“This Joyful Eastertide” performed by Akua Akyere Memorial Youth Choir
George R. Woodward of England (1848-1934) wrote “This Joyful Eastertide” to a seventeenth-century Dutch folk tune. The Akua Akyere Memorial Youth Choir of Ghana performs above.
1 This joyful Eastertide away with sin and sorrow! My love, the Crucified, has sprung to life this morrow.
Refrain: Had Christ, who once was slain, not burst his three-day prison, our faith had been in vain: but now hath Christ arisen, arisen, arisen; but now has Christ arisen!
2 Death’s flood has lost its chill since Jesus crossed the river. Lover of souls, from ill my passing soul deliver. [Refrain]
3 My flesh in hope shall rest and for a season slumber till trump from east to west shall wake the dead in number. [Refrain]
“Christ Jesus Lay in Death’s Strong Bands” performed by choir and congregation of the Te Deum Conference at Concordia University (2015)
This moving hymn by Martin Luther comes to us through Englishman Richard Massie (1800-1887). The tune is a modification of a chant by German Johann Walther (1496-1570). The Psalter Hymnal Handbook states Luther may have worked on this arrangement as well.
1 Christ Jesus lay in death’s strong bands For our offenses given; But now at God’s right hand He stands And brings us life from heaven. Therefore let us joyful be And sing to God right thankfully Loud songs of alleluia! Alleluia!
2 No son of man could conquer death, Such ruin sin had wrought us. No innocence was found on earth, And therefore death had brought us Into bondage from of old And ever grew more strong and bold And held us as its captive. Alleluia!
3 Christ Jesus, God’s own Son, came down, His people to deliver; Destroying sin, He took the crown From death’s pale brow forever: Stripped of pow’r, no more it reigns; An empty form alone remains; Its sting is lost forever. Alleluia!
It’s Holy Saturday, so let’s begin with a few words about Christ.
By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people? And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth.
Yet it was the will of the Lord to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the Lord shall prosper in his hand. Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities. (Isaiah 53:8-11 ESV)
As for other subjects:
Read good books: Reading thoughtfully, like having a good conversation with an author, may be the very thing you need to reset your soul and rebel against the spirit of the age. “Christians who immerse themselves in creative writing are good stewards of their time — not wasteful — because writing, reading, and ruminating on words can glorify our Maker.”
Read and walk too: Some people have taken to walking while reading; some of them really can’t see where they’re going.
Booksellers New Friend?Once considered the embodiment of everything that was wrong in bookselling, Barnes & Noble is succeeding and many indie booksellers are rooting for it. (via ArtsJournal)
Isaac Watts’s “Alas! and Did My Savior Bleed” set to a common Irish folk melody
Good Friday. I have a book I want to review, but I’ve got to address more important things on the holiest weekend of the year.
Above, a beautiful rendition of O Sacred Head, Now Wounded, with words I’m not familiar with. The hymn’s origins are complicated. The original poem, of which this hymn is just a section, was written either by St. Bernard of Clairvaux or by Bishop Arnulf of Villers-la-Ville. The section was translated into German by the famed Lutheran hymn writer Paul Gerhardt, a pastor who suffered greatly during the Thirty Years War. The traditional setting is by no less a composer than Johan Sebastian Bach. The traditional American translation of the text came from James W. Alexander, a Presbyterian churchman and scholar.
To my mind, this is the best Lenten hymn. But there are many other fine ones out there too.
I want to write about a point of apologetics tonight. I’ve probably laid it out here before. But it seems to me the absolute, rock-bottom argument for Christianity.
Your mileage may vary. I may even be talking through my hat. All our proofs, I am certain, will whirl away like autumn leaves when we behold the One whom Father Ailill likes to call the Beloved.
Ask anyone what’s the most important thing in the universe. Doesn’t matter who. Christian, Jew, atheist. (This may be different in countries with non-Abrahamic religions – I know less about them. But I’m addressing my neighbors, my fellow Americans and Europeans.)
You know what the answer is: Love. Love is the answer. Love is all you need. The greatest of these is love.
But does this make sense outside of the Christian faith?
I’m sure there are lots of atheists around who also say, “Love is the answer, love is the greatest thing.” They take it for granted. It’s the minimal place-holder for religion they’ve been raised with (even if they were raised by other atheists).
But if there is no God, what does that mean? If the ultimate truth of the universe is impersonal, how can love be the answer? Objects don’t love. Energy doesn’t love. Rocks don’t love. Trees don’t love.
Only persons love.
If some Person doesn’t lie behind all the material things we know, then love means nothing. Because sentient creatures will die out eventually, and then love will go away. And it won’t be the answer.
Christianity says that a Person made the universe, and loved us, and demonstrated the greatest love conceivable in the atonement and resurrection.
Blab about love all you want, but if you don’t believe in that God, then it seems to me you’re just surviving on the scraps you picked up under Christianity’s table.
You could choose Judaism or Islam, I suppose, but there’s no parallel act of love.
This being Good Friday, I want to write about an idea that has confused some people, the nature of sin. I’ve heard recently of people saying all sin is equal in God’s eyes so does God condemn an abuser with the same severity as the gossip? No, he does not, and you wouldn’t have to read far into the law God gave Israel in Exodus through Deuteronomy to see that the proscribed punishments intend to fit the severity of the crime.
All sin does separate us from God, even the minor ones, and that is because these sins are the fruit of the original sin that accomplished our separation. The Fall is our original rebellion, the act that put all of us into a state of sin. The toddler screaming at his parents isn’t divinely separated for screaming. The teenager repeatedly refusing parental accountability isn’t marked a divine rebel for these acts. Both of these are examples of the fruit of original sin, and this is the sin that separates all of us from God. Only in this way are all sins equal.
“Just as sin came into the world through one man, and death through sin, and so death spread to all men because all sinned— for sin indeed was in the world before the law was given” (Rom 5:12-13 ESV).
Even before we had a law to identify the fruit of sin, deadly sin was in the world, and this is the sin for which Christ atoned on the cross. This is the reason for Good Friday.
The root of sin, the source of every sinful act we have done, has been nailed to the cross and blotted out by the blood of atonement. “As one trespass led to condemnation for all men, so one act of righteousness leads to justification and life for all men” (Rom 5:18 ESV). That life is available to all who take Christ Jesus at his word–that this sin is a deadly serious matter, deeply engrained in all of us, and that he has atoned for it completely on the cross.
Diane took a deep breath. “I saw her come at you. I was a hair’s breadth away from gunning her down. But I knew she was just another scared and confused person – a victim in all this. And I let her stab you instead. Which feels like a betrayal.”
I waved a hand at her dismissively. “I’m one of the worst people in the known universe. And I can’t feel pain. People can stab me.”
Frank J. Fleming is a treasure – creator of the hilarious IMAO blog, and now a leading light at the indispensable Babylon Bee, he writes some of the funniest stuff going today. And he’s now three books into his Superego series, a dark-comic space opera about Rico, the greatest assassin in the universe. Rico is untethered by conscience and genetically engineered to be a perfect fighting machine. Only now he has somehow fallen in love with a tortured Christian woman called Diane and is trying to make himself worthy of her. In Superego: Betrayal, this change of course has landed him with responsibility for leading a rebellion against a universal criminal empire run by his own father.
I didn’t enjoy Superego: Betrayal as much as the first two books, but the reason is easy to understand. Every story has an arc, and it’s necessary to include an act where things go from bad to worse and the hero’s goals seem impossible to achieve. This book holds that position in the series (unless it gets even worse in the next book). Hopes are dashed, friends turn to enemies, people you like die. I hope Frank isn’t going to Game of Thrones this series, but can tie it all up and give us our happy ending in the next volume.
I’ve been reading C.S. Lewis’s That Hideous Strength with friends over the last few weeks. We came to an appropriately seasonal chapter this week. The plans of both heroes and enemies are being revealed, and the theologically minded villain says, “The Head has sent for you. Do you understand–the Head? You will look upon one who was killed and is still alive. The resurrection of Jesus in the Bible was a symbol: to-night you shall see what it symbolised. This is real Man at last.”
The kingdom of God is of this earth, the man says in another place, and we will bring it about in this generation by pursuing this counterfeit Christ called the Head, the first artificial man.
I won’t reveal the particulars of this grotesque evil, in case you haven’t read this one yet, and it doesn’t matter for my point. This is a creative effort of anti-humanist planners who carry on the tradition of the best eugenicists. They wish to remake man in their own image and call him God Almighty.
The creation of divine counterfeits occurs in every generation. Some of them run like a bad sequel; some make even Christ’s followers comfortable.
Of very great importance, in order to do the work that Christ did, is that we take heed that the religion we promote be that same religion that Christ taught and promoted, and not any of its counterfeits and delusive appearances, or anything substituted by the subtle devices of Satan, or vain imaginations of men, in lieu of it. If we are zealous and very diligent to promote religion, but do not take good care to distinguish true from false religion, we shall be in danger of doing much more hurt than good with all our zeal and activity.
edited from “Christ the Example of Ministers,” John 13: 15-16
Calvin apparently thought it easy to raise up ourselves even though we intend to raise up Christ, easy to be conformed to the world and call it conforming to Christ.
And didn’t Christ Jesus say, “See that you are not led astray. For many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am he!’ and, ‘The time is at hand!’ Do not go after them” (Lk 21:8 ESV).
Last night’s lecture, to the Synnøve-Nordkapp Lodge of Sons of Norway in St. Paul, was memorable enough that I might as well report some of the highlights to you.
I had a quiet day to prepare myself and pack my impedimenta. I have been known to forget to bring important things (such as the books I was planning to sell), so I always worry. I’m happy to say I brought everything I needed.
And that was about the last thing that went right, from a technical perspective.
Synnøve-Nordkapp Lodge had not met for a regular meeting in two years, due to circumstances you’ll easily guess. I arrived at the church where they gather to find some people setting up the meeting space, a large hall (it appeared to be a multi-purpose space used sometimes – perhaps every Sunday – for worship). When I asked about setting up for my PowerPoint presentation I was directed to a gentleman in back, sitting in front of an array of screens and multimedia gear.
I talked to him about my needs, and he explained that the church had changed the setup since the last time he’d used it. He couldn’t figure out a way to get the images on his screens projected onto the big screen in front. He made a call to somebody who was supposed to know, and spent the next hour-and-a-half or so talking to them, with no success.
The meeting began at last, and I grew fairly certain I wouldn’t get the use of the standing equipment. When the president announced me, I asked if I could get a table and some time to set up my own projector (which I’d brought along, being a belt-and-suspenders kind of guy). They happily accommodated me, and I spent a few hectic minutes setting my projector up and connecting it to my laptop.
Nothing. I couldn’t project an image either.
This was beginning to resemble a witch’s curse.
Finally I admitted defeat and delivered my lecture without visual aids. I gave it my all, summoning my considerable reserves of eloquence (or, as the skalds would say, opening my word-hoard). Taken as such, the lecture went very well. The audience was attentive and even laughed in the right places. And I sold a good quantity of books afterward. Got lots of compliments. So it was a good experience in itself. But ah, I regretted the lovely images I hadn’t been able to use.
I decided as I drove home (through hail part of the way; a nasty weather front passed through just then. It was suitable to the general theme of the evening) that my problem had been not trying the projector out with my new laptop ahead of time. I became convinced my new Windows 11 system couldn’t communicate with the old projector. Today I determined to run out to the computer store and buy a new, up-to-date projector.
But I didn’t go for some reason. And after lunch I had an attack of prudence and tried the projector with the laptop again. I discovered I’d used the wrong socket for the connector.
Now that I know the fault was mine, everything makes sense again. All’s for the best in the best of all possible worlds.
I suppose I should have mentioned yesterday (or before) that I’ll be speaking to the Synnøve-Nordkapp Lodge of the Sons of Norway at Gustavus Adolphus Lutheran Church in St. Paul, this evening at 7:00 p.m. But I doubt very much that it would have made a difference. On the other hand, I’m posting early tonight, so who knows?
Above is an officially released clip of the new Viking movie, “The Northman,” starring Alexander Skarsgård. These guys are supposed to berserkers, who famously went into battle unarmored, so they should not be viewed as representative of how the average Viking went to war.
I’ve read a review, and it sounded promising. This may just be the “good” Viking movie we’ve been waiting for forever.
I have the opportunity to attend a preview one week from tonight, and I plan to attend with some other friends in Viking costume. I’ll let you know what I think.
My prediction: My review will be, essentially: Good flick. Not for kids.
This post will probably be drivel. Because I’m going to try to talk about things I can’t express. (Doesn’t stop me trying to express them, of course).
To open the proceedings, I’ll talk about my visit to the dentist today. I had a checkup recently, and mentioned to the dentist that I was having trouble with teeth-grinding. He scheduled me for an appointment to get my mouth scanned for an “appliance.”
The appointment was today. I thought it was at 2:00. I got home from the grocery store and realized the time was precisely 2:00. I had missed the appointment. I called to apologize. “We have you down for 3:50,” the receptionist said.
Oh. OK.
So I went in at the hour appointed, and they turned me over to a very pretty young technician. At least she had very pretty eyes. The rest was under a Covid mask. She had me sit in a chair, and then wrestled some kind of scanning wand (about the size of a loaf of bread, or so it felt) into my mouth to scan my bite. It went very slowly. They were having trouble with the scanner today, she explained. At length she called in a slightly senior technician (who also appeared young and pretty), who manhandled the thing for a while, finally pinning it to the mat.
As I sat there having my teeth re-created in digital space, I gave some thought to the wonders of modern science. The amazing things we can do that weren’t even imagined for most of my adult life. And all based on the basic question of logic, “Yes or no? One or not-one?”
I love that thought because it’s utterly consistent with Christian theology. Christian truth is, as Francis Schaefer taught me long ago, “propositional.” A choice is offered. You choose yes or no. Truth and untruth are two different things. Everything else flows from this understanding.
People keep trying to propose some kind of spiritual truth that bypasses binary choices. But they end up saying nothing. Pondering tautologies, imagining them profound. Has anyone ever tried to work out a computing language that manages without the binary? Is such a thing even possible?
I don’t know. I do know that we’re performing miracles with good old true/false.
And this brought to mind a spiritual experience I had this Sunday in church. At communion, which is a good time for spiritual experiences.
As I knelt for communion, I suddenly had – what shall I call it? Not a vision. Nothing as dramatic as that. It was a sort of a thought, except that I couldn’t verbalize it. Still can’t – and I’m considered pretty good at verbalizing stuff.
It was compelling, for just a moment, but afterward, as I walked back to my seat, I tried to put it into words and I realized I couldn’t. It was as if I’d physically touched a truth with my mind, but my mind couldn’t grasp it, and came away with no more than the impression (you might call it a feeling) that I’d encountered a Truth.
It had something to do with eternity. With how it is in eternity with God. That all things are accomplished, that what today we consider incomplete is in fact complete and perfect in God.
That’s not quite it either. But it’s the best I can do.
It gave me a sense of peace and trust. But I can’t explain why.
What I brought home with me was a statement I posted promptly on Facebook:
“There are truths that are beyond reason, not because there’s anything wrong with reason, but because reason’s suspension isn’t tough enough for the terrain up there. For those truths, God has given us wonder.”
Which doesn’t at all explain my “vision” during communion. It just describes how I had to deal with it.
