” Anchored to the rock that cannot mo-o-ove
Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.”
This hymn was going around in my head even before I read Calvin Brown’s article in the July/August, 2010 Record (Dragging the Anchor, page 36). I was recalling how the commissioners sang it while I was leading music at one General Assembly, at that not-so-sweet hour of prayer when singing generally takes second fiddle to yawning. Yes: Morning worship.
The commissioners’ lusty singing of “anchored to the Rock that cannot move”—and, of course, holding the note on “mo-o-ve” as long as lungfully possible—was wonderful, it was unforgettable, and we all loved singing it together.
This is us, singing. This is our hymn.
But it carried a message beyond the words. And this message, as Rev. Brown pointed out, has shaped us in ways that go deeper than our theological statements. Even when we should move, we stay anchored.
I wonder…
What other hymns have shaped us as Presbyterians, both negatively and positively? I wonder, and invite you to disagree—or agree.
The Faithful Few
In the still-popular song “Dare to be a Daniel,” we sing, “honour them, the faithful few.” There’s something comforting about singing the praises of this plucky, stubborn, (tiny) band as we watch our once thriving and used-to-be-relevant church groups shrivel and die.
But I wonder…
What would happen to us if we let ourselves be shaped by Marty Haugen’s “Gather Us In,” in which he pictures a community of faith “not in the dark of buildings confining” nor looking to “some heaven light years away,” but celebrating the Here and Now of God’s reign. You’ll find this one in Gather—Comprehensive (GIA).
Bold New Decisions
This song about the Spirit blowing through the wilderness, goading God’s people. How did a piano/guitar folk song about a raw, driving gale ever get on the Presbyterian Hit List as a slow ballad for organ?
It is often chosen for committee meetings because of the line “with bold new decisions, your people arise.” How many times have you seen these “bold” decisions get delayed, reduced, reused, recycled and (decently and in order) rejected, just before God’s people arise and go for beer at the local pub? How we love singing (slowly) about bold new decisions.
But I wonder…
What would happen if we let ourselves be shaped by the Fred Kaan/Ron Klusmeier song, “Worship and Work Must be One”? Kaan writes that it is “our handiwork” that daily confesses that we are committed to serving humanity. Our Presbyterian worship asks us (politely) to take our work boots off. But what would happen if our worship—our bold decisions—were one with our work?
Decently and in Order
It was actually a Quaker who wrote, “Drop thy still dews of quietness…and let our ordered lives confess/the beauty of thy peace,” but Presbyterians have made the Apostle Paul’s injunction to the Corinthian Christians very much our own. We remain stubbornly loyal to the ideal of quiet, peaceful, tranquil worship, beginning with a gentle organ melody, and ending with … a gentle organ postlude, a worship service where God speaks to us in reverent tones and a still, small voice, and everyone goes their separate ways in quietness and peace…
But I wonder…
What will happen to us if we let ourselves be shaped by these words from Guillermo Cuellar’s Misa Popular Salvadoreña (my paraphrase):
“You accompany your people; you live within our struggles,
The Lord of earth and heaven, the living word of God.”
It is a fiesta song, a dance melody, full of Latin cross-rhythms, and sings of a God present in struggle and turmoil. It is meant to turn a communion service into a party, one to which I suspect Jesus, indecent and definitely out of order, would have brought a pack of publicans and sinners.
Coda
I know the value of decency and good order. I have seen the work of fanatics, up close and personal.
I’m a preacher’s kid. I grew up in Timmins, when it was still called “The Porcupine Camp.” Even in the fifties, it still had some of the air of a mining camp and it could be wild and woolly. My parents were, in many ways, pioneers. I grew up watching them work to manage self-styled “Christian leaders” and itinerant preachers who undertook ministries with no idea of what they were doing, who lit spiritual flames with no idea of how to prevent a forest fire.
But I have also seen us Presbyterians calmly, decently and in order, break off a bruised reed, or quench a smoldering flax, when what we most need is a healthy, growing plant or a campfire that will keep us warm.
In my next post, I will look at a few more psalms, hymns and spiritual songs that could perhaps shape us, along with some performance-practice suggestions. I’m thinking of putting them under the headings “Presbyterians Love to Say ‘No’” “Presbyterians Want Things Smaller” and “Just Say No to Naysayers”.
Bitter? Absolutely not.
Concerned? Better believe it.
