I honestly cannot tell you where or when I first heard this hymn, but it has stuck with me for several years now. I chose it as the first one to be played and sung as people came up to receive Communion during my ordination: “Thine the Amen” (ELW 826). I wasn’t overly comfortable getting so much attention that day. It turned out to be rather draining, quite honestly. Ministry as a whole, not just with pastors, but for all of us, can have that tiring effect. That isn’t to say some of us have our moments of appreciating being recognized for what we’ve done in the sacrifice department (some of us pastors have our rather egotistical moments, too).
Sometimes, I worry about the church as a whole being bogged down in hopelessness, being convinced our best days are behind us: those days when we had to get to the sanctuary so many minutes before worship commenced. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be a seat for us. As if there was more God to be awed over, then, more Jesus flowing through our hearts, more Holy Spirit rushing through the church building. As if our happiness and joy can only be found looking back as opposed to looking forward; not so sure what God could possibly do with our current resources. Sure, God could pull off a universal-altering Resurrection inside a tomb of nothingness, but this?
I started taking piano lessons in the 2nd grade, but really just “did” the lessons, since I usually only practiced about an hour or two before said lesson each week. Regardless, I still remember the first “lesson” when sitting beside my piano teacher: finding middle C, that white key in the middle of them all. Honestly, I remember, just as much, being intimidated by the other 87 black-and-white keys. How could I possibly play something when I have to find the right key to press down amidst all 88 of them? How in the world can I play multiples at a time, not to mention sharps and flats and sometimes double-sharps or flats (!?!), and then the pedals down below, too? That anxiety carried over to a fair share of recitals, to say the least, even though I never got to a song that included all 88 keys anyway.
We call it Holy Week, but maybe we could refer to it as our annual roller-coaster ride, going from the joyous parade of Palm Sunday (albeit just to a donkey height or so) to Jesus getting as low to the ground level of our humanity as possible in washing others’ feet for Maundy Thursday, and sharing a meal right alongside as well, before being lifted up on a pain-filled cross for Good Friday, carrying over into the heart-wrenching waiting and anticipation of that holy Saturday, and then the ultimate joy and celebration of the Resurrection. The Holy Week title has its reasons, but a roller-coaster ride of emotions has its realistic description as well, not just for the Messiah, but for us, connecting to our whole life: a roller-coaster ride that Jesus is, evidently, willing to hop on board no matter the dips and rises or speed or twists and turns. If the cross can’t stop him, nothing that happens in our life can, either.
As I have compiled this list of my favorite hymns (which are put in the order as they appear in the ELW hymnal, and are, by no means, a complete list of all the pull-my-heartstrings songs), I notice these may not be the most familiar tunes/texts for the veteran Lutherans among us. It is no different for what is currently my favorite hymn in the Lent section of our hymnal, “Seed That in Earth Is Dying” (ELW 330). When it comes to the reasons why certain hymns become our favorites, sometimes it’s just one reason in particular. Other times, there are several.
