You Are the Seed

 

I've been going to a Methodist Church since my parents carried me through the doors of the small Byers church as an infant. (Click here to read about the closing service at the Byers UMC.)

 

By now, you'd think I'd have heard all the songs in the hymnal. But, just like most things, we gravitate toward the familiar. We sing the same songs, over and over. And there's some beauty in that. More than once, I've sung some of those songs in my head, a comfort in an uncomfortable setting, or a praise at an unexpected pleasure.

Of course, you can take a good thing too far. If you know me, you know I'm not a big fan of "How Great Thou Art." Yes, I know it's a favorite to many, and I've sung it for a whole lot of funerals. But, it seemed I heard nearly weekly renditions of the hymn as a child waiting for the preacher to arrive at his second pulpit in a three-point charge. "How Great Thou Art" ranks up there as a "too much of a good thing" for me. 

When we were at Jill and Eric's church in Topeka a few weeks ago, one of the hymns was a new one to me. At Susanna Wesley UMC, they aren't singing aloud these days. If you're worshiping in person, you have to listen to a soloist sing the words. (It's another thing to hate about Covid-19. No offense to the soloist. I just like singing in church and now that I'm the pianist at my home church, I find fewer and fewer opportunities to sing hymns with others.) But I liked the song well enough that I sent a message to myself to look it up when I got home. It's found on Page 583, if you happen to have a UMC Hymnal sitting around.

 

We're on Month No. 7+ of a pandemic. We're a week away from a contentious election. These words seem to be good advice. And they also seemed to go with several photos I've accumulated in the past week or so -- plus a few from the archives.

First snowfall of this fall/winter, October 26, 2020, wheat field

 

You Are the Seed

UMC Hymnal, No. 583 - By Cesareo Gabarain

Translated from Spanish

You are the seed that will grow a new sprout

You're a star that will shine in the night. 

 

 You are the yeast and a small grain of salt,

A beacon to glow in the dark.

 Go, my friends, go to the world,

Proclaiming love to all

 

Stained glass at chapel at Youthville, Newton, KS

 

  Messengers of my forgiving peace, eternal love.

 You are the dawn that will bring a new day; 

 

You're the wheat that will bear golden grain.

You are a sting and a soft, gentle touch.

My witnesses where e'er you go.

 Be, my friends, a loyal witness

From the dead I arose.

"Lo, I'll be with you forever,

till the end of the world."

 

You are the flame that will lighten the dark,

sending sparkles of hope, faith and love.

Rattlesnake Pasture - October 26, 2020

 

You are the shepherds to lead the whole world

 through valleys and pastures of peace.

 

You are the friends that I chose for myself

the word that I want to proclaim.

You are the new kingdom built on a rock

where justice and truth always reign.

 You are the life that will nurture the plant;

you're the waves in a turbulent sea;

 

Yesterday's yeast is beginning to rise,

A new loaf of bread it will yield.

There is no place for a city to hide,

nor a mountain can cover its might.

May your good deeds show a world in despair

A path that will lead all to God. 

 

 

I found this version on YouTube. (Sorry if any unsuitable ads come up as you're trying to play it. It seems to happen since I don't pay for a subscription.)

 

 

Raise My Ebenezer

 

 Here I raise my Ebenezer;

Here by Thy great help I’ve come;

And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,

Safely to arrive at home.

From the hymn, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

I’ve been singing hymns for a long, long time. I've had my share of misunderstandings of lyrics. As young girls sitting by our Grandpa Shelby in the pews of Byers United Methodist Church, my sisters and I were convinced we were singing the Gloria Patri directly to him, "...As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be." 

"Shall be" sounds like "Shelby" to little ears, don't you think?

It’s hard to calculate how many times I've sung, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing. It would be dozens. But until a few weeks ago, I’d never given any thought to the line that says, “Here I raise my Ebenezer.”

Pastor Ben said he’s made it a mission to define that phrase at every church he serves. Literally, an Ebenezer is a stone of help. It’s a reminder of God’s real, Holy Presence and Divine aid. 

In 1 Samuel 7, we read that the Israelites were under attack by the Philistines. Outnumbered and in fear for their lives, they plead with the prophet Samuel to pray for God’s help. Samuel offered a sacrifice and prayed for protection.

 “Then Samuel took a stone, and set it between Mizpeh and Shen, and called the name of it Ebenezer, saying, Hitherto hath the Lord helped us.”

In Hebrew the word ebenezer means “stone of help.” This raised stone was a reminder to the Israelites of what the Lord had done for them. The Ebenezer stone represented a fresh beginning, a reversal of course for God’s people. It also said something important about God: His mercies are everlasting; His covenant is forever.

It doesn't have anything to do with my worthiness. It has everything to do with God's grace. 

When Pastor Ben explained the meaning behind the lyrics, I thought of a photo I'd taken when we visited Idaho several years ago. During a morning walk by a river, we saw a pile of stones balanced on a bigger rock along the water's edge.

 

I was struck by its beauty, since its shape mimicked a pine tree across the river on the other bank.

As we enter Holy Week this week, how can I raise my Ebenezer? Spiritually speaking, an Ebenezer can be anything that reminds me of God's presence and help:

A remember can be found in a beautiful sunrise to begin the day ...

... in reading the Bible before the sun comes up ...

in the communion elements ...

 in a cross

 in springtime flowers emerging from bulbs

in yellow forsythia blooming against blue sky

in music

in helping hands

in prayer

in love shown in a myriad of ways

 in a sunset when day is done.

Those things remind me of God's love, God's presence and God's help in my life. They can serve as touchstones during this Holy Week as I walk this path of remembering Jesus' great sacrifice for me.

Samuel recognized something that’s true about human nature: We’re forgetful. At Ebenezer, Israel could stand next to that big old rock and remind themselves, “Yes, we serve a living and faithful God, whose mercies are everlasting.”

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I’m constrained to be!
Let Thy goodness, like a fetter,
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Here I raise my Ebenezer …

I am a Chris Rice fan, so I found this version of "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

***

I am linked today to Michelle DeRusha's "Hear It On Sunday, Use It On Monday." Click on the link for other reflections from bloggers of faith. 

"Fishing" for Abundance

A drought of thankfulness can leave a soul as dry as the prairie grasses in our pastures. Like the curled, brown leaves on the drought-stricken milo stalks, ungratefulness leaves us brittle and used up, not much good for anything other than complaining.

When I was in high school, I was in a play. I honestly don't remember the name of it. What I do remember is a line I delivered:

"Oh woe is me! Oh lack-a-day!"

I certainly wasn't competing with Meryl Streep for an Academy Award, though I did fool my Grandpa Neelly who didn't know me behind the stage makeup and the gray hair.

Wouldn't it be great if another reason he didn't recognize me was because the "woe-is-me" attitude was so foreign to my nature?

We all face droughts. It may be a literal drought like we've experienced on the farm these past two summers. It may be a drought caused by worry, loss, death, heartache, a family situation, illness or another curveball from just living life. It's easy to get caught up in the lack instead of the abundance.

“The real voyage of discovery consists of not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”

Norman Vincent Peale

After we rode the 4-wheeler across the dry pastures, my ever-optimistic husband said, "Let's go fishing!" It's good to live with a glass-half-full kind of guy. It was a cooler day, one where the thermometer wasn't racing its way upwards past the 100-degree mark.

As I sat by the river with my feet up and the fishing pole dangled in the water, a few hymns drifted through my mind, like the clouds that floated across the sky giving a few moments of relief.

When I opened my church bulletin the next morning, the very first song was one that provided my afternoon mental soundtrack, All Things Bright and Beautiful.

All things bright and beautiful

All creatures great and small

All things wise and wonderful

The Lord God made them all.

 Each little flower that opens

Each little bird that sings

God made their glowing colors

And made their tiny wings

 The purple-headed mountains,

The river running by,

The sunset and the morning 

That brightens up the sky.

 The cold wind in the winter,

The pleasant summer sun,

The ripe fruits in the garden

God made them every one.

 God gave us eyes to see them,

And lips that we might tell.

How great is God Almighty

Who has made all things well.

 

Wishing you a day when you see the abundance and not the drought!

***

I'm linked today to Iowa farm wife and blogger Jennifer's God-Bumps and God-Incidences at Getting Down with Jesus.