Today's Scripture Reading (October 7, 2025): Psalm 100
Many years ago, I conducted an experiment. For one Sunday evening service during the summer, I thought we could simply sing the songs that meant something to us —the ones that we rarely sing in church anymore. And so, I gave the people of the church a chance to
request a song, or an unlimited number of songs, that they wanted to sing on
this summer evening. The requests began to pour in, which was a good sign. Some
came from people who never made it to the evening edition of worship service,
and I doubted whether they would make it on this Sunday evening either. The
votes began to mount. It quickly became apparent that there were some
favorites, requested several times by different people, or perhaps they were
stuffing the ballot box or campaigning for their preferred candidates. I didn't
really care which was true. The evening worship service came, and we gathered
to sing the songs of the people. For this evening, the only criterion was that
a group of people wanted to sing the song. A Christmas carol was equal to an
Easter hymn, or just an old Gaither chorus that had fallen by the wayside. I
wasn't going to preach. For a few of the songs, I would tell the story of the
hymn writer or share a memory that I had of the song and what it meant to me,
but I didn't choose any of them. All of the songs came on little slips of
paper, requested by somebody else.
Late in the service, with only a
couple of songs left, one older gentleman stood up with a question. Why had we
packed one service with so many funeral songs? I looked down at the last two
songs of the night that we were about to sing and recognized that they, too,
could be considered funeral hymns. The simple answer was that we are singing
these songs because they are the ones that people had chosen for this service.
But there was also a more profound question. Why, in the middle of a beautiful summer,
had we decided to sing so many songs that could also have been sung at any
funeral?
Perhaps the most obvious answer
is that our songs often focus on the next life rather than this one. "I
Believe in a Hill Called Mount Calvary," "My Jesus, I Love Thee,"
"In the Garden," and many others of our favorite songs focus on what
comes after death. Sometimes, songs that deal with life are dismissed as being
too shallow theologically for inclusion in church worship services.
Recently, I participated in a
social media discussion about the merits of the Christian Hit "Good, Good
Father" as a worship song. The song did not fare well in the debate, most
feeling that theologically it did not measure up. And yet, it is a happy tune
with a message that I believe we need to hear. Consider the chorus of the song.
You're a good, good father.
It's who you are, it's who you are, it's who you
are
And I'm loved by you.
It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am
Some in the discussion thought
that the song's lyrics were decidedly selfish, focusing more on the individual
than on God. But I disagree. The message is not a complex one, but it is a
necessary one and one that we need to hear. God is a Good Father; it is part of
his essential character. And we are loved by him. We are the beloved, which
again is a consequence of the nature of God. It is a joyful song that
concentrates on our life here and now.
The Psalmist insists that joyful
songs are always welcome in God's presence. Don't discard all those beautiful
songs that remind us that our death is not the end. However, we also need to
remember that God intends us to be joyful in this life; that our joy begins
here and continues there. Our worship songs should reflect that fact. After
all, we are the beloved of God. What more could we want?
Tomorrow's Scripture Reading:
Psalm 102
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