Characteristic of Mr. Bell’s style, the text is prophetic, using many words not usually found in traditional hymns. ‘The Summons’ of Christ is to a radical Christianity. We are challenged to ‘leave yourself behind’ and to ‘risk the hostile stare’ (stanza two), ‘set the prisoner free’ and ‘kiss the leper clean’ (stanza three), and ‘use the faith you’ve found to reshape the world around’ (stanza four).

The tune is a traditional Scottish ballad entitled KELVINGROVE, named after a section of Glasgow. Mr. Bell often uses traditional melodies from Ireland, Scotland and England for his hymns. These tried and true tunes make the songs not only singable, but often provide a Celtic flavor that is popular today.

For Mr. Bell, the purpose for singing is to engage people in a fuller participation in the congregation’s song, stretch their faith and encourage them to live in a manner that reflects justice.”¹

1. Hawn, C. Michael. HISTORY OF HYMNS: Bell’s Scottish hymn gives radical summons. ©2012 UMR Communications, Inc. Date visited: May 20, 2012. http://www.umportal.org/article.asp?id=6012