The foothills of Heaven this life has been called marked by footprints of what waits in store. Eternity’s summit. Celestial air and the promise of, oh, so much more.
The foothills of Heaven invite us to climb while exploring the beauty we see in the love of a mate and contentment at work as we wait for what one day will be.
The In Memoriam segment at The Academy Awards is a highlight
It happens so often. Breaking news interrupts and informs us of someone who’s died. Blindsided, we Google in search of the facts that fake news can easily hide.
When Hollywood loses a star that we’ve loved, It’s not just the sky that grows dark. We grieve for a friend that we never have met who has brought lasting joy to our heart.
Their death’s a reminder that life is a mist. Like a vapor it’s here and then gone. But silver screen greats can still be found in their films. When we watch them, it’s like they live on.
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 In an age when church hymnals have been replaced by modern worship choruses projected on screens, singing while holding a book has become a disappearing phenomenon.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.”
Zach Mason in the center with his dad Dick (left) and Seahawks legend Jim Zorn (right)
We celebrated the life and faith of Zach Mason (the son of my college classmate) last Saturday. It was the day before the Seahawks final game of this unforgettable season. Ironically, the last time I spent time with Zach was the Saturday before the Seahawks first game of the season last September.
That was the day I was able to host him in his wheelchair on a tour of the Seahawks training facility in Renton. Both Saturdays were bittersweet occasions. I shared with the congregation last Saturday memories of that first Saturday when Zach focused his gaze on the Vince Lombardi trophy from Super Bowl XLVIII displayed in the VMAC lobby.
In my eulogy I shared my hope that the Seahawks would add a second Super Bowl trophy with a win over the Patriots as a way of honoring Zach. In my preparation to speak at Zach’s memorial, I discovered another irony. Zach passed away two weeks shy of his 40th birthday from Lou Gehrig’s Disease. What I didn’t know was that Lou Gehrig died two weeks before his 38th birthday.Both men, who died way too young, credited their parents with helping them achieve in their various platforms of pursuit. Both had optimistic outlooks on life. They were thumbs-up young men!
As I looked back at the photos I took of Zach on the day we toured the VMAC, it dawned on me how often he posed with a thumbs-up gesture. That inspired me to write the following poem to share at the memorial service. (It was put to music by our gifted friend Dave Irish.)
Thumbs-up Zach, you signaled hope. Your ready smile (though steep the slope) conveyed a faith in One unseen to whom your soul belongs.
Thumbs-up Zach, we miss your smile that eased our worries midst your trials. Your can-do gesture was a sign that all would be okay.
Thumbs-up Zach, you loved your girl. She was the essence of your world. With Zoe, you found inner strength to persevere and fight.
Thumbs-up Zach, you are okay. Your skies are blue, while ours are gray. You’re home with Jesus, strong and free. Someday we will be too!
* Zachary Christian Mason is survived by his parents Dick and Debra, his brother Jordan and his daughter Zoe. Peace to his memory!
Cemeteries are holy ground where seeds of love are sown
You took the time to hand out treats to pintsize bandits on the street who rang your bell last Friday night. It’s what you do each year.
But then come Sunday, did you list the names of those you dearly miss who left us through the door of death within the past twelve months?
There’s Halloween and All Saints Day. We know the first, but dare I say we often overlook the next and fail to pay our dues.
It’s not too late. There still is time to make a list. There’s yours and mine. And thank the Lord for those we’ve lost who we won’t e’er forget.
Peace to their memory!
In addition to each week’s post on this website, Greg Asimakoupoulos offers daily video devotionals on his YouTube channel. Here is a sample video. If you are interested in receiving these devotionals Monday through Friday, you can subscribe on Greg’s channel.