I think I’ve mentioned before that I love the Cathedrals and that I’m a George Younce fan specifically . . .
I’m definitely hearing it!
So, your invitation was sent out 2000 years ago, but have you responded? If you haven’t, I’d get right on that before another day goes by. If you have, aren’t you excited?! I certainly am! This is one wedding that I wouldn’t miss for the world!!!
O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s a light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free!
Refrain
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
Through death into life everlasting
He passed, and we follow Him there;
Over us sin no more hath dominion—
For more than conquerors we are!
(Refrain)
His Word shall not fail you—He promised;
Believe Him, and all will be well:
Then go to a world that is dying,
His perfect salvation to tell!
(Refrain)
This hymn came to mind yesterday as I was reading something else, and I found that I could only remember the chorus, not the verses, so I had to go look it up. I think I like the chorus best, which probably explains why that was the part I remember.
We say that we walk by faith and not by sight, but that refers to physical sight. I sometimes like to think that in “looking to Jesus” (Hebrews 12) in our mind’s eye, we do see, but perhaps that’s all that faith is, really. Faith is the means by which we can look beyond the world around us to see what God is doing and to become a part of God’s work.
Through faith, we focus on Jesus, and as the things of earth grow less important, strangely enough I think they become easier to deal with. Kind of ironic, but there it is. As long as we look at the world and worry about what we’re doing, our walk will be hard, but when we look to Jesus, we won’t even notice the boulders we’re climbing because we’re so intent on Him.
Isn’t that how we usually get through tough challenges? Keeping our eyes on the prize? Let’s do less worrying about the day to day and instead rejoice over that great day that’s coming. Sing it with me:
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace!
In His Time
In His time, in His time,
He makes all things beautiful, in His Time,
Lord, please show me everyday,
as you’re teaching me your way,
that you do just what you say,
in Your time.
In Your time, in Your time,
You make all things beautiful, in Your time,
Lord, my life to you I bring,
may each song I have to sing,
be to you a lovely thing
in Your time.
This is the prayer of my heart right now as I step forward in faith. I’m daily learning how much more I can trust Him to take care of in His own perfect time. If it were up to me, I’d probably have run ahead much to fast, but He knows exactly what I’m ready to tackle, so He’s pacing me just right to finish the race where He wants me to be.
We sang this song for worship this morning.
This afternoon, I had to go hunting all over YouTube to find the original hymn on which the Casting Crowns version was based! I remembered the chorus tune from the original, but had forgotten the rest. It’s been a long time since I heard it! I found only a few videos of the original hymn, but I found this video, which was beautiful. Although the singing is in Korean, the power of the music wonderful. Funny how the best songs sing in any language …
I also loved this pianist and arrangement, so I had to share it too.
Personally, I much prefer the original hymn to the Casting Crowns version (sorry guys), but that’s par for the course with me!
Have a Blessed Resurrection Sunday!
Here’s a post that got me thinking this morning: Bob Kauflin on Why Christians Sing. Tim Challies posted a link to the post. You might like to check his blog out as well.
Why do I sing? Because of the joy within! When I “rejoice evermore,” it usually comes out as a melody. Sometimes I have to make up my own words, but usually the tune is one of my favorite hymns. Or occasionally, I get a tune like this one stuck in my head!
I’ve got a weakness for the Irish accent, but that’s by no means the only reason I liked this video! Note that Andy Leftwich is on the fiddle. I encourage you to check out the Getty’s website for more.
Thanks to Tim Challies for this other great video that sent me on a tour of exploration!
Like bluegrass music? How about fiddles that sing, dance, and tap your foot for you? I happen to like bluegrass, especially bluegrass gospel, and in my exploration of the genre came across a guy named Ricky Skaggs, who’s an awesome musician (that’s got to be the understatement of the month) and a Christian to boot. I saw him playing with the Boston Pops some time back, and I fell in love with the style of Kentucky Thunder (his band). Most of all, I found a weakness for a well-played fiddle. And who do you think was playing that fiddle? A young man named Andy Leftwich.
I have other musical likes as well, but recently I’ve been listening to my bluegrass CDs again, and I remembered how much I enjoy hearing fiddle music. Since there is no chance I’m learning to play fiddle myself, I’m thinking I’ll have to get myself a copy of Andy’s solo album, Ride.
Andy doesn’t just play fiddle, as you can see in the photo. He also plays the mandolin and the guitar — quite the talented musician! I encourage you to check out these YouTube videos of Andy, Cody Kilby, and Byron House: Shark Tooth and Shining Water.
I sometimes admit to fiddling around, but Andy does a whole different kind of fiddling around, and he’s a lot better at it!
In my book, it is always a season for singing, but Christmas time just doubles my vocalizing for some inexplicable reason ;)!
I’ve always loved Christmas songs, especially carols. I remember the excitement of my first years as part of our church Christmas plays, pageants, or choirs. Some years we had a play based around Christmas, and I sometimes got to act, which I also enjoyed, but I loved the years we had a choir.
Standing on stage for the performance looked nothing like all the rehearsals. For one thing, rehearsals tended to be during the day, while performances were in the evening. Speaking or singing to a darkened sanctuary sent a tingly feeling up my spine. And then there were people out there! Sure, I knew there would be people, but the size of my church never came home so dramatically as when I got up to perform in front of a couple hundred eyes.
I still have fond memories of the first solos I sang for Christmas. One year, I sang “Away in a Manger” as a trio, but the next year, they chose a different girl to sing with the two sisters I had performed with previously. I was then asked to sing a verse of “O Come, All Ye Faithful” all by myself. After being disappointed in not getting to sing in the trio again, I was floored and a bit nervous to get a whole solo! Later, I was also asked to sing a trio with my two siblings. While I wasn’t that much of a singer back then, I meant what I sang, and I did my best, two things which cover a multitude of wrong notes or mistakes.
I’ve sung solos in each church after that, sometimes in Christmas cantatas, sometimes in Easter cantatas, and sometimes just for fun. My favorites, however, are the Christmas songs. I didn’t think of singing Twila Paris‘s “It’s the Thought” until much too late to pull it together this year, but maybe next year I’ll have the time. For this year, my solo in the Christmas cantata is enough.
Although carols are my favorite, there are a select few other Christmas songs I like. Bing Crosby’s version of “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” is fabulous, and I was caught by something in an old rendition of “Silver Bells” that I like. I’ve even gotten to like “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” after seeing the Fred Astaire movie of that name. Of course, my favorite modern Christmas song is Mark Lowry‘s “Mary, Did You Know?” That’s because my father sings it most years, and although he doesn’t sing it like Lowry, his version is as good or better!
Christmas time is a great time to sing because the songs of Christmas revolve around . . . you guessed it, Christ! I can’t imagine anything better to sing about than God’s gift to mankind. Sure, there are a lot of parts to that gift, from the manger to the empty grave. I love to sing about them all, but as I like to say, my favorite song is the one I’m singing right now!
Have you ever been blessed by Twila Paris’s song “How Beautiful”? It’s a beautiful song about the phenomenon commonly known in Christendom as the body of Christ.
How Beautiful the hands that served
The Wine and the Bread and the sons of the earth
How beautiful the feet that walked
The long dusty road and the hill to the cross
How Beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ
How Beautiful the heart that bled
That took all my sins and bore it instead
How beautiful the tender eyes
That choose to forgive and never despise
How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ
And as He lay down His life
We offer this sacrifice
That we will live just as He died
Willing to pay the price
Willing to pay the price
How Beautiful the radiant bride
Who waits for her Groom with His light in her eyes
How Beautiful when humble hearts give
The fruit of pure love so that others may live
How beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ
How beautiful the feet that bring
The sound of good news and the love of the King
How Beautiful the hands that serve
The wine and the bread and the sons of the Earth
How Beautiful, how beautiful, how beautiful is the body of Christ
I heard that song as a young girl, but I didn’t understand the concept then. I was part of the Body even then, and I understood that all Christians were God’s people, and that we sometimes referred to them as the Church or the Body of Christ. What I didn’t get then was that we are God’s representatives, the face by which the rest of the world knows Christ.
The song made so much more sense after I read Fearfully and Wonderfully Made and In His Image, by Dr. Paul Brand and Phillip Yancey. This pair made the Apostle Paul’s analogy, comparing Christians to a physical body, come to life. We are not only Christ’s hands and feet, but his lips, his skin, his blood. The analogy, while not perfect, goes much further than I originally gave it credit for.
Some Christians are lungs, they breathe in the fresh air of the Spirit. Others are like blood vessels, carrying the oxygen (truth) to all other parts of the body. Most importantly, we as Christians function like skin. We are the organ through which God touches the world and the people therein.
The analogy is amazing, the books are eye-opening, and the song is an outpouring of love not only for the Body, but for the Head, who is Christ. In this day and age when Christians are so divided, so willing to go separate ways over such little details, I cannot help but wonder what the Body looks like to the world. And why God would continue to allow us to bear his name. It’s only through his grace that we are his representatives. God grant us more grace that we can act more like our physical analogy, a body whose parts work together for the good of the whole.
The Rebelution posted a link to this video of a Georgia rebelutionary and after watching it, I had to share it with you. Andrew is trying to win a contest run by 104.7 The Fish, which you can read about here. Andrew’s song Matthew 7 is great, as are his vocals and guitar playing. I’d want to invite him to my church if we lived anywhere near each other, but since we don’t, this is the best I can do for now.
My favorite songs are not among the top 40 hits. Most of them aren’t recent releases, weren’t written by popular artists, don’t deal with hot topics in our culture In fact, some people might even think the theme which runs through my favorites is rather disturbing.
I like “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder,” “I’ll Fly Away,” “Sweet By And By,” “Face to Face,” “This World is Not My Home,” “This Ole House,” “What A Day That Will Be,” and “I’ve Got a Mansion.”
Yep, I like to sing songs about going to Heaven. Now you’re thinking, why did I start by saying that the theme is disturbing? Actually, it’s only disturbing to those who hear me talk about how I can’t wait to get to Heaven. I’d be willing to give up everything on earth – family, friends, future (which by the way means a lot because one of my fondest dreams is of raising children with my future spouse) – I repeat, I’d be willing to give up everything and go to Heaven this very minute if that’s what God wanted for me.
I think my preference in songs comes from an understanding that I don’t belong here. My allegiance is no longer to this world, to the things in it. I’m a pilgrim headed for another land. That’s the theme of I Peter, and when you think about it, Peter knew all about being a pilgrim. He had walked with Christ himself; Christ, who had no home here on earth (Matthew 8:20). Sure, Christ grew up in a house that he could have called home, I’m sure there were plenty of friends like Lazarus, Mary, and Martha who would have been glad to have Jesus call their house his home, but Christ had a home in another land. Should I be worried about my home and my stuff and my shortsighted dreams when I have a mansion in glory land that’s been prepared by the Master?
I think of another song, “It Is Well With My Soul.” We sang it in church only this morning, and the last verse goes like this:
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll,
The trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul!
I sing that verse with my whole heart behind it. Some could tell you that I have a tendency to be hasty about a lot of things, but this is one area where I think being in haste can be appropriate. I’m in haste for Christ to call us home. People in my circles have been saying for years that this generation will see the rapture — that sounds great to me; I’m perfectly willing for it to come today!
Now while that shouldn’t sound strange to my fellow Christians, I’m afraid it sometimes has. I know others who feel as I do that have also gotten perplexed reactions to their joy in “death.” We’re not anxious for death. We’re happy about life after this world. Death has little meaning for the Christian. It’s simply a transition from this life to the next, and since the next life is so much better, it shouldn’t be surprising that we are in haste to make the change.
I’m not saying that death isn’t sometimes painful, but it shouldn’t be frightening, and it is not lasting. Death should frighten only those who have never met God and been transformed by the power of his love. Christ defeated death when he died on the cross at Calvary nearly 2,000 years ago. If you have trusted in Christ and given your life over to him, then you can say with Paul the Apostle, “O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?” (I Corinthians 15:55, KJV).
Another thing I’m not saying is that I am in any way, shape, or form planning to take matters into my own hands. I’m in a hurry to be with Jesus, but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to go directly against his will and kill myself. Suicide is self murder, and besides the amount of grief it causes those left to pick up the pieces, suicide is a way of saying to God, “I know better than you when I should die.” I sometimes act like I know better than God, but I’m too squeamish to ever go that far!
I have taken hold of the promise of Heaven. I can’t wait to be with God forever. You’d think that more Christians would understand the longing to be with God, in his presence. If we love someone, we want to know all about them, want to imitate them, want to be around them. My desire for Heaven grows out of this love for God. I know God is still teaching me many things here on earth (by virtue of the fact that he still has me here), and I understand that I’m not ready to walk those streets of gold, but that can’t stop me from longing for that glorious day when I see my God face to face!
Many people will tell you their father is awesome. I’m one of them. My dad is not perfect, but he keeps trying, and he knows how to help me keep trying too. I’m my father’s daughter in a lot of ways. I’ve been told since I was small that I look like my dad; I have his (near-sighted) blue eyes, his curly hair, and his light build. I’m like him in several personality points as well, but my favorite similarity is our musical talent.
I remember the first time I did special music with my father. Dad did special music on a fairly regular basis at church (the same one where I was baptized), and one day when I was eight or nine, he asked me if I would like to sing with him. Of course I wanted to. I loved to watch him do specials, and I had dreamed of doing one too.
We decided to do “Amazing Grace.” A very original song choice, I know, but it was my favorite song at the time, and one that I already had almost memorized. We rehearsed for several weeks. I remember being nervous in practice because I had difficulty picking out my cue to begin. You see, Dad had me sing the first verse solo while he accompanied on his guitar. Then he sang a second verse solo, and we both sang the last verse.
But I couldn’t seem to figure out where to come in.
I would start the first verse too early, or I would be late. Finally, Dad began giving me a visible signal, dipping his guitar toward me just a little so that I would know when to start singing.
The day we did our special, I was pretty excited. I don’t think I remembered much of the rest of the service that day. I was too focused on being ready when it was our turn. We had checked out the microphones before Sunday School, so that was all set, we just had to walk up, and Dad had to get his guitar ready, and then we could sing. That was plenty of time for me to get nervous, however.
We weren’t going to a huge church, but it was big enough to be intimidating to me. I looked at the congregation and was glad I wasn’t up there alone. As it was, I suddenly developed nerves. But Dad started his introduction, and I turned my head enough that I could see his signal when it came. I certainly didn’t want to miss that in front of all those people!
I got through the song just fine, and I became more comfortable as we went on. Once it was over, though, I think I felt like running back to my seat. Several people said nice things to me afterward, but I was so shy and nervous that I could make little response. I did want to know that people liked it, but I wasn’t sure how to respond. After all, this was new territory for me.
I’ve done quite a few specials with my father since that first one. Our specialties are hymns and some old choruses. These days I usually have my guitar too. Yes, I learned to play from my father, using his old guitar. We’ll have a double duet, my father and myself, and Betsy and Marie. I used to wonder why my sister got her tendency to name everything; I don’t wonder after I learned that my Dad named his guitars.
My singing sounds much better now (especially since I’ve been taking singing lessons), and Dad sometimes will sing harmony beneath my melody. I have to smile sometimes because I may carry the melody in the vocals, but Dad definitely has the cool guitar part. I just keep the rhythm going. Still, I know I’m contributing in both ways, and it sounds pretty good to me, even though I don’t hear it in the correct balance because I’m one of the performers. For our latest special, I even sang solo with Dad accompanying on his guitar. Singing solo has been a major hurdle for me, and I’m glad to have finally made it over.
I’m my father’s daughter in another way; I seem to have inherited his songwriting gene. Dad has written a dozen or more songs, some of which I like to play with him and others which he sings alone. I sometimes feel like I have a song simmering inside me, but as yet, only a few have come forth. For every good song I’ve started at least three that I couldn’t get right. I doubt that my songs will ever end up on the top 40 list, but they are one more way that I express my joy.
Some of my favorite times have been playing guitar with my father, learning new songs and coming up with different arrangements of old ones. Thanks, Dad, for giving me a new outlet for the music in my heart.
Why is it that some people look at the piano with awe and others with dread? I’ve met some people who think they could never learn to play, even people who play another instrument. I’ve met other people (including one of my relations) who hate the piano. Each likes to hear someone else play it well, but would never go play themselves.
I’ve had a conversation or two lately about how hard it is for parents to know when to encourage a child to pursue an instrument (or a lot of other things for that matter) and when to step back and let them alone. I only know that my mother did a good job with me. I may not be a concert pianist, I may not be much good at chording, and I may be shaky on expression, but I truly enjoy sitting down at the piano and pulling out some music to play.
I started with piano in third grade. Mom had played the trumpet when she was in middle school, not piano, but she bought a couple of books and we worked through the lessons. I would practice for a week on a piece, and then she would listen to me play. If I hadn’t gotten the piece down in a week, I worked on it for two. Mom even kept up with me for a few months, learning the lessons herself. That didn’t last because she just didn’t have the time, with three kids on her hands, but it was an encouragement to me that she thought it was worth the time to try.
From the beginning I had trouble with keeping a steady beat, but we didn’t have a metronome, so I just did the best I could with my foot. Mom had me practice three times a week, making sure to warm up with some exercises and a few old lessons before I started work on the week’s assigned piece. Even with the simple stuff I was doing I got frustrated because I couldn’t play it like I thought it should sound.
So Mom had me take a year off. In fourth grade I did a variety of different instruments and other types of music. When it came time for fifth grade, I was ready to go back and give piano another try.
This time I remained patient and worked hard to improve. I liked to play songs and sing along, but we didn’t have a lot of songs that were easy enough for me to play. The music in my lesson book tended to be silly little songs, not the hymns and children’s songs that I knew. So I worked toward a day when I could sit down with those songs and sing along.
I still had to practice at least three times a week, but Mom mentioned that if I wanted to get better, I’d need to practice more often, so I started playing more. Even if I didn’t run through a lesson, I would sit down and try to plunk out a tune that I knew; sometimes with better success than others. I’ll always be grateful that Mom didn’t make me do scales. I think she has wondered sometimes whether she ought to have, and I’ll admit that I would be much better with chording and a few other things if I had drilled over my scales. However, I am sure that if I had felt forced to do my scales every time I practiced, I would have come to dislike piano very quickly.
Don’t get me wrong, I know my scales, or at least most of them, I’m just rather slow at playing them. The reason I’m sure that I would have balked at too much scales is that I balked at the metronome. When I was eleven, we got a digital piano to replace our old keyboard. The new piano not only could sound like several different instruments and record your playing, it had a built-in metronome.
I hated the metronome. My rhythm had not gotten much better over the years, and I was forever falling behind or going too fast. Usually falling behind. Mom had me practice with it for a few weeks, but I got so annoyed at that metronome that she quickly decided not to force the issue.
Thanks to Mom’s hands off approach, I stuck with the piano. I wasn’t into a classical music much, but I taught myself the “Fur Elise” for fun, when it was actually a level or two beyond my skill. I even memorized it at one time! Now, I don’t memorize anything very well, except the words and tunes of songs that I sing, but I memorized the “Fur Elise.”
Eventually, I began playing at church. Some of the other young girls often played something for Offertory, and the church pianist asked me to help out. After a few years, I took over scheduling the Offertories and playing whenever I couldn’t find anyone who wanted to play for a particular week. By then, I was also playing for morning services every so often. I even played a few pieces with my sister. Four-hand piano music (played by two people at one piano) can be tough to coordinate, but I had improved my skills enough to use the metronome sometimes in order to help me stay with her. We only did that a few times due to limited music choices, but it was fun.
I don’t play fancy piano. While I have had fellow church members compliment me by saying that it sounds like I have three hands playing, I do only have two, and they really aren’t playing difficult music. I’ve seen a few concert pianists play, and I come nowhere close. I don’t even keep up with my brother 3G, who taught himself to play the piano after he had already taken the clarinet to a great height. He has more musicality than I’ll ever have, so even if he is not as quick at sight-reading the whole staff (clarinetists usually only have to read one line of notes, while piano music often has four or more notes to play at once), he has much more expression than I have.
At the same time, I like the way that I play. I don’t have to play fancy piano. I just like to be able to sit down and play the songs that I like to sing: hymns, choruses, and some contemporary stuff. I can play quite well enough to do that. I began taking singing lessons this spring, and my mother says that has actually improved my piano playing, as has teaching TJ and BP to sing. I’ve got more expression than I had before, so maybe I have a chance to play as well as 3G someday.
Maybe.
Right now, I’m just happy to play plain piano.
I grew up with hymns in church; that was almost the only Christian music I knew, although I’ve heard quite a bit of Keith Green, Twila Paris, Phil Keaggy, and Randy Stonehill. I remember hearing a lot of Twila in particular.
On the whole, however, I did not hear much contemporary stuff, though I’ve picked up a few names of a few singers and bands. When my family recently began attending a new fellowship with contemporary music, I got a little bit of a culture shock.
Over the last six to eight months, I’ve gotten used to the new music, though it’s not my choice of relaxing listening material and it’s not what I choose to sing around the house. I prefer hymns and older choruses that have doctrine worked into the text. Most of today’s music seems to be worship or praise choruses, and not only are the lyrics a bit hard to follow sometimes, but the tunes begin to sound alike after awhile. Granted, that theoretically makes it easier to pick up and sing a new song, but I like something a bit more distinctive – music that will stick in my head.
I’m not saying that contemporary Christian music is bad. Just that most of it does not fill my requirements. Twila Paris remains one of my favorite singers (granted, she’s more my parents’ contemporary than mine). I’ve learned a few new songs that I do like. For instance, one of Jeremy Camp’s called “Beautiful One.” I used that to make another Animoto, which can be seen here, BEAUTIFUL.
I guess I’m going to be slow to abandon the old favorites: “I’ll Fly Away,” “There Is A Redeemer,” “Lion of Judah,” “Wonderful Grace of Jesus,” “Stand up, Stand up for Jesus,” “This World is Not My Home,” “Create in me a Clean Heart,” “Be Thou My Vision,” “Spring Up, O Well,” “The Lily of the Valley,” and many more. They’re also great done in Smoky Mountain Style.
I'm not necessarily your average homeschool graduate, but I'm here to share my thoughts on homeschooling, growing up, and life in general. Take a look around, and I hope you will be encouraged and challenged by the things you find.
Reflections of a Homeschool Graduate 
What You are Saying