Joy, and Hymns

I'm in a college Christian a cappella group, but it took being away from a regular rehearsal schedule and immersion in music throughout the week to realize just how deep and undeniable is the impulse and desire within me--and, I'd say, within all of us--to sing the praises of the Lord.

Aside from my weekly dose of hymns at church here in Oxford, I've discovered a great group called Page CXVI. The first thing that got me interested in them was the story behind their name. Page 116 in C. S. Lewis's The Magician's Nephew contains the scene in which Aslan creates Narnia out of nothing with a song. Here's the pertinent excerpt:

In the darkness something was happening at last. A voice had begun to sing. It was very far away and Digory found it hard to decide from what direction is was coming. Sometimes it seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes he almost thought it was coming out of the earth beneath them. Its lower notes were deep enough to be the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. There was hardly even a tune. But it was, beyond comparison, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. It was so beautiful he could hardly bear it.

So, to my mind, the group already had the Narnia reference going for them. Yet then I began to listen to their two albums, called simply "Hymns I" and "Hymns II." Their stated goal, one they fulfill with great success, in my opinion, is the restoration to prominence of those good, sturdy hymns of old. They accomplish this by setting hymns to a modern beat. At first I wasn't sure I liked that modernity, but it's grown on me, and now, when I hear one of the hymns they've recorded sung in church, I default to singing it a la Page CXVI--which says something about the catchiness and attractiveness of their arrangements!

One of the songs they've recorded is "Joy"--it's not exactly a hymn, but who cares. It's chilling and, at first, a bit confusing. It's a song very obviously about rejoicing, and here it's laden, laced with grief and pain. I didn't quite know what to make of it until I read this (brilliant) explanation.

When I first wrote, or I should say re-wrote, “Joy” I had no idea the
 wave it would make.  I have received countless emails, questions, and
 comments on this one song, several with the similar theme of “she sure 
does not sound joyful to me!” I’ve even had people tell me that they 
did not finish the song but skipped it because it sounded too
 depressing and confused them in contrast to the rest of the Hymns 
record. If perchance you are someone that has not finished the song
 yet please listen through the end. It would be like starting a story 
and never finishing it. 



The first time I played Joy was the night my father passed away.  He 
had a short and painful battle with cancer.  My dad was not perfect
 but he did the best he could with what he had.  A year before he died
 he was diagnosed with dementia.  The day he told me he had cancer he 
said it was a blessing.  To him, cancer was a better way to end his
 story than a mind with no memory of his family or his life.  So as I 
sat at the piano, the only place that felt safe that night to me, the
 weight of loss hit my chest.  I remembered my eyes were blurred with 
tears and I literally began to play the now familiar progression of
 Joy.  I kept cycling through the progression and then, as if it had 
already been written, I began to sing a different melody to a song I 
sang in VBS as a child, “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my 
heart…” The truth is that I was terribly and profoundly sad.  The
 reality of grief had not even entirely hit me yet.  But at the same
 moment I had a deep sense of peace.  He was no longer in pain.  He was
 no longer sick.  He was free from all his ailments and restored.
 Although I still miss him, I know that God has weaved redemption 
through death into my father’s story.  That brings me great joy.  It
 was not until grief became a part of my story that I realized that joy
 is not simply an expression, but an attitude and acknowledgment of the 
deep peace of knowing a Savior.

 

I believe it is important as a community that wants to comfort the
 weary we allow space for those who are grieving, suffering, and
 experiencing loss to say, “Hey! I am hurting! I am in pain!”  It is
 okay to give them space to figure out what joy means in that time.  

I now know that you can experience grief and joy simultaneously…and if
 not, that joy can and will come if you allow it to. 

I had Joy written without the ending that is on the record for a
while.  And after I had some time to grieve I remembered the hymn “I t
is Well With My Soul.”  The author of that hymn lost multiple members 
of his immediate family when he wrote those deeply wise words.  It
 seemed appropriate to end “Joy” with this hymn in acknowledgement that
 God brings us peace.  He even brings us joy when it seems and feels
impossible.

Here's the song.

I heartily commend the rest of Page CXVI's music to you. They'll have you dwelling on the wise, comforting, challenging words of some of the greatest hymns ever penned. (If you want to preview some more of their songs first, you can listen to a few here.)

Also, if you're still in a musical mood, see the new music page I've created (under the "A Joyful Noise" tab at the top of the page). 

Radical Giving and the Cross

From B. B. Warfield, a passage that has convicted me more than any other recently:

"Now dear Christians, some of you pray night and day to be branches of the true Vine; you pray to be made all over in the image of Christ. If so, you must be like him in giving. . . 'though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor'. . .

"Objection 1. 'My money is my own.' Answer: Christ might have said, 'My blood is my own, my life is my own'. . . then where should we have been?

"Objection 2. 'The poor are undeserving.' Answer: Christ might have said, 'They are wicked rebels. . . shall I lay down my life for these? I will give to the good angels.' But no, he left the ninety-nine, and came after the lost. He gave his blood for the undeserving.

"Objection 3. 'The poor may abuse it.' Answer: Christ might have said the same; yea, with far greater truth. Christ knew that thousands would trample his blood under their feet; that most would despise it; that many would make it an excuse for sinning more; yet he gave his own blood.

"Oh, my dear Christians! If you would be like Christ, give much, give often, give freely, to the vile and poor, the thankless and the undeserving. Christ is glorious and happy and so will you be. It is not your money I want, but your happiness. Remember his own word, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive.'"

[From B. B. Warfield, The Person and Work of Christ (Phila.: Presbyterian & Reformed, 1950), 574.]

Be Still, My Soul; or, Learning to Delight in the Lord

"The place God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet."

—Frederick Buechner

A few nights ago, as I laid out my confusions, and my questions, and my frustrations about my future, a good friend reminded me to be waiting on the Lord, to be quiet and patient, to hear His voice. Psalm 27 (v. 14) puts it this way: "Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!"

What a great reminder! I don't consider myself a man of action per se, but restlessness and fear come easily to just about anyone. And especially in times of transition, as the gears start turning, the engine revs, the juices of exhilaration and acceleration surge and you wish God would let you take your foot off the brake.

But for some reason He doesn't. He doesn't give you that breakthrough, that connection, that understanding, that green light. You're stuck in a state of suspended animation. It's a reminder that the Lord we serve is sovereign and not blown about like a leaf by the shifting winds of our petty desires. Thanks be to God that His Kingdom is not a democracy! His work and His timing He has set out and decided. He hears my prayers and gives or holds back according to His will, His plans. As I reflect on the path my life has taken so far, I am so pleased in fact that it is He who holds the reins of time and space and place, and not me, whose judgment is so foolish and short-sighted and vain. The Lord works all things according to His great eternal vision, for His view of eternity is from his position beyond and outside of time. This is just one shade of His complete holiness and perfect sovereignty.

It's in this spirit that Jesus tells us (Matt. 6:34) that we shouldn't be anxious about tomorrow but we ought to instead let tomorrow worry about itself, for "sufficient for the day is its own trouble." And it's in the spirit of this truth laid out by Jesus that Paul later exhorts us (Phil. 4:6), "do not be anxious for anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God." I've read these passages many times before, but it's in the moment of anxiety and uncertainty and that gut-wrenching sensation of feeling lost without a map that I am able to understand the meaning of my smallness and God's greatness.

To be honest, I really have no concrete answer as to where I'm meant to go after college. Do I get some Gospel training before going out into the world? Do I go straight into graduate school? If I teach, who am I meant to teach? If I'm meant to proclaim, what and to whom am I meant to proclaim? If I'm meant to stay, where am I meant to stay, and if I'm meant to go, where am I meant to go? This could drive me absolutely bonkers, which it has at times over the past several months. I struggle to know what my calling is, what the Lord is calling me to use my life for, how it is He intends for me to spend my short time here on this planet. For answers I can only wait for God and pray "with thanksgiving" (and how often do I forget that part!) that He alone would be the lamp unto my feet as I stumble through this life a sinner, seeing through a glass darkly.

When I feel powerless I remember Moses as he encounters God at the burning bush. Half believing and half doubting, the erstwhile prince of Egypt asks who it is who speaks to him. Our Almighty God's booming response echoes in my heart even now: "I AM WHO I AM" (Ex. 3:14). Some Hebrew scholars point out that in fact what God says to Moses is more appropriately translated "I shall be that I shall be." The thrust of either translation is this, that the Most High God is beyond our tongue and our language, beyond our mind, beyond our grasp, in the time of Moses, in our time, and forevermore (Rom. 11:33-36). The Lord is mightier than we can comprehend Yet His power does not overwhelm us to the point of incineration because the justice of God, perfect and unyielding, has been satisfied at the Cross. It is Jesus's blood that allows us to stand in God's presence. The clemency through Christ that the Father has granted us—has granted me—is the most precious, most necessary, most radical key to living. "For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things."

In the meantime, as I learn to wait and be patient and listen for God to bring clarity to my muddled and darkened thoughts and prayers, the quote I included at the beginning is helping me get some grasp on the road ahead: "The place God calls you is the place where your deep gladness and the world’s deep hunger meet." Sometimes I forget what it means to be glad. I associate living with purpose with living begrudgingly. Maybe this is because up until very recently I assumed to be a living sacrifice meant resentfully and bitterly (that is, obligingly) taking up a cross and grunting and eking out life until death brought the comfort of rest. I still do believe the Bible calls us to labor for and in the Kingdom till the end of our lives, but my assumption that service to God is a necessarily unenjoyable enterprise has been dashed to pieces.

This must be a common enough assumption among believers that John Piper begins his massively popular and massively insightful and wise book Desiring God (download it for free) with a preface in which he explains how (at my age) he believed a life lived for God entailed biting the bullet and putting aside delight.  He writes,

When I was in college, I had a vague, pervasive notion that if I did something good because it would make me happy, I would ruin its goodness. I figured that the goodness of my moral action was lessened to the degree that I was motivated by a desire for my own pleasure.... [T]o be motivated by a desire for happiness or pleasure when I volunteered for Christian service or went to church—that seemed selfish, utilitarian, mercenary.

Yet he discovered that this is entirely un-Biblical, that in fact God calls us to find our greatest joy in Him, that in so doing God is most glorified in and through us. Learning through the examples of Blaise Pascal and C. S. Lewis, Piper fast realized the thing that would change his life and mission and ministry forever.

Praising God, the highest calling of humanity and our eternal vocation, did not involve the renunciation, but rather the consummation of the joy I so desired. My old effort to achieve worship with no self-interest in it proved to be a contradiction in terms. God is not worshiped where He is not treasured and enjoyed. Praise is not an alternative to joy, but the expression of joy. Not to enjoy God is to dishonor Him. To say to Him that something else satisfies you more is the opposite of worship. It is sacrilege. 

And so, as I consider what God is calling me to do, I am reminded that joy and delight in Christian service, or as a Christian working in the world, is not undesirable or un-Scriptural, but in fact called-for and the natural result and expression of the sufficiency of God in Christ.

A few nights ago, as I struggled to voice my concerns for the future, that same friend asked bluntly, "Well, what do you enjoy doing?" I couldn't stop smiling as I thought about my answer and told him that it's study and research and the grappling with the problems of thought and interpretation and history that bring me joy. He interrupted me: "Your smile and your joy are the answer to your questions. Don't you see?"

O Lord, may I see the way forward in the light of Your truth, in joy and thanksgiving, in submission, in meditation upon the irrepressible grace You extend through the blood of Christ to the pagans and sinners like me! Be my light and my understanding as I labor to reflect and glorify You as long as you give me breath!

An Update

Blog Update from Gregory Campeau on Vimeo.

It's two weeks--as the British would say, a fortnight--before my return to the lush land of milk, honey, and uncontrollable oil spills. Here's an update.