A few weeks
ago in church, we sang the hymn "A Christian Home." I've sung it
before (it's a favorite of my dad's to sing on Mother's/Father's Day because of
the opening lines about godly fathers and mothers), but I had never before
really closely listened to or thought about the words. As the hymn swirled
around in my brain throughout the following week, I kept getting caught up in
the word's of the third verse:
"O
give us homes where Christ is Lord and Master,
The Bible read, the precious
hymns still sung;
Where prayer comes first in
peace or in disaster,
And praise is natural speech
to ev'ry tongue;
Where mountains move before a
faith that's vaster
And Christ sufficient is for
old and young."
All of those thoughts are powerful: a home in which Christ
is both Lord and Master; a home in which reading the Bible is done consistently
and without drudgery and where the old hymns are sung with joy regardless of
their "oldness"; a home where prayer is ceaseless in times of peace
and times of disaster; a home that functions outside of the realm of what's
normal because of faith that can move mountains; a home that thrives on the
sufficiency of Christ. Rich and beautiful thoughts. But you all noticed I
skipped one, didn't you? "And praise is natural speech to ev'ry
tongue." I don't know about you, but praise is not natural speech to my
tongue on most days. My natural speech is generally whiny and full of
complaints, and as I sang this verse over and over again, it became the prayer
of my heart. A home, a life where praise is my natural speech.
You see,
before singing this hymn in church, I was already struggling with a serious
bout of spiritual apathy. I've always been quick to be judgmental towards
overly emotional spirituality. I've been in environments where those emotions
were a gross display of hypocrisy. It seemed (especially in college) that I
would see these Christians who raised their hands, swayed to the music, prayed
gushy prayers, and even occasionally wept and wailed all without any sign that
their life was affected by this worship after they left the church or chapel
service. Yet, I had to realize, aren't I doing a similar thing in my own life?
I know what I believe, and I follow it too. I am generally morally upright (on
the surface at least, if not in my core), and I can hold my own in theology
discussions with people triple my age. But where is my joy? Where is my
worship? Where is my praise? It certainly isn't natural speech to my tongue,
but oh how I want it to be!
I feel like
a child who needs to learn how to speak, but instead of words, I need to learn
praise. And like a child just learning to speak, there will be times when my
praise comes out sounding silly or is expressed wrongly, but I can never learn
if I never try. So I cry with David "O Lord, open my lips, and my mouth
will declare your praise" till praise is natural speech to my tongue.
Sincerely,
