Part of the Dream

Last night, scrolling through Facebook, I saw a post from an old friend. She was a summer intern at my first church in Charlotte, now a fellow seminary graduate and an ordained Presbyterian pastor.

Her post reflected on a Saturday well-spent, with good food, beautiful fall weather, and a favorite tv program. And she added, “also held a funeral for a beloved kind and joy filled saint” at her church, noting, “that is part of the dream too.”

That last part got me.

As you probably know, we are in a season of loss here at WCC. A season when we are saying goodbye to five members of our worshipping community who passed in one short span of time late last month and early this one. But also grieving the loss of extended family members and friends, remembering the first anniversaries of some other passings, and preparing for All Saints Day very soon.

We will have a long list of names to share on that day, as we sit in the sanctuary and stand out in the columbarium, and it will be hard, and holy, and beautiful.

I forget that this, too, is part of the dream of our life together. That we get to stand with one another at the side of the grave, and pronounce that death does not get the last word. That we get to cherish words of resurrection, not as empty promises but as firm hope.

That we get to do this together, after so many months when we couldn’t do it at all, or when memorial services were held in empty sanctuaries with livestreams, or attendance was sparing and counted in the single digits. When we could only call or text or stand outside in summer heat or winter cold to share our condolences.

Now, we get to stand with one another. We get to share hugs again, and sing hymns aloud, and raise our voices in the affirmation of faith that says, “neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

We get to celebrate lives well-lived to the glory of God, while also mourning their loss and admitting when those lives felt cut short or we can’t make sense of their ending.

But we get to do it together. And this, too, as my friend said so wisely, is part of the dream.

So in these coming weeks, as we will gather together several more times to remember dear friends and give witness to the resurrection, let us also remember: that this, too, is a gift. This hope. These friends.

And God is with us in all the pain, and hope, and holiness of it.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

-Pastor Jen

Part of the Dream

Last night, scrolling through Facebook, I saw a post from an old friend. She was a summer intern at my first church in Charlotte, now a fellow seminary graduate and an ordained Presbyterian pastor.

Her post reflected on a Saturday well-spent, with good food, beautiful fall weather, and a favorite tv program. And she added, “also held a funeral for a beloved kind and joy filled saint” at her church, noting, “that is part of the dream too.”

That last part got me.

As you probably know, we are in a season of loss here at WCC. A season when we are saying goodbye to five members of our worshipping community who passed in one short span of time late last month and early this one. But also grieving the loss of extended family members and friends, remembering the first anniversaries of some other passings, and preparing for All Saints Day very soon.

We will have a long list of names to share on that day, as we sit in the sanctuary and stand out in the columbarium, and it will be hard, and holy, and beautiful.

I forget that this, too, is part of the dream of our life together. That we get to stand with one another at the side of the grave, and pronounce that death does not get the last word. That we get to cherish words of resurrection, not as empty promises but as firm hope.

That we get to do this together, after so many months when we couldn’t do it at all, or when memorial services were held in empty sanctuaries with livestreams, or attendance was sparing and counted in the single digits. When we could only call or text or stand outside in summer heat or winter cold to share our condolences.

Now, we get to stand with one another. We get to share hugs again, and sing hymns aloud, and raise our voices in the affirmation of faith that says, “neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

We get to celebrate lives well-lived to the glory of God, while also mourning their loss and admitting when those lives felt cut short or we can’t make sense of their ending.

But we get to do it together. And this, too, as my friend said so wisely, is part of the dream.

So in these coming weeks, as we will gather together several more times to remember dear friends and give witness to the resurrection, let us also remember: that this, too, is a gift. This hope. These friends.

And God is with us in all the pain, and hope, and holiness of it.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

-Pastor Jen

A Prescription for Anxiety and Despair

(Our guest blogger today is Royce Eckhardt. This article first appeared in the Covenant Companion in February of 2021. We pray for Royce’s continued healing from a virus and recent hospitalization)

As the Covid-19 pandemic has rolled over us all like a thick, global cloud, I feel its dark shadows over our daily lives in countless ways. We are weary of masks and social restrictions, and missing the fellowship and communal worship of the church. Loved ones, stricken and hospitalized with the virus, are deprived of family visits. Our festive celebrations are robbed of joy when we are isolated.

With no end in sight, we are awash with anxiety and uncertainty. How can we sing the Lord’s song in this strange land?

Certainly, we turn first to Scripture to bolster our trust in the Eternal One, to find comfort and encouragement, to rekindle hope in the midst of adversity. But there is another book, a companion to the Holy Book, rich in the promises of God, that offers me a beacon of hope.

The hymnal offers the witness of saints past and present who relied on God’s sustaining grace in troublesome times. Its words can bring comfort, calm, and reassurance in our seasons of distress.

A hymnal is a rather unique and remarkable book. It is the layperson’s book of theology. It is the voice of the church through the centuries. The great cloud of witnesses resides therein. It is an archive of the rich diversity of Christian witness over the ages. It is a wonderful collection of prayers. It speaks to us from the early centuries of our faith to the new expressions written yesterday—the timelessness of the song of faith.

I share here some capsules of hope and encouragement from The Covenant Hymnal: A Worshipbook (TCH), a prescription for a dose of courage and contentment. Take daily, as needed.

“HOW FIRM A FOUNDATION” (437, TCH)

Fear not, I am with you; 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 gracious omnipotent hand.

When through the deep waters I call you to go, the rivers of sorrow shall not overflow,

for I will be with you in trouble to bless, and sanctify to you your deepest distress.

Words from Isaiah 43, spoken to a forlorn people in exile, are transformed into a song of hope for people now exiled by a virus. These are words of deliverance and comfort: the Holy One will bring us through the time of trouble. Don’t be dismayed.

“WHY SHOULD I BE ANXIOUS?” (431, TCH)

Early Covenant songwriter Nils Frykman asked:

Why should I be anxious? I have such a Friend, who bears in his heart all my woe;

this Friend is the Savior, on him I depend, his love is eternal, I know.

Frykman knew about trouble and discouragement. He wrote that on his way to a preaching commitment, “I became so overwhelmed by despair that I threw myself to the ground and cried like a . . . child. Yet I knew through it all I was a child of God, saved by grace. After I wept out my burden, I resumed my journey with a light heart and light steps.” Thus, this song was born.

“IT IS WELL WITH MY SOUL” (451, TCH)

Many readers are acquainted with the story surrounding this hymn. Chicago attorney Horatio Spafford, planning a family vacation in France, sent his wife and four daughters ahead while he was detained by business. He hoped to rejoin them a few days later. While crossing the Atlantic, their ship, the Ville du Harve, collided with another vessel and sank within 15 minutes. Among the hundreds of lives lost were Spafford’s four daughters. Mrs. Spafford survived and, upon reaching land after rescue, telegraphed, “Saved alone.” Spafford immediately set off to join her. A year later, he retraced the ill-fated journey across the ocean. Upon reaching the site of the tragic accident, he was inspired to write:

When peace, like a river, attends my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll;

whatever my lot, you have taught me to say, “It is well, it is well with my soul.”

What unshakable faith and trust in God! These words have brought comfort and hope to many who suffer affliction and despair.

“DAY BY DAY AND WITH EACH PASSING MOMENT” (435, TCH)

This hymn, dear to the hearts of many Covenanters, has found its way into a number of American hymnals, for Lina Sandell’s text speaks comfort and assurance across denominational lines. It first appeared in 1886 along with an allegory about a wall clock whose pendulum suddenly stopped working. When the dial investigated the cause, the pendulum proclaimed it was weary of swinging 86,400 times each day. Said the dial, “Try swinging only six times.” The pendulum agreed and admitted that it was easy. “But,” it complained, “it’s not just the six times but the thought of 60 million times that disturbs me.” The wise dial replied, “While you think of millions of swings, only one at a time will be required of you.” God gives us grace and strength for each day. We do not lay future concerns on the present moment. Read these familiar words with fresh understanding:

Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here;

trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment, I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.

He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what he deems best—

lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest.

“NOW, ANXIOUS HEART, AWAKE FROM YOUR SADNESS” (472, TCH)

The apostle Paul wrote, “Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God” (Philippians 4:6). Yet still we worry. An old Sunday school chorus said, “Why worry when you can pray?” Perhaps for some of us it’s, “Why pray when you can worry?” This hymn by Carl Olaf Rosenius, famed Swedish preacher and author, reminds us through some searching questions to look beyond our troubles to see that which is eternal:

Now, anxious heart, awake from your sadness, have you forgotten the things that remain:

grace and communion, unbroken union with Christ arisen and ever the same?

Is God not still your heavenly Father, has Jesus changed since he suffered and died?

Is not the Spirit, pleading and leading, ever the counselor, helper, and guide?

Are not the saints a trifle confusing, they speak of joy but great trials endure,

kingdoms possessing, pleading a blessing, safe in God’s keeping but never secure?

So, anxious heart, awake from your sadness, rise to remember your blessings to claim.

Though skies be clouded and the sun shrouded, never forget it is there just the same.

“BE STILL” (88, TCH)

“In quietness and in trust shall be your strength,” proclaims Isaiah (30:15). Covenant pastor/songwriter Rick Carlson’s song so beautifully expresses this both in mood and message:

When life is scatter’d I’m not far away. When life is heavy I’ll carry you.

When life is treacherous along the way, I will deliver you.

Be still and know I am with you, still, for I will sustain you

throughout your life I will always be near. Be still and know I am God.

This small sampling of hymns in The Covenant Hymnal speaks peace and calm to us in anxious times. The hymns can give us the power of the right word at the right time. While we wait for vaccines to combat Covid-19, a balm for our anxious hearts awaits in the hymnal. Read these hymns. Pray them. Sing them!

Royce Eckhardt