Chaplain's Corner

There’ll be light in the sky, from the palace on high,
When I come to the end of the road.
Sweet relief from all care will be waiting me there,
When I come to the end of the road.
When the long day is ended, the journey is o’er,
I shall enter that blessed abode,
For the Saviour I love will be waiting for me
When I come to the end of the road.

The only reason I can share the words now is that just this past spring (2008) after years of wondering about this song whose tune and a few words remained clear in heart, I finally found the song in it’s entirety, thanks to a fellow named Bob from Saskatchewan who responded to an internet inquiry that I sent out to “Chyberhymnal.org” a wonderful website for those who what to get in touch with a wealth of Christian hymns that have now been almost forgotten. Bob tells me it is in the old Sinsgspiration Favorites #2 and if any of you have a copy of this, would you mind letting me know. I sure would like a copy of the music.

This was a strange experience and it’s impact on was even stranger. Why should a twelve year old boy be drawn to the open door of a church on a week day evening as a song that he didn’t even know was being sung? Why should that song’s melody and a few key words have stayed locked in his conscious memory for forty-three years? What am I to make of this as it is, after all, my experience?

Strangely, as I have reflected on this, it seems that the melody and those few words rose to my consciousness at times in my life when my longing for heaven was greatest. As a boy I was very spiritually sensitized. I wasn’t a “goody two-shoes” as a boy. I was a pretty rough and tumble kid who loved adventure and strayed far and wide, mostly alone, exploring the world in which I was living. It was a time when it was safe to allow your kids to do this unlike the days in which we now live.

But for reasons I can only credit God with, my soul was open and I was easily touched by God. I thought a lot about heaven and hell and living and dying and because I lived in a time and among Christians that pounded End Times themes pretty hard; I lived with a not so healthy fear that the Great Tribulation of the Book of Revelation was going to come and I would some how get left behind. After all, I never had the piety of my older brother who seemed to “walk with God” all the time and I never seemed to measure up to the expectations of everyone religious in my life. Even as a boy, going to heaven was a big deal to me. I didn’t want to do anything to miss out on this, for from everything I was told, it was sure something I wanted; but living in a “never quite measuring up” environment sure made it tough. This lively spirituality that I possessed was buffeted by an equally deadly dose of never quite being able to meet the standards. It was only later in life after I began to study and evaluate spiritual matters for myself that I realized that the “grace” that was talked of was not all that well understood, for it seemed that this feverish concern about measuring up lacked an understanding of God’s gracious provision for our failures.

Well, all that gets me back to the certain matter that I have been pondering as Thanksgiving rolls around again. I am thankful this year for songs of faith: especially hymns. This may reveal my age or possibly my own spiritual journey as I see the place for more contemporary worship music but not to the exclusion of the old hymns of the faith. Unlike many of you, I get to sing these hymns six times a week with older worshippers here at Bethesda Place and on the Rehab Unit at Bethesda Hospital. These chapel times are spent singing the kind of hymns that a 70 or 80 or 90 year old worshipper would be familiar with, hymns that are part of one of these saints spiritual history and that continue to be deeply meaningful to these older worshippers. Because these same hymns were the ones I cut my spiritual teeth on, they remain deeply meaningful to me as well and I am deeply grateful to the Lord for the opportunity to raise my voice in praise to Him using these hymns.

Sadly, music has been one of the primary flash points in churches over the years. Churches have split and Christians have bitterly gone their separate ways over what kind of music is used in worship. This is a travesty! Would I rather worship to the rich tones of an organ and sing hymn written 300 years ago – sure! But should I get myself all tied up in knots and develop hateful feelings toward others who would rather worship to the beat of the drums, and cords of the guitar using songs written in the last 10 years – never!

I am grateful for these old hymns. Many, many times I have been lead towards God through the singing of these hymns, through the truth encapsulated in these hymns. Some of them have found a place so deep in my heart that any spiritual distress triggers the melody and I find comfort in simply humming the melody and remembering the words. Maybe you have a hymn that like “The End of the Road” seared itself into your heart and gives you hope and courage and encouragement whenever you need it.

This Thanksgiving, although there is so, so much to be grateful for and so much that I am grateful for, I am especially grateful for the hymns of the Christian Faith, old and new, that help me remember, worship and trust God. I am grateful that the many traditions of our Faith offer their own hymns that if explored will further enrich and deepen our understanding of and trust in God. After all, God himself links music and gratitude when he encourages us to “Speak to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Ephesians 5:19-20)