Do Not Despair, O Little Flock - a New Hymn

I haven't done this in some time, so I feel good about doing it again - writing new words for old hymn tunes. Today I have taken two of the texts from this week's lectionary reading (Ordinary 19 - Luke 12: 32 - 40 & Psalm 33: 12 - 22) and the German hymn tune Kommt Her Zu Mir  to write the following:

You are welcome to it if you like it.


Do not despair, o little flock, 
though the trials of this world rock 
your faith and disturb your calm,
for it is your Father’s pleasure
to give to you all the treasure
of his glorious kingdom.

Sell what you have – give to the poor
and store your wealth forever more
where thieves and moths cannot go;
for where you keep your wealth and worth,
whether in heav’n or on the earth,
there your heart will be also.

Kings are not saved by force of arms,
nor warriors from great alarms
by trusting in their own might;
but God’s eye is on those that fear,
on all those who to him draw near
and trust him through death’s dark night.

Be dressed and ready with your light,
for he may come this very night,
then we will open the door.
We set our hope upon the Lord,
who is our help, our shield and sword;
we praise him forever more.

Straining for Wit and Wisdom

There are some weeks when I sit down to write a sermon and everything goes well.  The words come out in a smooth and steady stream.  The images are clear, the ideas distinct.  I feel good in those weeks as I step up to the pulpit to share.

There are other weeks, however, when this is not the way. 

I struggle to compose my own thoughts. I strain for wit and wisdom. And I feel unworthy to assume my place at the pulpit. 

I know that there's no expectation that I'm going to deliver the THE sermon that will forever alter the course of human history.  I know that I'm not likely to share anything that hasn't been said somewhere else by someone else.  I think that I'm a good preacher and I don't worry about being a GREAT preacher, but in these weeks (and this is one of them) I would like the confidence of knowing that what I'm saying - as clumsy and poor as it may be- is helpful (or at least not harmful) to someone.  Is that too much?

This weeks sermon will come from Psalm 146, a great psalm.  It's one of the hallel psalms - a praise psalm.  Psalm 146 is one that is recited daily by Jewish worshippers - even today. 

The theme of 146 is trust.  Who do we trust?  Do we trust princes, and leaders, and politicians? Will they solve our problems?  Do we trust pastors, and preachers, and teachers?  Will they fix everything up just right? Do we trust Joe-six-pack with his homespun, working class, common sense? 

Or do we trust God, "who keeps truth forever"? 

Also in this psalm is an emphasis on social justice.  The praise sounded in this psalm would make Glenn Beck very uncomfortable.   The God praised in this psalm is one who is concerned for the oppressed,  for the hungry, for the incarcerated, and for the (gasp) immigrant. 

I will continue to wrestle with this text, and with my own unwieldy thoughts, and God-willing, it will all come together before Sunday morning.