No trash talk, Mr. President. My grandkids are listening. In our house insults and put downs are not allowed. And I would expect the same rules apply in your House.
After all, to belittle is to be little. And as Commander-in-Chief, being little in not part of your job description. Leading by example is. So is protecting the Constitution.
Profanity is lazy language. Calling people names is childish. And here you are almost eighty years old. Perhaps you need to re-read what St. Paul said about growing up. “When I became a man, I put away my childish ways!”
A gentleman minds his mouth and holds his tongue. He is most kind to everyone. He aims to leave a legacy by focusing on praise.
C. Austin Miles wrote this hymn a few weeks before Easter in 1912
For the past two decades I have hosted hymn sings for older folks who miss the good old songs of the faith. In an age when church hymnals have been replaced by modern worship choruses projected on screens, singing while holding a book has become a disappearing phenomenon. And as I pastor, I recognize that not everyone relates to or appreciates singing off-the-wall lyrics.
One of the popular aspects of the hymn sings I lead is sharing the backstory of how beloved hymns came to be written. I refer to these anecdotes as “the him (of her) behind the hymn.” One of my favorite rest-of-the-story hymn histories relates to the most central theme of Christianity that we celebrate this weekend.
As Easter Sunday 1912 drew near, a New Jersey hymn writer by the name of Austin Miles was faced with a challenge. His publisher had asked him to come up with a hymn that was “sympathetic in tone, breathing tenderness in every line; one that will bring hope to the hopeless, rest for the weary, and downy pillows to dying beds.”
Not quite sure how to approach such a specific assignment,
Miles retreated to a dark room in his basement where this amateur photographer would go to process his pictures. This time, however, he was hoping for inspiration to develop singable word pictures that would please his publisher.
The mustached hymnwriter, who resembled a Kentucky Colonel, sat in his dark room lit only by a soft red lamp. He opened his Bible to the 20th chapter of the Gospel of John. It was one of his favorite passages of Scripture. As he read the account of Mary Magdalene arriving at the empty tomb, by his own admission he fell into kind of a trance. As I read it that day, I seemed to be part of the scene. I became a silent witness to that dramatic moment in Mary’s life, Miles wrote in his journal.
He found himself in the scene personally observing the interaction between a grieving former prostitute and someone Mary perceived to be the gardener. But then as the risen Christ spoke her name, her sorrow was swallowed up by joy.
Even though that dark March day was cold and dismal outside, it was as though Austin Miles was basking in the warm sunshine of a spring day. He grabbed paper and pen and began to write lyrics inspired by what he’d seen in his vision. Later that evening, he composed music to accompany his words. He called his hymn “In the Garden.”
On Easter Sunday as 1912, as Austin Miles gathered with his wife and other Christian believers to celebrate the good news of Christ’s resurrection, the poem he had just put to original music was no doubt filling his joyful mind and heart.
Not only had he achieved the assignment his publisher had given him in a timely manner, but the train-pharmacist-turned-hymnwriter had written a timeless hymn. “In the Garden” with it’s familiar refrain “and He walks with me and He talks with me and He tells me I am His own…” would become one of the most beloved Christian songs of all time. To date it has been recorded and printed over a million times.
Austin Miles could not have imagined what would take place in the decade that followed the writing of “In the Garden.”
Within a week of that Easter Sunday, families in North America and in the United Kingdom found themselves in need of his comforting words to salve their grieving hearts. On April 14th in the icy waters of the North Atlantic, the Titanic would have a catastrophic collision with an iceberg. Tragically, some 1,500 souls would be lost.
Within two years World War 1 would break out in Europe. What would last for more than four years would result in more than 15 million deaths. And as that devastating source of heartache was concluding, the Spanish flu broke out claiming some 50 million lives.
What Austin Miles’ lyrics called to mind for grieving families over the next several years remains a timeless truth. It is a hymn that visualizes the reality of our resurrection hope made possible two millennia ago.
Because of that borrowed grave unexpectedly vacated after only a weekend’s use, Christians around the world can sing with confidence “and He walks with me and He talks with me.”
John Perkins was a pastor, author and civil rights leader in Mississippi
The voice of Calvary called his name and John knew he was loved in spite of the way his troubled life began. His mom died when he was just seven months old. Soon after, his father fled the scene abandoning the boy.
Raised by his grandmother and a community of sharecroppers, John’s dreams for a promising future grew on a Mississippi plantation. But they were dashed at sixteen when his brother Clyde (a decorated war veteran) was killed by a white cop.
Still the voice of Calvary kept calling his name. Moving west, he sought a new start. But he found the same old prejudices he’d known in the south.
Yet that voice would not be silenced as he married and became a father although it was hard to hear during the Korean conflict. In his young son Spencer’s invitation to Sunday School, John began to hear the voice more clearly.
And through two radio preachers by the name of MacArthur and McGee (with whom John became acquainted), the voice of Calvary was amplified.
The voice called John and his family to return to Mississippi to mend and haul. And in Mendenhall he mended frayed relations between whites and blacks and hauled away the debris of decades of mistrust.
In the midst of it all, John not only continued to hear the voice but he also found his voice. His was a prophetic voice that spoke about love and mercy, justice and equality, compassion and courage, healing and hope reconciliation and restoration.
And though John’s voice has been silenced, the voice of Calvary continues to be heard in the legacy he leaves.
Greg Asimakoupoulos’ very first book of poetry was published in 2000.
Here is the introductory poem in Greg’s book Prayers from My Pencil.
God’s Artists
Poets are God’s artists. With pen in hand they sketch the world with ink and words and metaphor. They do what they adore. In the process, they draw a door to truth for those who seek to knock.
Poets, you see, are finders who are not content to keep their treasure to themselves. They must express what they confess to see. It’s a passion that burns within.
Awake to life, their hearts afire, poets pray on paper. They are keepers of the flame that blazes in the soul of humankind.
Here is the poem that inspired the writing of Prayers from My Pencil.
Prelude to Worship
As I sit in silence for the service to begin, I wonder how the living Lord might speak to me again.
Will it be the songs we sing or in the pastor’s prayer? It just might be the sermon or a need somebody shares.
Maybe God will touch my heart through laughter or a sigh, or even through distractions like a newborn’s hungry cry.
Whatever means God chooses as He bends my ear His way, I will worship God expectantly for there’s something He will say.
What follows is a YouTube link featuring Greg Asimakoupoulos describing Prayers from My Pencil when it was first published in 2000. Copies can be ordered directly from the author. Email Greg at asimakoupoulos@gmail.com
The fireplace mantel in our family room on Oscar Night
All that glitters is not gold. The silver screen finds us focused on aliens and vampires, monsters and demon hunters and the untimely death of a child. Such movies are not for the faint of heart.
But in a world of sinners, we should not be entirely surprised. Life is more than a ping pong game. It’s one battle after another! Secret agents have weapons! Yet if looks could kill, we’d all be guilty.
We are, after all, flawed and broken people longing for redemption, seeking love, acceptance and forgiveness in the context of community. If only we could find those things, our future would be golden. And, come to think of it, that’s what the Good News promises!
How many movie references can you find in the above poem?
My Rhymes and Reasons 