War Songs and Peace Songs:

God speaks peace to his people.

(Psalm 85:9)

I’m still enjoying Songs of America by Jon Meacham and Tim McGraw. The story of America moves from war to war: Revolutionary War to War of 1812 to Mexican-American war to Trail of Tears to the Civil War. Each side, as Lincoln noted “Read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other.” We might add, each have their songs of triumph.

The turn of the twentieth century brings America into another war. Only this time the war is to be fought “over there”:

Over there, over there,

Send the word, send the word over there

That the Yanks are coming, the Yanks are coming

The drums rum-tumming everywhere

So prepare, say a prayer,

Send the word send the word to beware—

We’ll be over, we’re coming over,

And we won’t come back till it’s over, over there.

It is rousing. The problem is, it’s never over “over there”.  My father blamed Roosevelt for getting us tangled up “over there”. “If we would have stayed out of Europe,” I remember dad explaining to me, “Fascism and Communism would have destroy each other.”

Maybe that’s why dad did everything he could to keep me, and my buddies, out of the Viet Nam war. It was one of those “over there” wars. That’s why he dated Gary and Janice’s wedding certificate by the date of the rehearsal rather than their actual wedding day—it had to do with the draft.  Just as the Viet Nam war had its protest songs, like CCR singing “I ain’t no Senator’s Son”; so too the Great War (WWI), I learned, had its protest songs, like this lament:

I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier,

I brought him up to be my pride and joy,

Who dares to place a musket on his shoulder?

To shoot some other mother’s darling boy.

Let nations arbitrate their future troubles,

It’s time to lay the sword and gun away,

There’d be no war today,

If mothers all would say,

“I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier.”

If mothers can’t put a stop to it; maybe, thought Dietrich Bonhoeffer on the brink of yet another world war, the church could. He spoke of it during the morning deviational that began an Ecumenical Youth Conference in Denmark. He spoke from from Psalm 85 – “God speaks peace to his people”:

Only the Holy Church of Christ over all the world can speak out so that the world, though it gnash its teeth, will have to hear, so that the peoples will rejoice because the Church of Christ in the name of Christ has taken the weapons from the hands of their sons, forbidden war, and proclaimed the peace of Christ against the raging world.

That didn’t work either. Christians once again went to war against Christians. Nationalism prevailed over Christendom.

Abraham Lincoln, in his second inaugural address, speaking from another Psalm—Psalm 19, speaks more of tragedy than triumph: “Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away.” War, as soldiers know best, is a “mighty scourge.” We can pray that this mighty scourge of war passes away; while at the same time honoring “those who gave,” as Lincoln said at Gettysburg, “their last full measure of devotion… that this nation under God… shall not perish from the earth.” 

History and Song:

Singing with grace…

(Colossians 3:16)

This morning, by the fire pit, I enjoyed reading Songs of America by John Meacham (historian) & Tim McGraw (singer). It caused me to think of how the Bible can’t tell the story of God’s salvation without songs.

When Hebrew slaves found themselves free on the other side of the Sea; Moses and Mariam, with tambourines and dancing, lead the Israelites in song: “Sing to the Lord…” (Ex 15). The Psalter sings through Israel’s history from Moses (Ps 90) through the Monarchy (David), to the Babylonian Exile: “By the waters of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion” (Ps 137). 

As one would expect, the birth of the Christ Child comes with song: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace…” (Lk 2). And so too, at the consummation where: “They sing the song of Moses, the servant of God, and the song of the Lamb…” (Rv 15). In short, the grand story of our salvation is told as a musical joined by the heavenly choir. There’s a good chance that if you miss the music you won’t get the story. The Gospel Story can’t be told without song.

Surprised by Tozer #5 of 5:

But God remembered Noah.

(Genesis 8:1)

Tozer was my father’s hero. Dad always felt that if I could just get enough Tozer, my faith would hold tight. He would read portions to me, “Listen to this son…” Apparently I listened enough to hold on to the faith. Maybe it’s because Tozer was dad’s hero that I would seek others of my own — someone like Bonhoeffer or Lewis. Someone I thought bigger and better than dad’s. But I never got passed or beyond Tozer. He keeps weaving his way in and out of my life. Whenever I hear his voice, I hear my father’s as well—a duet. Every time I come back, I’m surprised by Tozer—surprised by how good he is. Always better than I thought.

In an editorial on “The Use and Abuse of Good Books”, Tozer concludes: “The book that leads the soul out into the sunlight, points upward and bows out is always the best book.” What a great sentence! Tozer knew how to write a sentence—so clean, clear and precise. And yet, so spacious and full of poetic wonder: “leads the soul out into the sunlight, points upward….”  Who but Tozer could write such a sentence? And then comes that little phrase: “bows out’? How good is that?

Great writers (teachers, thinkers, leaders), like Tozer, point to wonders beyond themselves; and free us for our soul’s own adventure into God’s spacious sunlight. Bad writers, narrow us down, and rob us of space. They claim us for themselves. Good writers, like Tozer, bow out. He gives us space—room for the Spirit of God to do his own unique work in our lives. The good author stays out of the way. He or she “bows out” and sets us free.

I’m not a Tozerite. He wouldn’t allow it—remember, he bows out.  But, I hope I’m Tozerisk. I hope that when the gathered gather, I too speak about God—about how he “remembered Noah,” and out of his freedom decided to place a rainbow in the sky as a promise that he will stick with his creation and somehow see to it that “it is good.”

Surprised by Tozer #4 of 5:

We are not peddlers of God’s Word.

(Second Corinthians 2:17)

I’m not surprised that Tozer guarded “this humble pulpit;” but I’m surprised who he guarded it against: “This humble pulpit,” Tozer insist, “is never open to a man who wants to prove Christianity…” (p. 18). Isn’t that a surprise? What’s wrong with someone standing behind the pulpit and putting up a few proofs?

It just so happens that “this humble pulpit,” from which A.W. Tozer spoke that Sunday evening, now stands in the seminary that bears his name: A.W. Tozer Theological Seminary in Redding, California. How this very pulpit got from Chicago to Redding is a long, surprising story. It has to do with a phone call I received from Chicago where the Dean of the seminary was attending a conference. While there, she got wind that Tozer’s Pulpit was in someone’s garage. She called because I had heard such rumors myself and told her if she ever got more information to let me know. She did. She had names and telephone numbers. All that was left was for someone to act.

By God’s providence, the next day after the call, I ran into a friend who had the wherewithal, both the finances and the wits, to execute. I made my plea. He said, “Yes”. And, the following week we were on a plane to Chicago.  We found the Hispanic pastor who had Tozer’s pulpit stowed away in his garage. Fortunately, my friend spoke fluent Spanish. I couldn’t follow the conversation, but I will never forget the results. We came back with a U-Hall Truck, loaded up “this humble pulpit”, and made our way west on Interstate 80 to deliver Tozer’s pulpit to the seminary that bears his name.

It’s one of those big bulky taking-up-space pulpits of former days. Its sheer girth reminds us of sacred space. We are not our own when we stand within this space. As the Apostle puts it: “Who is sufficient for such things? We are not peddlers of God’s word like so many; but in Christ we speak as persons of sincerity, as persons sent from God standing in his presence” (2Cor 2:17). Tozer was no peddler of God’s word. That’s why he guarded such sacred space.

Surprised by Tozer #3 of 5:: Tozer & Lewis

By faith we know…

(Hebrew 11:3)

Tozer speaks out against what he calls “modern fundamentalism”. It’s a surprising phrase. We don’t usually think of fundamentalist Christians as “modernist”, do we?

According to Tozer, what makes fundamentalist modern, is their insistence that by external reason they can prove the Gospel true. Tozer will have none of it. Listen to him rail: “This humble pulpit is never open to a man who wants to prove Christianity by means of appeal to external evidence. You can’t do it to begin with, and I wouldn’t do it to end with. We have something better” (p.18).

That something better is the internal witness of the Holy Spirit: “The Spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are God’s children” (Ro 8:16). “If someone can reason you into the kingdom of God;” Tozer often points out, “someone can reason you out of the kingdom of God.”  Tozer didn’t think much of apologetics: “I am taking Christian apologetics out of the realm of logic and putting it into the realm of life. …The proof lies in an invisible, unseen but powerful energy that visits the human soul when the gospel is preached—the Holy Ghost!"

Hearing Tozer fuss with apologetics caused me think of C.S. Lewis. Lewis (1898-1963) and Tozer (1897-1963) where contemporaries—almost to the year. Among evangelical Christians, Lewis and Tozer are the most read authors—both today more popular than ever. They never met. I doubt if Lewis ever heard of Tozer. They traveled in different circles. What Tozer heard or read of Lewis, he didn’t like—too much of a rationalist, Tozer figured. Tozer was wrong about Lewis. Lewis is much closer to Tozer than those “modern fundamentalist”. Lewis never uses the word “proof”; but, rather “clues”.

Lewis’ conversion from atheism to theism had to do not so much with external clues, as it did with internal “stabs of joy.” His conversion from theism to Christianity; however, was something even more internal, even strange. On his way to the London Zoo, riding in the side car of his brother’s motorcycle, Lewis, though a theist, was not a Christian; however, on their return home, riding in the side car of He his brother’s motorcycle, Lewis was a Christian. That’s it. From that side car moment on, Lewis kept the faith, and became one of the churches greatest defenders of the gospel.

If Lewis and Tozer could have met, I thing Tozer would be surprised by Lewis. He’s not the rationalist Tozer thought he was. Maybe Tozer would even allow Lewis to preach the gospel from his “humble pulpit”.

Surprised by Tozer #2 of 5:

Where the Spirit of the Lord is…

(Second Corinthians 3:17)

How to Be Filled with the Holy Spirit was the original title, but now it’s repackaged in a collection entitled Life in the Spirit. Probably a better title sense Tozer disavows any how-tos:

I have been afraid that my listeners might have gotten the idea somewhere that I had a how-to-be-filed-with-the-Spirit-in-five-easy-lesson doctrine, which I could give you. If you have any such vague ideas as that, I can only stand before you and say, “I am sorry”; because it isn’t true; I can’t give you such a course. (p. 23)  

Yet, by the end of the chapter, Tozer surprises us by coming up with something close to a how-to list of four ways (I may suggest a fifth since four is not a good number) to be filled with the Holy Spirit:

            1)  Present your body to Him… from Romans 12:1-2. That’s the whole of you—you as you; problematic body and all. “Your mind, your personality, your spirit, your love, your ambitions, your all” (p.28).

            2)  Ask, and it will be given to you… as Jesus says in Luke 11:9-13. Asking assumes a certain longing for God the Spirit to abide in us—to penetrate into the center of our being.

            3) The Holy Spirit is given to those who obey Christ… is how Peter puts it in Acts 5:32. It’s not easy to follow Christ. Of ourselves, we can’t even come close. Only the unseen power of the Holy Spirit can empower us to be followers of Jesus.

            4) You receive the Holy Spirit by faith… as Paul reminds us in Galatians 3:1-2. That’s the way it is with God. We would like more obvious signs, like speaking in tongues for instance. But such things can be contrived. “Whatever is not of faith is not of God” the Apostle tells us elsewhere.

            5) The Holy Spirit’s brings us into fellowship with the Community of Saints, as we confess in the Apostles’ Creed. That’s my fifth, not Tozer’s—though I’m sure Tozer would be okay with it. He speaks well of the creeds. It’s a reminder that the Holy Spirit is given not simply to me or you as individuals, but to the church gathered—the community of saints. Without the Holy Spirit’s presence among us, church doesn’t work. When the Spirit of God hovers over God’s people, it’s a beautiful thing to see and to experience.

Surprised by Tozer #1 of 5:

Let your speech be seasoned with salt.

(Colossians 4:6)

This morning, by the fire pit, I read Life in the Spirit by A.W. Tozer. Last week, a friend gave it to me and ask if I would read it so that we could discuss it together. The book is a compilation of Sunday evening messages by Tozer delivered in 1952 while pastoring Southside Alliance Church in Chicago (1929-59). In the preface, Tozer apologizes: “The fact that these [chapters] were originally spoken messages accounts for their racy style…” “Racy”? Tozer? That’s a surprise.

Tozer doesn’t bother to clarify what he means by “racy style”. He just lets it be. I’m guessing, it’s more like “speech seasoned with salt” as the Apostle encourages (Col 4:6). Maybe “racy,” compared to a formal Sunday morning service. You wouldn’t know about Sunday evening services. That’s how I grew up. After Sunday school and Morning Worship came halftime; and then back to church for the second half with Youth Group and Evening service. But, in the evening, things were different—less formal, even fun. The congregation loosened up. Apparently even Tozer loosened up.

In 1962, after graduating from High School, my father allowed Tony, Gary and I to drive his Volkswagen bug across country, before the Interstate, to Chicago where we attended a National Youth Conference. There was a caveat however, we had to promise dad that we would attend the 7:00AM morning devotionals led by A.W. Tozer. We kept our promise and every morning woke early to hear Tozer. Two things stick in my memory: 1) the sound of Tozer’s voice—unpretentious and real; and 2) that he talked to us about God—as if he knew God and found God immensely interesting.

That’s the voice I heard during my morning fire pit read. Here’s how he begins: “I don’t hope to tell you very much that is new; I only hope to set the table for you, arranging the dishes a little better and a little more attractively so that you will be tempted to partake. …What I want to do is to tell you the old things, but while I am doing it, to encourage your heart to make them yours” (p. 7). I wouldn’t call that “racy”, but it certainly is “seasoned with salt”.

Thoughts on David’s Elegy #2 of 2:

Your hero lies slain upon your mountains.

(Second Samuel 1:19)

Most likely, those of us who know something of the Bible story, think of King Saul as a tormented and troubled king—a failure. He will be replaced by our big hero, King David—a man after God’s own heart. Yet, it is David who insist that Saul be memorialized as Israel’s hero.

Saul is flawed, like all heroes, yet worthy of honor. Negative words could be spoken, as they could be at any memorial; yet, David speaks good, beautiful and honoring words concerning Saul, and invites us to do the same.

Each of us is a hero to someone. A flawed hero of course, but a hero nonetheless. Some folks think we are something—maybe within family, or civic life, or church life, or elsewhere within the sphere of our influence. In retirement, I’ve been surprised by kind words spoken to me by folks I didn’t know—folks on the margins of my pastoral influence. It’s best we don’t know about such things; otherwise, we would become obnoxious. But, what is good to know, is that we are a hero, in spite of ourselves, to someone—some of whom we have no idea. 

Thoughts on David’s Elegy #1 of 2:

How the mighty have fallen!

(Second Samuel 1:19&25&27)

What’s an “elegy”? Some have asked. An “elegy” is, as David puts it, a lament over the death of one’s friend. However, in David’s case, his personal lament over his friend Jonathan, stretches out to include Saul, Johnathan’s father, Israel’s king, and David’s nemeses. Both Saul and Jonathan die in the battle of Mount Gilboa. Though one could calculate Saul’s, and even Johnathan’s, demise in David’s favor; David sees to it that the nation laments their death. They were “beautiful …swifter than eagles, stronger than lions”—Saul with his sword and Jonathan with his bow.

Notice how the Last Word is held at bay in David’s elegy—not a word about eternity, not even a word about God. It’s always and already there on the horizon. But, as with David, the Last Word wouldn’t be the Last Word if we were to simply leapfrog over our present sorrow to arrive at the Last Word unscathed by life’s sufferings—as if we could get through life without lamentation. Thus, in the present, where we live in the shadow of the Last Word, we “intone our laments,” as does David (2Sam 17-27):

David intoned this lamentation over Saul and his son Jonathan. (He ordered that The Song of the Bow be taught to the people of Judah; it is written in the Book of Jashar.) He said:

Your glory, O Israel, lies slain upon your high places!

     How the mighty have fallen!

Tell it not in Gath,

     proclaim it not in the streets of Ashkelon;

or the daughters of the Philistines will rejoice,

     the daughters of the uncircumcised will exult.

You mountains of Gilboa,

     let there be no dew or rain upon you,

     nor bounteous fields!

For there the shield of the mighty was defiled,

     the shield of Saul, anointed with oil no more.

 
From the blood of the slain,

     from the fat of the mighty,

the bow of Jonathan did not turn back,

     nor the sword of Saul return empty.

Saul and Jonathan, beloved and beautiful!

     In life and in death they were not divided;

they were swifter than eagles,

     they were stronger than lions.

O daughters of Israel, weep over Saul,

     who clothed you with crimson, in luxury,

     who put ornaments of gold on your apparel.

How the mighty have fallen

     in the midst of the battle!

Jonathan lies slain

     upon your high places.

I grieve for you, my brother Jonathan;

     greatly beloved were you to me;

your love to me was wonderful,

     passing the love of women.

How the mighty have fallen,

     and the weapons of war perished!

An elegy at the loss of my friend:

They were swifter than eagles.

(Second Samuel chapter one)

David’s elegy at the loss of his friend Jonathan (Second Samuel chapter one) prompted me to try to write an elegy of my own. I’m not sure mine is actually a poem—nothing rhymes like Anna’s poems do. Let’s call it “As Long as there was a Ball”—in memory of Gary Kinser, 1945-2019:

As long as there was a ball,

     we played for keeps;

One-on-one,        

     with something to be won or lost.

While in college it was basketball,

     one-on-one to thirty by ones;

Winner not only gets top bunk for the week,

     but his girlfriend’s picture alone displayed.

Lots of sweat, bumps and grinds,

     swirling hook shots, fakes and jumpers;

Gary excelled at muscling in,

     while I finessed the perimeter.

There were other balls—a softball

     and a Ping-Pong ball for instance;

All played one-on-one with strengths and vigor,

     for there was always something to be won or lost.

It started from the first,

     while in junior high;

A one-on-one baseball game devised

     in my backyard.

It had to do with two cement steps

     to our back patio;

If you had a ball, a baseball for instance,

     you could make a game out of it.

Standing back some twenty feet or so,

     we would throw the ball at the stairs;

bringing all sorts of things into play,

     from a ground ball to a home run.

If a grounder,

     the other would have to field it;

Throw it on a bounce towards the high end of the patio,

     while catching the bounce back on base for an out.

If the ball caught the edge point of the steps just right,

     the ball would return high in the air;

Sometimes high enough to clear the hedge behind us

     —a home run.

When in high school,

     we played some team sports,

Gary at guard me next to him at left end;

     or, if baseball, Gary in center field, me in right.

But as long as there was a ball,

     one-on-one was our game;

With something on the line,

     —something bigger than we ever knew.