Posted on

the one where I re-purpose a perfect hymn

We sang “How Great Thou Art” in church today, the one hymn that has followed me from my more fundamentalist conservative church upbringing through the various congregations and para-church events I attended in college through the nine years I’ve been in Illinois. The chorus, “Then sings my soul…how great Thou art!”, gets me every time. It seems to find me when my soul is decidedly not necessarily in the mood to believe it (that God is great), let alone sing it. This song also reminds me, every time we sing it at church, why going to church per se is not for God’s benefit, but for our, for my, benefit. Sure, corporately worshiping God and learning about God glorifies Him, and that’s incredibly important. But the gathering of Christians in worship of God is a gift from God that truly benefits Christians.

Here’s a reason why: after a long week which often involves the seemingly-endless struggle of anxiety and depression, and conflict and fear of conflict, and strained and broken relationships, and a constant news-cycle shit-storm, my broken and tired soul needs to be fed the truth, spoken both by me and by others around me. I bring all this in with me when I go to church on Sundays, and so my heart is rarely in a place to believe how great God is when we begin to sing. But I read the words and sing it aloud anyway, while listening to those around me proclaiming the words as well, hoping for the grace to truly believe. Never underestimate the power of a beautiful song to affect the deepest places of your heart in such a way that nothing else can. More often than not, when my heart is in a state of unbelief yet longing to know God, grace prevails and the truth of the hymns or of the Bible do strengthen and refresh me, especially when there are 100 other people immediately around me also affirming these words.

I’m not a songwriter by any stretch of the imagination, but after singing “How Great Thou Art” today (originally a poem written by Carl Boberg in 1885), I thought it could be interesting and helpful to add some verses to personalize it a bit, especially as a way to meet my heart when it’s in more of an anxious and dark place. In the actual song, the first couple stanzas are in response to the richness and wonder of God’s creation, so this exercise was to try starting from the place of a hurting, near-sighted (and self-sighted) spirit and see if there’s a way to re-orient the focus of that [familiar] spirit to the greatness of God, even in the midst of worry and grief.

  1. Oh Lord my God, I’ve stumbled in the valley,
    I’m hidden from Your grace and from your peace
    I find myself so shaken and despairing
    And wonder if my soul shall find release

    Still sings my soul, my Savior God, to Thee: How great Thou art

  2. And when my head is full of lies and worry,
    I fail to grasp how generous You are…
    I see the birds and sun and moon and flowers,
    You care for these, much more so for my heart

    So sings my soul, my Savior God, to Thee: How great Thou art

  3. I’m overwhelmed by hatred and injustice
    That fills this earth, and cannot see You clear
    Hardships don’t cease, they fill my heart with anguish;
    I cry to You, it feels not like You’re near

    Still pleads my soul, my Savior God, to Thee: How great Thou art

  4. When bridges burn and on this isle I wander
    I look around, it seems like I’m alone.
    I search for You, I seek with cries and weeping…
    I beg of You to come and take me home.

    So wails my soul, my Savior God, to Thee: How great Thou art

  5. Forgive me Lord, when I believe the Liar
    And when they taunt, “sin triumphs over grace!”
    Please point me to the cross, the grave still empty,
    And lead me to the sweetness of Thy face

    Then sings my soul, Victorious God, to Thee: How great Thou art!

Posted on

my constant theology hangover

I’m not completely sure what got me started, but lately I’ve been absorbing “Christian thought” at an alarming rate. Feeding this new addiction are the myriad of books, YouTube videos, podcasts, not to mention personal Bible reading and being heavily involved in church life. I find myself asking way too many questions and questioning everything, some questions stemming from doubts, others from past ignorance, and still others out of anger toward Christianity “lived out” on the macro scale, as shoved into my face by CNN and the like, no thanks to Franklin Graham and the Southern Baptist Convention.

I’m frustrated with myself for asking questions this “late in the game”. I’ll be 33 in a month, and I feel like I wasted 20 years by stuffing my questions back into my body, by going with the flow with the bizarre teachings of my Christian church and school, and by growing into adulthood well-acquainted with grace and orthodoxy but truly unsure of how to translate these beautiful things into my worldview and way of life.

I honestly don’t even know where it began. I blame therapy. I had challenged people, the people I was very comfortable with of course, here and there about theological matters, especially my long-suffering seminary student husband. The questions I had been asking though, honestly, were peripheral to the ones I really needed answers to. The ones that meant everything. I have learned and grown a lot through therapy, and my main goal in therapy has been to fight against fear, to be a more brave person. And one of the scariest things for me is to be completely and utterly honest. Even as I type that, I feel the nausea set in, as well as the desire to turn off the computer and maybe wash the dishes for a change. Anything to avoid what’s really going on inside of me.

So, here’s the question I’ve wrestled with, ignored, shoo’d away, buried beneath other less-daunting questions:

Is it possible we’re wrong?

“We’re” meaning the evangelical Christian community, in which I’m fully a part (at least from a membership standpoint).

“Wrong” meaning–wrong about everything. Wrong about God being real, not even getting into “loving” or “Creator” or “desiring community with us”, etc. Wrong about Jesus. Wrong about how salvation works. Wrong about who we let “in” and who we leave “out”. Wrong about the Bible and its authority. Wrong about heaven and/or hell. Wrong about why we’re even on earth. Wrong about how we do church. Wrong about how we treat each other. Wrong about the relationship of our faith and our culture.

This is a dauntingly open-ended question. So I ask a follow up question:

If it’s possible that Christianity is “wrong”, is Christianity still worth the risk?

Baby steps.

Right now, my answer is Yes. Christianity is worth risking being wrong about. Sure, chalk it up to naivete or the fact that I was “born into it”, but in my life I have “tasted and seen that the Lord is good”, as they say. I’ve seen lives change before my eyes as a result of the Jesus story. Sometimes Christians suck and they make me angry, and sometimes I suck and I doubt my own growth, but then I see Jesus and believe that he and he alone is enough for me to be okay with being a Christian.

So, that’s where I’m at right now. I’m a Christian because Jesus. I’m betting everything I have on it, because I see no other compelling alternative. But, I still have a lot of other questions, ranging from parts of the Bible that confuse me, to how church should work, to what sin and hell look like, to how I should live and fellowship with others. And for this journey, I’ve been soaking in all kinds of teaching and literature to the point where I’m suddenly exhausted every night and feeling dead when I wake up each morning, head literally aching due to what I’m calling “theology hangover”. Not sure exactly how to cure this other than to drink some coffee and let it ride.