I started taking piano lessons when I was about seven years old.  It was not “formal” training in a studio, but just a few lessons from a friend of my mother’s to see if I was interested.  I still remember the first lesson, the first book I had, and the first tune in it.  “C-D-E made a boat; round and round the pond he’d float.”
 
           A few months later this friend told my parents I needed a “real” teacher.  Frankly, I think she was just fine as a teacher.  I learned the keys, the notes, and how to count in a few short weeks, but she insisted so off we went. 

            My next teacher had recitals.  I still remember that first recital too, and I can still play my first recital piece:  “Arab Horsemen” by Hazel Cobb.  Those horsemen were a long way from the guy named “CDE” and his boat.  Instead of one hand playing three notes, I had both hands running over six octaves on the piano, and a whole page played with my arms crossed!

            As I sat in the student row waiting my turn to play I saw other students wringing their hands or wiping sweat off their palms onto their skirts or pants.  What was the problem, I wondered?  It never dawned on me that they were nervous about playing in front of people.  I wasn’t nervous.  I knew my piece and could play it flawlessly.  What was the big deal?

            A few years later we had moved and the new teacher entered me in a talent competition in the County Fair.  Once again I was mystified by the nervous entrants around me.  I had a great piece and knew it inside and out.  I had spent three hours one particular day analyzing every note, every nuance of phrase, and every dynamic marking.  I got up and played it, and won a blue ribbon. 

            The next year I entered another competition.  This time the piece was more difficult.  It was written only a year or two before by Aaron Copland, a contemporary American composer.  It did not make much sense to my classically oriented ear.  Going from this note to the next seemed totally at random to me and I had a difficult time memorizing it.  But the rules for that category said I had to play it.  

            For the first time in my life I was not comfortable waiting my turn.  Then when I got up to play, it happened--I went totally blank.  I could not even start the piece.  The judges were kind.  They let me look at the first line.  Then I walked back to the piano and my daily practice automatically kicked in.  I played it perfectly, and aced the Beethoven rondo that followed.  In fact, Beethoven felt like an old friend at that point.

            Ever since that day I have experienced what everyone else does—performance anxiety.  I played a solo professional recital once and was sick to my stomach about five minutes before I walked on.  That one time when I forgot what to play has never left me.  From then on I knew I was as mortal as anyone and I always wondered when it would happen again.  Actually it did happen once in the middle of my senior recital, a requirement for a degree in music education.  I was playing a sonata and made up about four bars on the second page of the first movement before Haydn’s music found its way back into my hands.  Good thing you get points for covering up a slip when you perform.  I still got my A.

            Can you imagine how those apostles felt when Jesus, the one they had always counted on to have the right answer at the right time suddenly left them?  He knew what would happen and gave them this promise:  And when they bring you to trial and deliver you up, be not anxious beforehand what you are to say but say whatever is given you to say, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit, Mark 13:11.  Can you imagine a more comforting promise?  I suppose that is why I have always had difficulties with those who claim that Paul misspoke in Acts 23:3, and that he had to apologize.  Don’t they believe that God kept His promise to these brave men?  Try reading what Paul said with the same tone Elijah must surely have had when he spoke to the prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18.  It wouldn’t be the first time that God used sarcasm through the voice of a man.  Either that or He broke His promise to Paul; you can’t have it both ways.

            Wouldn’t it be great to have that promise today?  But wait a minute--in a way we do.  Those men did not have the written word.  Paul himself promised that one day the gifts that allowed one to prophesy a part and another to prophesy another part would be done away because the entire revelation would be “perfect,” complete in all details (1 Cor 13:8-12.  That is what we have—the whole shebang.

            So why do we experience performance anxiety when someone asks a question, or when it comes time to speak up in the face of false teaching?  Is it because we are just a little anxious about choosing exactly the right way to say it, or is it because we didn’t prepare ourselves with daily practice, analyzing and memorizing?  One is understandable, the other is inexcusable.  We may not have all the answers on the tips of our tongues as they did, but we have the source of those answers if we will just take the time to look.  “I don’t know, but I can find out,” may be a better testimony than acting like we do know it all.  It tells our friends, if an ordinary guy like him can find it, so can I.

            Those 13 men never knew when they would be called upon to speak up for God.  We don’t either.  Start practicing what to say; start considering all the possibilities. God has given you what you need, but it’s up to you to make use of it.
 
I will hope continually and praise you yet more and more.  My mouth will tell of your righteous acts, of your deeds of salvation all the day for their number is past my knowledge.  With the mighty deeds of the Lord God I will come; I will remind them of your righteousness, yours alone.  Psalm 71:14-16.
 
Dene Ward
           
 

When I was a child, my piano teacher was a member of an organization, the benefits of which allowed her students to participate in several events, competitions, and joint recitals.  Fast forward twenty years and, as a piano and voice teacher myself, I rediscovered that organization and joined for the sake of my own students—and they ate it up.
 
           The stated purpose of the organization is “furthering music education and fostering a musical environment in our communities through the sponsorship of musical events and by providing performing opportunities for our talented and deserving young people.”  In other words, it is a service organization in the area of music.  It’s all about the cultural welfare of the community and the patronage of young artists.

            But as wonderful as that sounds, not every member “got it.”  As I became more and more involved at higher (district) and higher (state) levels, politics and self-aggrandizement reared their ugly heads.  Let me give you an example. 

            In their goal to spread music in the communities, local groups were encouraged to present programs open to the public in several areas, opera, dance, American composers, women composers among them.  And as motivation a plaque was awarded to the group who had done the best in each category based upon written reports sent to State Chairmen, complete with printed programs, photographs, and news items.

            One year I was one of those chairmen.  I received a dozen reports of outstanding programs all across the state in the opera category.  Truly every group deserved recognition for their efforts.  In fact, I could have easily made a case for the smallest group, and a rural one at that, because for their lack of resources both monetary and talent, their creativity in making opera palatable to a less cultured area of the state had been astounding.  But of course, it was not quite up to the big city group who had staged a full opera nor the other urban organization who had managed to coax nationally acclaimed Met stars to appear.

            At the weekend of the awards I could not make the trip five hours south.  My husband had been shot in the line of duty and besides caring for him, I was also fending off the media and arranging appointments with doctors and lawyers and counselors.  So I sent my choice of winner and a letter of explanation for my absence.

            At nearly ten o’clock that evening I received a phone call from a member of one of the big city groups.  At first I thought, “How sweet.  Yes, it’s late, but she has just heard about our ordeal and is calling to check on us.”  But no, that was the last thing on her mind, if it was at all.  These were the first words out of her mouth:

            “I called to ask why we didn’t win the plaque this year.”

            Clearly this woman did not share the same goals as this organization.  To her it was about acclaim, about winning prizes, about being number one among her brothers and sisters.  And just as clearly, other people’s problems, no matter how dire, did not matter to her one bit.

            I hope that little story makes you shake your head in disgust, and after you have done that, ask yourself these questions:

            Why am I a Christian?

            Do I serve others?

            Do I do things for the church I assemble with, serving in whatever
capacity is needed?

            And more to the point:

Have I ever been miffed because MY name wasn’t mentioned?

            Have I ever stopped speaking to someone who did not thank me as I thought I deserved?

            Have I ever stopped visiting or calling or helping someone who didn’t return the favor?

            Maybe we all need to remember the example the Lord set, not just that one night in the upper room washing even Judas’s feet, or even those hours on the cross, but every morning he opened his eyes on this earth among people who hated him, ridiculed him, assaulted him, tried to kill him, and eventually did.  And we need to remember why he did it.  It certainly wasn’t for a plaque!

            This organization he set up, the one he called “mine” (Matt 16:18) has a purpose that has nothing to do with my glory.  It is the greatest purpose of any group anywhere—the salvation of mankind, no matter what it takes from me in terms of service or sacrifice. 

            Yes, if we are faithful we will receive a prize.  But if the prize is the only reason we are doing it, then the prize is the very thing we will not receive.
 
So I endure all things for the sake of those chosen by God, that they too may obtain salvation in Christ Jesus and its eternal glory. 2Tim 2:10
 
Dene Ward

​            Once I heard a misguided soul talking about the old hymns with more than a little scorn.  He said something on the order of this: “We need to get rid of these old things and their old-fashioned language.  Who in the world even knows what an Ebenezer is anyway?”
            Of course he was referring to the old standard with the line, “Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I’ve come.”  Now he has a point.  How many of us sing that line, violating the injunction to “sing with the understanding,” found in 1 Cor 14?  The solution though, is not to get rid of the song, but to educate our understanding.  The song is straight out of the scriptures, yet because I don’t know what it means am I to cut that word out of my Bible?  No, I am to study the word of God and learn what it means.
            The Israelites had been worshipping idols again, and the Philistines conquered them.  Finally, after twenty years, Samuel brought them to repentance, and God helped them fight and win against those perennial foes.  To memorialize the victory, Samuel raised a stone and called it Eben-ezer, the stone of help.  With God’s help they had conquered their enemies.  Isn’t that how we conquer ours?  Isn’t it with God’s help that we can defeat the devil and overcome sin?  We should raise an Ebenezer in our lives to remind us of the help God gives us every day of our lives.  Now go sing that song with understanding, don’t just get rid of it.
            Yet, while I knew the Ebenezer story, that whole incident reminded me that I often sing other songs and think, “What does that mean?  I need to look it up,” and then I go away and forget to do just that. 
            Do you sing the song with the line, “Lord Sabaoth his name, from age to age the same?”  All my childhood I thought people just didn’t know how to spell Sabbath correctly.  But finally one day several years ago, after singing that line over and over and meaning to go look it up, I finally remembered and did. 
            “Sabaoth” means “armies” or “hosts.”  Whenever we say “Lord of hosts” we are simply translating Lord Sabaoth to English.  In fact, many newer translations do exactly that.  But to me there is something more awesome and reverential about the ancient word “Sabaoth” than the simple word “armies” or “hosts.”  Maybe it is because those words are often used to refer to a nation’s army, while the other always and only refers to God’s army--and what an army it is!  That word reminds me that He is the one who is supreme over all the innumerable hosts of spiritual armies, armies we could not fight against no matter the number of our soldiers or the strength of our weapons.  Isn’t the commander of that army far more powerful than anything we can imagine?
            And doesn’t that make you feel far more secure as His child?  Doesn’t His promise of help (Ebenezer) and vengeance on our behalf with his spiritual army (Sabaoth) seem more certain, and more powerful?  And don’t you want to make sure that you are not on the receiving end of that vengeance?  James promised that when those who have been defrauded cry to God, that Lord of Sabaoth will hear.  I would shiver in my boots if I were the one doing the defrauding but shout from reassurance if I knew that army would be fighting on my behalf.
            So the next time you sing a song you don’t really understand, don’t just throw away the song.  Look it up.  Study a little.  (You’re supposed to be doing that anyway!)  Maybe you will find strength in the discoveries you make about the powerful God you serve, and that strength will help you live a better life today.
 
Who is the king of glory?  The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle.  Lift up your heads, oh gates, even lift up everlasting doors, and the king of glory shall come in.  Who is the king of glory?  The LORD of hosts [Lord Sabaoth], he is the king of glory.  Selah.  Psalm 24:8-10.
 
Dene Ward

More than once I have been outside weeding and accidentally pulled up a fistful of thorns.  Usually it’s a blackberry vine, though stinging nettles are not far behind on the list.  Either one makes for pain and blood loss for at least a little while and I try hard to look a little closer before the next pull.
 
           Not too long ago I saw a picture of a plant called “Crown of Thorns.”  It’s an import to our country, a type of cactus, but one that is notoriously picky about its surroundings.  You can only grow it in Zone 10 or higher, but once you get it going, it’s nearly impossible to kill.  It is heat and drought tolerant.  Long after other houseplants would have died from neglect, it will even bloom.

            The photos I saw made me think of the crown of thorns we are familiar with as Christians, the one the soldiers wove and placed upon Jesus’ head.  I doubt it was the same plant, but it looked as I imagined that one would, a thick stem covered with long sharp spines.  I cannot even imagine trying to weave the thing without leaving yourself a bloody mess.
 
           We sing a song with these lyrics by William Featherston:

1. My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
   For Thee all the follies of sin I resign;
   My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
2. I love Thee because Thou hast first loved me,
   And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree;
   I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow;
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
3. I’ll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,
   And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;
   And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow,
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
   
4. In mansions of glory and endless delight,
   I’ll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright;
   I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow,
   If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.
   

I missed it all my life until Keith pointed out the thirds lines of verses 2 and 4.  “I love thee for wearing the thorns on thy brow,” and, “I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow.”  Jesus wore a crown of thorns so I could wear a crown of glory.  If it was anything like those plants I saw, it was a bigger sacrifice than one might ever have thought, but the symbolism is profound because everything he went through that horrible night was for me.  And you.  Even that prickly crown.

Now, as his disciples, what sort of crown am I willing to wear for others?  Can I, as the Corinthians were chided to do, give up my liberties?  Can I concede a point even if I know I am right because in the grand scheme of things it doesn’t matter?  Can I stop an argument instead of continuing one?  Can I let someone else have the last word?

Can I give up my time and convenience for the sake of someone who needs an encouraging word?  Can I skip a meal to visit the lonely?  Can I miss a ball game to hold a Bible study?

Can I stay up a little later to pray a little longer?  Can I turn off the TV to spend some time in the Word?  Can I make teaching my children about God a priority instead of something we just try to fit in when we can?

None of those things will cause the kind of bloodletting those thorns did, but if I cannot even do those paltry things, how can I even hope to wear that “glittering crown on my brow?”  If that makes me uncomfortable and ashamed, good.  That’s why we sing those songs.  They are to teach and admonish, not produce feel-good pep rallies.

When I am weeding in the garden, I do my best to avoid the thorns.  Maybe in life, I should be out there looking for a few to wear.
 
And the soldiers twisted together a crown of thorns and put it on his head and arrayed him in a purple robe, John 19:2

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing, 2Tim 4:7-8.
 
Dene Ward

I make a shopping list every week.  When you live thirty miles from town and the price of gas has risen so high, you learn to plan.  Running up to the store for a forgotten item is not in the works.
             I know what I am going to cook each night that week, what I need for each dish, what is missing from the staples in the pantry, and what is on sale where before I leave the house.  Keith and I also spend a few minutes the evening before trying to think of every other piece of business I can take care of in the same trip.  Used to be I had to make as many stops as the grocery store, the pharmacy, the dry cleaners, the bank, the discount store, the music store, and the office supply store, then fit the women’s Bible study in there somewhere, making certain I accomplished everything in time to be home, unloaded, dinner either in the oven or the crockpot or everything set out for a quick fix meal, and then the studio set up and ready for music students by 2:30 for four hours of instruction.
            I learned to use one of the reply envelopes supplied by all the credit card companies who want us to go into debt up to our ears.  I kept a stack in my kitchen drawer and each week listed all my stops, numbered for time and gas efficiency, and what I needed to do or pick up at each stop on the outside of the envelope.  Inside I put coupons and claim tickets.  When I came home those had been replaced with receipts and new claim tickets, depending upon what was happening that week.  I seldom forgot anything thanks to my “system.”
            The other day as I was talking to God, I realized that I had strayed into my shopping list format.  Very matter-of-factly I was telling Him what I needed when and how I would like it served.  I reminded myself of Captain Picard standing in front of the replicator in his ready room barking out, “Tea—Earl Gray—hot!”  Suddenly I remembered to Whom I was talking and shivered a little.  What in the world was I thinking? 
            God is not a grocery store.  He is not a waiter at the restaurant waiting for me to make my order, giving Him extra directions so it will be exactly what I want—pastrami on rye, pressed, extra mustard, hold the mayo, slaw on the side.  Yet isn’t that exactly how we treat Him sometimes?  Yes, I can tell Him all my desires; in fact, He expects me to do that, and He wants to satisfy me, His child.  But when I start expecting Him to parcel it out in only the way I want it, as if I can send it back with a reprimand if it doesn’t suit me, I have overstepped the bounds.
            We have all seen children make their lists for birthdays and for Christmas, but don’t we all think better of the children who have learned that wanting something doesn’t mean they ought to have it, that wanting for others is even better than wanting for themselves, and that they should be grateful for whatever they receive, not complain about it. 
            My parents taught me to never greet a guest, especially a grandparent or favorite aunt or uncle with, “What did you bring me?” 
            “They might think that is the only reason you want to see them, and that would hurt their feelings,” it was explained to me.  I think I need to relearn that lesson about God. 
 
And at the evening oblation I arose up from my humiliation, even with my garment and my robe rent; and I fell upon my knees and spread out my hands unto Jehovah my God, and I said, Oh my God, I am ashamed and blush to lift up my face to you my God; for our iniquities are increased over our head, and our guiltiness is grown up unto the heavens, Ezra 9:5,6.
 
Dene Ward

We were singing this song a few weeks ago when I noticed yet another word I have been singing all my life without understanding.  So I spent some time looking it up and in the process discovered something else too.  This song is another one of those gems that alludes to a scripture in nearly every phrase.  Grab your Bibles—a King James if you can since that is what these older songs are based upon—and follow along below.

Soldiers of Christ, arise, (2 Tim 2:3)
And put your armor on, (Eph 6:11)
Strong in the strength which God supplies, (1 Pet 4:11)
Through His Beloved Son; (Matt 3:17; 17:5)
 
Strong in the Lord of Hosts, (over 250 verses)
And in His mighty pow'r, (Eph 3:20)
Who in the strength of Jesus trusts (Isa 12:2)
Is more than conqueror.  (Rom 8:37)
 
Stand then in His great might, (Eph 6:10)
With all His strength endued;  (Luke 24:49)
And take, to arm you for the fight,  (2 Cor 10:2-4)
The panoply of God.
 
That, having all things done,
And all your conflicts past, (Eph 6:13)
You may o'ercome through Christ alone,
And stand complete at last.  (Eph 4:11-16)
 
            Here is the first thing I learned from this exercise:  I know Eph 6 so well I tend to skip over it whenever it’s referenced.  Don’t do that!  I never realized half those other phrases were in those verses.  Don’t ever think a scripture is too familiar to be worth looking at again.
           
And here is the thing that had me looking in the first place:  what in the world is a “panoply”?  Webster tells me it is 1) a full suit of armor; 2) something forming a protective coating; 3) a magnificent or impressive array.  God gives us such a complete suit of armor, such a strong protective coating, and such an impressive array of weapons that there is absolutely no excuse for failing to overcome.  If we fail to use the resources at hand, we have let Satan win.  Look at Ephesians 6 again.  With this armor we can “stand against the wiles of the devil,” (v 11); we can “withstand in the evil day” (v 13); we can “quench all the fiery darts of the evil one” (v 16)—all of them, not just some.

Notice verse 13 one more time.  Wherefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and, having done all, to stand.  If we do not overcome, then we did not “do all;” we did not take full advantage of the panoply.  We left something out, or something off, or something undone.  God has given us everything we need, and our own negligence is no excuse.  We did not behave like a faithful “Soldier of Christ.”
 
For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ, being ready to punish every disobedience, when your obedience is complete.  2Cor 10:3-6
 
Dene Ward

All of my piano students had assignment books.  For one thing, I could not remember twenty assignments a week, especially not after thirty years of making them.  For another, this was their practice record and what they had or had not accomplished showed me how to help them.
          
           I believe in goal-oriented practice.  At the beginning, for very young students, the goal was simply to repeat an exercise or practice a piece a certain number of times.  The pieces were so short that playing them through that number of times accomplished its purpose—becoming familiar with the keyboard and training the fingers to automatically hit a certain key when the eye saw the note.

            The student then progressed to an assignment book charting the number of minutes they practiced.  If I asked for 150 minutes in the week, they could divide it however they wished as long as it added up to at least 150 minutes.  By this time the exercises were more difficult, the scales more complicated, and the pieces longer, so I usually included detailed instructions on how to use those minutes best to accomplish the goal.  That is also how I came up with a minute total.  If they showed me they could accomplish the same goals in less time, I either upped the goals or lowered the minutes depending upon their age, ability, and interest.

            The final level of assignment book was reached by only a few.  The pieces were usually several pages long and took months to learn.  They were classics requiring far more than simple note-reading and counting.  At this level I was teaching talented students to become artists and performers—pianists, not just piano players.  It was up to them to pull the pieces apart, working on things like phrase shaping, dynamic nuance, and variations in touch.  They chose one such item to work on in a manageable section of the music—say, the exposition section of a sonata instead of the whole ten pages—and when they had accomplished that goal, they were finished with that piece for the day.  On its own, practice time had increased from the 15 minutes or so a day for a beginner to something closer to two hours a day.

            One day a young lady came in so full of herself I knew something was up.  Instead of making me dig through her satchel for the assignment book, she fished it out herself, flipping through to find the correct page and handing it to me with a smug little smile. 

            I had assigned her 200 minutes of practice for the week, with these additional directions:  learn all the black key major scales, hands together, two octaves; memorize the last page of the competition solo she had been working on for two months; and start the rondo movement of her new concerto by playing through the A section everywhere it appeared, in every variation, slowly enough to keep the beat steady and the notes correct.

            I looked at the minute total at the bottom of the page—200 minutes, but I had my suspicions.  She had practiced, according to her record, forty minutes exactly on five different days.  This was the girl whose previous pages seldom showed more than three days of practice, all with odd numbers like 12, 17 or 21, and whose total had never come close to the assigned number.  Each forty minute entry was written in the same bright blue ink, with the same size numbers, and the same slant, as if she had filled them in at the same time one after the other.  The page was clean:  no smears, creases, smudges or erasures, as if this was the first time that page had seen the light of day since I wrote out the original assignment.

            I kept my suspicions to myself for the moment, smiled, and said, “Let’s play.”  That was where her plan fell apart.  Black key majors are the easiest scales to play.  She couldn’t get past the third note.  She could not play the concerto slowly enough NOT to make a mistake and she had exactly two measures of the solo memorized.  How she thought she could fool me into thinking she had practiced nearly 3 ½ hours that week was anyone’s guess.  After being with me for six years, I couldn’t believe she thought I was that dumb.

            And yet we think we can fool God into thinking we practice.  For every one that partakes of milk is without experience of the word of righteousness; for he is a babe. But solid food is for full-grown men, those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern good and evil, Heb 5:13,14. If that isn’t “practice,” I don’t know what it is.

            If I never improve--if I keep tripping over the same stumblingblock rather than learning to step around it; if I make the same foolish mistakes instead of wising up; if my knowledge remains shallow instead of deepening with understanding through the years; if my faith remains a superficial veneer instead of reaching my heart, how can I even pretend I have been practicing? 

            Goal oriented practice is self-rewarding when it is followed faithfully.  The student himself sees the results and is encouraged to practice more, to gain experience in whatever discipline he is applying himself.  Our practice should be goal-oriented too, and we have abundant motivation, both here and beyond.  But pretending to work at it will not achieve those goals any more than a silly thirteen year old could learn to play a piano concerto by lying about her practice time. 

            Some of us still think that counting how many times a week we assemble is all the practice we need.  But God expects us to get beyond the rote practice of following rules and live the life every minute of every day. He will know when we practice and when we don’t.  It will be obvious to Him, and maybe to everyone else too.
 
And the Lord said, Forasmuch as this people draw nigh with their mouth and with their lips to honor me, but have removed their heart far from me, and their fear of me is a commandment of men learned by rote; therefore, behold, I will proceed to do a marvelous work among this people, even a marvelous work and a wonder; and the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the understanding of their prudent men shall be hid, Isa 29:13,14.
 
Dene Ward

“A wall of fire about me, I’ve nothing now to fear.”

    If I were surrounded by fire, I would probably be scared to death.  Obviously this figure is meant in an entirely different way.
  
 And I will be to her a wall of fire all around, declares the LORD, and I will be the glory in her midst, Zech 2:5.

    Zechariah was a minor prophet who prophesied shortly after Haggai.  In fact, you can think of him as writing the sequel to that prophet’s book, Homer Hailey once said.  The Jews have returned from Babylon and are in the midst of rebuilding the Temple.  Zechariah’s job was not only to encourage them to finish the task, but to look ahead to the glorious coming of the promised kingdom.  But here they were, a small remnant (42,360, Neh 7:66, out of an estimated million in Babylon), with no armies, no weapons, and not even a wall around their old city.      

    In the vision Zechariah sees a young man trying to measure the city, as if it were a finite place.  In verse 4 God says Run, say to that young man, ‘Jerusalem shall be inhabited as villages without walls, because of the multitude of people and livestock in it.

    “My kingdom is not of this world,” Jesus told Pilate.  It would not be a physical, measurable location at all.  The Jerusalem God had in mind was one too big for walls.  It is open to multitudes of peoples.  And the only wall it needs is the protection of God Himself.

    The Hebrew writer calls the church “the heavenly Jerusalem.”  We are in that city and we do not need stone walls or mighty weapons of war.  We have “a wall of fire about” us in the person of the Almighty God.  That fire represents not just the protection, but also the glory of our Savior.  Even as we approach what could be a new era of persecution in our country, if we have faith in those promises, what have we to fear?

    Of all the old hymns we sing, I can’t think of another with as many scriptural references, over forty if you count them all.  Wouldn’t it be a shame to assign this one to the trash pile just because it doesn’t have modern rhythms or harmonies?  And isn’t it shameful to us if we can’t understand what these lyrics mean?  Jesus should be to us and to our descendants in ages to come “the fairest of ten thousand” to our souls, and God “a wall of fire about” us.

What is it then? I will pray with the spirit, and I will pray with the understanding also: I will sing with the spirit, and I will sing with the understanding also, 1 Cor 14:15.

Dene Ward

He’s the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morningstar,
He’s the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.

    Three phrases, three passages, two in the same book.  This will take some explanation.
    
The old view says that the Song of Solomon was an allegory of Christ and the church.  Fewer people accept that any longer, and though it may have sparked the original lyrics, I am not certain they were meant in precisely that way.  For one thing, the analogy doesn’t hold up.

    I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys, Song of Solomon 2:1.

    My beloved is white and ruddy, The chiefest among ten thousand, Song of
Solomon 5:10.

    In the first passage, the shepherdess is talking about herself.  In the second, the shepherdess is speaking about her beloved, the shepherd (or Solomon if you prefer that interpretation of the book).  Those passages are about two different people in the narrative, so how could the poet be following the old interpretation of Christ and the church in the hymn if the analogy does not hold up?      

    Here is the point we are so bad about seeing sometimes:  they are figures of speech.  The lyricist has borrowed various phrases out of the Bible to depict how wonderful Christ is to the believer.  Did you catch the Rose of Sharon reference too?  These are poetic metaphors.  Making literal arguments from figures of speech is something we ridicule our religious neighbors for doing.  Why do we?  Jesus is like a beautiful flower.  He is so fair (as in “Fairest Lord Jesus” too, by the way) we could say he is the fairest among ten thousand.  

    Does that mean number 10,001 is fairer than he is?  Of course not, not any more than the other phrase means he has a stem and petals.  None of these is meant to be taken literally whether you believe in the allegorical version of the Song of Solomon or not.  As it happens, I don’t.  I believe it is in there to show us how to order our romantic marital love.  If that isn’t what it’s about, then God left something awfully important out of the Bible and I don’t believe that for a minute.  He tells us too many times that it contains everything we could possibly need in any circumstance.  And if Paul can talk about the church being the “bride of Christ” why can’t I use these terms for my spiritual “husband?”

    Then we have the “Bright and Morningstar.”  What is that all about?  Balaam prophesied, “There shall come forth a star out of Jacob,” Num 24:17.  Peter tells us, “And we have the prophetic word more fully confirmed, to which you will do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts,” 2 Pet 1:19.  The Morningstar, or daystar, was a bright star that appeared just before dawn at certain times of the year, Venus I read in one place, which at other times of the year is the Evening Star.  Jesus is our Morningstar. He appeared before the coming of his kingdom, the “day” Joel speaks of in Joel 2.  He will appear again on the “day” he takes us to our promised rest.  When we accept him in our hearts, he “appears” to us individually (and figuratively) on that “day” as we enter his spiritual body.  Take your pick of interpretations and “days.”  Any of them satisfy the metaphor.

    That leaves us with just one more wonderful phrase to cover next time, a promise that should encourage us all.  But for now, dwell on these a little while.  Is Christ that important to you?  Is he that beautiful to you?  Would these figures of speech rise from your lips?  Or are we a little too ignorant of the Word and a lot too embarrassed to say such syrupy words about a Savior who gave up everything for us?

Dene Ward

I have found a friend in Jesus, He’s everything to me,
He’s the fairest of ten thousand to my soul;
The Lily of the Valley, in Him alone I see
All I need to cleanse and make me fully whole.
In sorrow He’s my comfort, in trouble He’s my stay;
He tells me every care on Him to roll.
o    
Refrain:

He’s the Lily of the Valley, the Bright and Morning Star,
He’s the fairest of ten thousand to my soul.
He all my grief has taken, and all my sorrows borne;
In temptation He’s my strong and mighty tow’r;
I have all for Him forsaken, and all my idols torn
From my heart and now He keeps me by His pow’r.
Though all the world forsake me, and Satan tempt me sore,
Through Jesus I shall safely reach the goal.

(Refrain)

He’ll never, never leave me, nor yet forsake me here,
While I live by faith and do His blessed will;
A wall of fire about me, I’ve nothing now to fear,
With His manna He my hungry soul shall fill.
Then sweeping up to glory to see His blessed face,
Where rivers of delight shall ever roll.

(Refrain)

    I bet you have sung that song all your life.  It’s one of those old ones that so many sneer at nowadays.  Yet this song does something very few of the new ones can. It contains a different scriptural reference in nearly every line.  Take a minute and look at the song.  Can you find them?  Here is the shame on us—in the days when this song was written, everyone who claimed to be a Christian, even some we would not classify as “New Testament Christians,” could find them all—they knew their scriptures that well--while we sit here at best thinking, “That sounds vaguely familiar.”

    Obviously I don’t have space to go over them all.  Let me do the obvious ones quickly, and then we will spend two more sessions on the rest.

    “I have found a friend in Jesus,” Matt 11:19.

    “All I need to cleanse and make me fully whole,” 1 John 1:7; Acts 9:34.

    “In sorrow he’s my comfort, in trouble he’s my stay;” you will find this sentiment all over the psalms and the prophets, too many to list.

    “He tells me every care on him to roll,” 1 Pet 5:7.

    “He all my griefs has taken and all my sorrows borne,” Isa 53:4.

    “He’s my strong and mighty tower,” Psa 61:3.

    “I have all for him forsaken and all my idols torn from my heart,” Ezek 36:25; Hos 14:3,4.

    “He keeps me by his power,” 1 Pet 1:5.

    “Through Jesus I shall safely reach the goal,” Phil 3:14.

    “He will never never leave me, nor yet forsake me here,” Heb 13:5.

    “While I live by faith” Hab 2:4; Rom 1:17; Gal 3:11; Heb 10:38.

    “Do his blessed will” Matt 7:21.

    “With his manna he my hungry soul shall fill,” nearly two dozen verses from Exodus 16 to John 6 along with Matt 5:6.

    “To see his blessed face,” Rev 22:4.

    Did you catch all those?  I defy you to find more than a few songs written after 1960 that have that many scriptural references in them, unless they repeat one Biblical phrase over and over, or are lifted whole cloth out of the scriptures.  It’s time we learned what those old songs were about before we go throwing them out just because we think them “old” and “archaic” and “boring.”  Maybe they wouldn’t be so difficult to understand if we knew God’s Word like we ought to.  

    And these phrases were just the easy ones, the ones you can probably figure out for yourself with no help.  In the next two days, the two remaining posts on this hymn will begin to get a little more difficult.  While you wait for those, though, spend a little time with the scriptures listed above and ask yourself, “Could I even begin to do the job this poet did?”  

Dene Ward