Southwood Lutheran Church

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.

Tuesday Tales from June 24, 2012

This past Sunday the puppets may have been small in nature, but those beatles sure could sing! The theme this week was "Help" and those beatle songs sure did help get the point across. 

 

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.

Tuesday Tales from June 17, 2012

No you're not seeing double, but you are seeing two Pastor Michael's! And Luther is caught in the middle. Thankfully one is a puppet, but they're both full of puns. 

 

See all puppet skits at southwoodlutheran.org

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.

 

Tuesday Tales from June 10, 2012

The puppets appeared in worship again this past Sunday (and will all summer long). This week they talked about advertisements and repentance. How do those work together? Watch and see! 

  

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.

Tuesday Tales from June 3, 2012

This summer puppets are joining us in worship for the children's message. Follow along and watch the puppets each week—especially if you were on the road one Sunday!

 

Bringing Hope to Honduras

On Saturday, I will be flying to Honduras with 31 other team members for a dental/medical mission trip. We will be traveling to different villages every day, helping the people with problems with their teeth, eyes, or just their overall health. We’ve been planning this trip for close to nine months now, and I think I can speak on behalf of everyone when I say this: we can hardly contain our excitement.

I’m excited to go back for many reasons, but the thing I’m looking forward to the most is meeting Milca Vaneges. She is the daughter of Pastor Monolo and Roxana, the pastor and his wife of our sister church, La Ceibita. I met her first when she was in the womb, about two months before she was born in 2010. Our team had a baby shower for Roxana, and I’ve said that I’ve loved Milca ever since. Ever since then, other teams have gone down and met her, held her, and given her lots of love and hugs, but now I get the chance to finally meet her face to face. I get to love on the little girl I’ve been praying for since before she was alive, and tell her face-to-face, te quiero, which means “I love you.”

Next week, I ask that you pray for our team as we go into some of the most impoverished villages, and try to bring hope to the people, and pray that we take the spotlights off of ourselves and focus our hearts on the people we’re serving, because that’s when God will really be able to use us.

—Jenna Olson