The hymn “In the Garden” has always been a favorite of mine. Whenever I choose it to close out a lesson from The Hope of Glory in an assisted living setting, it blesses the ladies there, too. Faces brighten, voices are raised, and we even come up with a bit of harmony. It’s a beautiful, touching hymn, but I had no idea of its origin.
Thanks to the book Amazing Grace, 366 Hymn Stories for Daily Devotions, I was able to learn the whole story, and I discovered an Easter morning context.
In 1912 when author and composer C. Austin Miles was asked by his publisher to come up with a hymn that would “bring hope to the hopeless,” he opened his Bible to one of his favorite passages in John 20—the account of Mary Magdalene encountering the risen Jesus at the tomb that first resurrection Sunday.
“As I read it that day, I seemed to be a part of the scene,” he writes. “I became a silent witness to the dramatic moment in Mary’s life when she knelt before her Lord and cried, ‘Rabboni!’ (which means Teacher).” (John 20:16) Divinely inspired, he set pen to paper and wrote the poem, “In the Garden.” That same night he wrote the music. Knowing this, I now look at the hymn with a deeper understanding of its meaning. Come to the garden with me as we explore the three stanzas and the familiar refrain.
I come to the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses; and the voice I hear, falling on my ear, the Son of God discloses.
What gardens in your memory call out to you still? More important, do you hear the Lord calling you to meet with Him in His garden in the early morning light? He’s available any time, day or night, but it’s so much easier to hear His voice before the activity and noise of the day obscure it. Mary ran to the tomb at daybreak. Surely I can make it out to my chair in our living room.
He speaks, and the sound of his voice is so sweet the birds hush their singing; and the melody that He gave to me within my heart is ringing.
I can’t hear the birdsong outside with our house still closed up from the cold, but from my chair I delight in seeing the birds through the window. Annie, the little orange cat curled up on my lap, watches them with me. I read. I pray. And sometimes I hear His voice in reply. Earlier this week I was praying about what I should write for my Easter post. I heard three words in my spirit: in the garden. Ask and you may hear Him too. If not immediately, then perhaps some time during your day. Trust me. When He speaks, you will know.
I’d stay in the garden with Him tho the night around me be falling; but He bids me go—thru the voice of woe, His voice to me is calling.
How Mary Magdalene must have longed to cling to her Savior by the garden tomb that morning and to abide with Him forever. But it wasn’t her time to dwell with Him in heaven. Instead, Jesus “bid her go” to the disciples and tell them He had risen just as He said. And so she ran to them exclaiming, “I have seen the Lord!” (John 20:18) This Easter, could He be asking those of us who know Him to do the same? To share with others the personal encounters we have had with Him? I believe so.
Now, this beloved refrain:
And He walks with me, and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own, and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.
Were sweeter words ever penned? If you’ve yet to experience an intimate moment with the Savior, this Easter ask Him to meet you in the garden—the one He’s placed in your heart. He’ll show up. Will you?
Twice a year the discussion comes up about Daylight Saving Time and whether it’s time to do away with it. However, as of now it’s still in effect so most of us spring forward as requested. Sunday, March 12, is the designated day this year.
Spring forward into a new hobby. Preferably one you’ve been thinking about for a long time but never made it a priority. Good advice with any new venture is to dip your toe in the water before diving in. Is your new hobby watercolor painting? Take a class at a local community center before investing in a lifetime supply of paints and canvases. You can always invest later once you know you love it.
Of all the places in the Bible that talk about love, the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians is known as the “love passage.” In it, Paul describes love as patient, kind, not envious or boastful, not proud, rude, self-seeking or easily angered. He says love keeps no record of wrongs, does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. Moreover love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres, and never fails (1 Corinthians 13:4-8). Paul was writing to believers in Corinth, but the Word is speaking to us about loving in this way today.
I was standing by the pickup counter at Panera Bread while the man behind the counter got the next order ready. “HOPE to go!” he shouted. A young woman named Hope stepped forward to claim her bagged food. As she walked past me I said, “Wow. We could all use some hope to go this time of year!” She smiled kindly at the weird older woman in the Christmas sweater and went merrily on her way. But an idea for a blog post was born.
What of us? As we journey toward Christmas we have temporal hope that families will travel safely, that promised gifts will be delivered on time or family conflicts will be resolved. But our hope to go is also eternal hope, an anchor for the soul (Hebrews 6:19).
Here we are in the in between. Thanksgiving is over and Christmas is still a few weeks away. So how are we to spend this tweason if you’ll indulge my coining of that word? How can we hold on to the best of the last holiday while eagerly anticipating the next?
News outlets have been speculating about the October surprise for weeks now. I suppose that traditionally politicians and parties save up their most damning information against their opponents for the weeks before an election in order to sway the vote in their favor. Releasing this too soon and people will forget. Release it too late and many will have already made up their minds or voted early. Thus, the October surprise.
I turned the corner to be overcome by sunlight illuminating the most beautiful row of red maples I’d ever seen. So spectacular was this October afternoon sight that I coerced my husband into going back with me a few days later so I could get a photo before the leaves fell. Still a wow.
Hmmph, I thought. What if I want to be offended? After all, there are so many things in the world right now that I find offensive! Don’t I deserve to be offended? To be hurt and angry even? Hmmph. Then I read the book. Chapter by chapter I felt a shift in my spirit. A shift from blame to forgiveness, from discouragement to hope, from anxiety to peace, from anger to love. I hope this October surprise outlives the month.
In her recent book Waymaker author Ann Voscamp calls the times she goes out to walk in nature her “glory walks,” meaning it’s when she can just bask in the natural beauty of God’s creation and absorb it into her soul. My early morning walks this summer have been just that, so I’m savoring these late summer mornings before the temperature drops and the wind howls.
Suddenly this was beginning to feel more like a pilgrimage than a glory walk, so I wasn’t surprised when on the far side of the lake I encountered a group of young Black men and women playing by the shore with an older dog and a passel of puppies. One young man with dreadlocks to his waist was holding two of the cutest puppies I’ve seen in a long time. I might have nodded and walked on, but then I’m reading Senator Tim Scott’s new book America, A Redemption Story. In it he says if we are ever going to heal the racial or political divides in this country, we can’t depend on the government to do it. We each have to do some small thing to make a difference each and every day.
A needlepoint sampler I inherited was stitched by a great aunt in 1933 and reads, “To a friend’s house the road is never long.” The road my husband and I took from Colorado Springs, CO, to Montrose, CO, to see my friend Betty is 230.9 miles long, the estimated time extended by construction delays in the Black Canyon. It felt long that day. So when we pulled into Betty’s driveway and saw her pretty home with the hanging flower basket and manicured yard, I breathed a sigh of relief. When we stepped inside to be greeted by Betty sitting in her favorite recliner, the road no longer seemed long at all.
When I told Betty that we wanted to stop in to see her and gave her the date she said, “OK, I’ll try to hang on.” We’re so glad she did! It was a joy to just sit and visit about her life, learning things I never gleaned from the warm relationship we’ve developed over email and Facebook these many years. I learned she was born and raised in Holland, MI, and that she and her husband Chet visited Germany, lived in Colorado, New Mexico and Oregon, and wintered in Mexico for years before his death from cancer in 1991. Her family now consists of their four grown children, 10 grandchildren and 21 great-grandchildren. She and her daughter Joanne share the home in Montrose.
My name is Nancy and I’m a coupon clipper. Yes, I admit it. For most of my adult life I’ve been addicted to picking up a pair of scissors and clipping coupons I think I might be able to use from any and all sources. BOGOs are a definite trigger for me (buy one get one free!), so those never go unclipped.