Never Said a Mumblin’ Word

Word-art from the great website eyekons.com

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth. – Isaiah 53:7

 

They crucified my Lord

They nailed him to a tree

They pierced him in the side

The blood came tricklin’ down

He bowed his head and died

And He never said a mumbalin’ word

Not a word, not a word, not a word…

 

In Phillip Keller’s book A Shepherd Looks at the Lamb of God, he describes a sheep being shorn:

Sheep hate to be sheared. They are terror-stricken but silent in their fear and apprehension of the ordeal. When taken in hand, they rigidly stiffen their bodies, arch their necks, then bury their heads in the midriff of the one who bends over to shear them.

It’s hard to imagine Jesus being afraid and yet he was fully human as much as he was fully divine. The night before Good Friday he had prayed that this fate would be taken from him – prayed until he sweat drops of blood. I bet there was some fear there; the fear of being fully divine and yet bearing the weight of human sin.

Friedrich Peter’s the Suffering Servant

And then it all happened: betrayed by his friend, taken before the priests, then Herod, then Pilate. All of them asking questions and Jesus said so little, didn’t defend himself. They tortured him, beat him, rammed a crown of thorns on his head, and nailed his body to a tree and he didn’t defend himself.. He didn’t say “you’re gonna regret this.” He didn’t call down fire from heaven to swallow them all up. He didn’t use his divine power to exact revenge on those who wrongly accused and tortured his human body. Instead, he bowed his head and died and he never said a mumblin’ word.

This song originates back to the days when the U.S. endorsed slavery. Like so many African American spirituals – it tells two stories at once: that of Jesus and that of the slave experience. Crucifixion wasn’t exactly the preferred form of punishment for slaves but it’s no secret that slaves were treated cruelly and unjustly. They had no voice. How strongly they must have identified with Jesus, who was treated the same way, but never said a mumblin’ word.

In re-envisioning this song for our service, Daniel Wagner, gives it a groove and always comes back with that tag: he never said a mumblin’ word, a constant reminder that Jesus bore injustice in silence, knowing there was a greater purpose for his death.

How do you respond to Jesus silence in the face of death?

On Jordan’s Stormy Banks

St. Boniface Kirk, Papa Westray, Scotland. Photo by Douglas Hourston

Truly, I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise… – Jesus words to the thief on the cross.

 

On Jordan’s stormy banks I stand
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan’s fair and happy land
Where my possessions lie

I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promise Land…

Death has been a close companion to me in the last 6 months. My dad died in October. He would have been 84 in December and I’d love to tell you that he lived a long and healthy life but that would be lying. Long yes, healthy no. My dad’s youth had been a difficult one – fleeing violence and turmoil in Ukraine during WW2, being drafted into and then running away from the Hitler Jugend in Germany, then, when the war was finally over, starting a new but difficult life in South America. Dad never got over the trauma he experienced and he treated himself with years of alcohol abuse as he tried to out–pace the inner-demons that would chase him his whole life. When his end came, he was ready to go and was surrounded by his wife, his children and grandchildren – all there because we loved him. I miss him a lot.

me, dad, my sister, Benita, about a year and a half before dad died.

Last week, 3 of my friends said goodbye to their parents. All of them elderly, all of them in ill-health, all dearly loved and missed. Even though their lives were long and full –it’s hard to say goodbye and I know that my friends are now joining me on a journey of grieving.
We heard this song at Dad’s memorial service as we watched slides of his life. Dad had a difficult relationship with the church, where he felt judged and unwelcome but he told me on many occasions that he believed that there was a God up there somewhere. On the day before he died, he told me he was ready to go and I believe he was.

No chilling wind nor poisonous breath
Can reach that healthful shore
Where sickness, sorrow, pain and death
Are felt and feared no more

I am bound, I am bound, I am bound for the Promise Land…

Shortly after Dad’s death, I was in a worship service and had a vision of Dad in his Lazy Boy, sitting beside Jesus, and the two of them clapping their hands and enjoying the music. Given that he lived in hell for most of his life, it gave me great joy to think of him there, free from pain and death and fear… he looked so happy.

When my son suggested we sing this song at the Good Friday Blues service, I smiled and thought “yes.” Unlike the other songs we’ll hear at these services, this one is not a story-telling song, it does not dwell on the events of Jesus’ crucifixion and death but it is a song that expresses a deep longing. We are here now, on those stormy banks and looking across the river to the other side, where Jesus promised we’d see him. The fact that someone I love has crossed over that river already, makes the longing even greater… but this song gives me joy and comfort. I hope it will be so for you when you hear it too.

Good Friday Blues 3.0 – Love Comes Down

Well, we’re back! And we’re really excited to be in rehearsals again for this year’s Good Friday Blues Services.

As we began preparing for this year (literally, the day after last year’s services were done) we kept coming back to this word: LOVE.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son.”

“And this is love: that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us.”

“This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him.”

“This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.”

These are some of the thoughts that inform and infuse the songs we’ve chosen for the service this year. There’s blistering rock/blues tunes, thoughtful meditative blues tunes, old time blues, new time blues – all blues… songs that speak from a place of conviction, deep within. We’ll have prayers and readings, poetry and art and you’ll have a chance to nail your blues to the cross. Each Friday during Lent, I’ll blog about some of the tunes we’re doing. I hope you’ll join us on this journey of meditation.

Here’s how you can help us:

1. Pray with us. Pray for us as we rehearse that we’ll be diligent, creative, patient and passionate. Pray that we’ll stay healthy. Pray for the services – that God will meet each of us there, that the Holy Spirit will guide us in our worship, that the Christ will be glorified by all that’s said and sung.
2. Come! And bring a friend! The $5 that you spend on your ticket will go to support Cyrus Centre – a ministry for street-entrenched youth in the Fraser Valley (none of the band members get paid for this gig.)
3. If you cannot come, consider making a donation to Cyrus Centre. Their unique work is greatly needed and they don’t get one penny of government funding. It’s worth our support!

This year’s event will be held Maundy Thursday April 17^th and Good Friday April 18^th at 7:30 both evenings. Tickets are $5 and are available at the House of James – they sell fast, so get yours early and don’t be disappointed!

A Storm Blue In!

The Good Friday Blues Band – (L-R) La Vern Klassen, Daniel Wagner, Angelika Dawson, Aaron Dawson, Dave Dueckman, Byron Wiebe – hidden behind the drum set: Steve Dahl

WELL. Turns out our expectations were exceeded again. Over 200 people came to the two services and they gave generously so that we could bring in over  $1000 for Cyrus Centre. WOW! You clapped, you sang, you meditated, you laughed, you cried, you listened and you encouraged us. We are grateful for all these things. Above all, we give thanks to God for gifts to use, for generous community, for Jesus who died and rose again – worship was the whole reason for doing this.

My friend Kevin Jeske took some amazing photos on Friday evening. If you couldn’t make it out – here’s a taste and if you were there – here’s memory lane.

mom and son.

 

Byron Wiebe workin’ his magic on the guitar

 

Daniel works some magic too!

 

it was also fun to interact with the audience as Daniel was doing here. lots of energy in the room!

 

La Vern and Byron’s rendition of Calvary was a highlight each evening

 

Julie Dunster was our amazing sound person. Also, she has awesome hair.

 

Dave Dueckman gettin’ his groove on.

 

Steve Dahl meditating behind the drum kit.

 

John Dawson delivered that “kickass” sermon – Storm’ Comin’!

 

This is Lando Klassen. Aside from having the coolest name ever, he also owns House of James and is dedicated to opening his space for events like this. It really was a gift to us.

 

Crowded House!!

 

Love this creative shot

 

When those lights flash – hear that thunder roar!

 

Love it that the loudest acoustic instrument in the room is also the one that proclaims PEACE.

 

People nailed their blues to the cross (which we took home and burned later, so they are totally private) It was moving to see the cross fill up with concerns and cares and people nailed them and left them there. It was a moving experience!

 

Finally, we want to give thanks again: to Lando Klassen for allowing us to use his  space at House of James for this purpose. For his staff who came in on Thursday and Good Friday to serve those there. For Julie for being an awesome sound person. For Art Janzen, Marlene Friesen and Rod and Becky Wiebe who interacted with folks at the cross and prayed with those who asked for prayer. For Olivia Sharpe (not pictured, sadly) whose moving spoken word piece brought us into the heart of the thief on the cross. For  John Dawson and his sermon which reminded us that there is nothing that can separate us from the hurricane that is God’s love. For Kevin Jeske, who took these great pics. For you – all of you who came, who put posters up in your places of business, who helped us advertise by word of mouth, who bought tickets (especially those of you who bought tickets and gave them away because you couldn’t be there yourself) and helped us raise funds for Cyrus Centre, which is such an awesome ministry. Thanks be to God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello Hurricane

Hello hurricane

You’re not enough

Hello hurricane

You can’t silence my love

I’ve got doors and windows

Boarded up

All your dead-end fury is

Not enough

You can’t silence my love…

 

For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. – Romans 8:38-39

We believe that Jesus was fully human/fully divine – the Son of God, the Son of Man – and I believe that he experienced this dichotomy most fully on Good Friday. Not only did he as a human have to endure a most horrible death, he also had to take the weight of humanity’s sin on his innocent shoulders. Talk about enduring a storm.

And yet, love could not be silenced. Nothing can separate us from the love of God, which is IN Jesus, Jesus who demonstrated God’s love by dying for us while we were yet sinners.

This song, indeed Switchfoot’s whole album of this title, was written with these themes in mind. The lyrics for the song came after the band worked with Habitat for Humanity to build a home for a woman who had to rebuild her life after Hurricane Katrina. In an article in The Examiner, lead singer Jon Forman said:

The hurricane had taken her city, her house, and her leg. As she relocated to Baton Rouge and learned how to walk as an amputee, her mantra was this: “I walked out of my house and my life in New Orleans on my own legs, I’m going to walk into this one the same way.” This is the spirit that I wanted to capture with this song, and moreover with this record. The storms of life might take my house, my loved ones, or even my life- but they cannot silence my love.

Our services begin with a song that speaks to the idea of embracing the storms of life,  – “When that love comes open up your door and let it in” – the idea that we cannot run away, so we face our storms, we choose hope, we know that we are in the hands of God who loves us deeply. It ends with this song, an expression of defiance in the face of storms: I’ve got my doors and windows boarded up, nothing will shake me from my foundation which is Jesus – BRING IT ON!

I’ve had to face a few storms in my own life, the worst of which were the deaths of two of my children. My testimony is this: I could not have endured those storms without God. In the raging storm of my grief, God whispered to me: I know what it is that you feel, I know what it is to lose a child. It was not a minimization of my loss, it was an acknowledgement, which was what I needed. And with that acknowledgement came a depth of love and care that I had never before experienced. God’s love could not be silenced not even by my own dead-end fury, not even by death. I hope that I’ve learned to be loud and expansive with God’s love as a result of that – as loud and expansive as this song.

How do you relate to the words of this song?

It is well with my soul

When peace like a river attendeth my way

When sorrows like sea billows roll

Whatever my loss, You have taught me to say

It is well, it is well with my soul….

In 1873, Horatio Gates Spafford’s wife and four daughters sailed on the steamship Ville du Favre for France, while Spafford finished up some business details in Chicago before joining them. In mid-ocean the vessel struck a large sailing ship and sank within half an hour. Many perished, including the four girls, but Mrs. Spafford was rescued. She cabled the message “saved alone” to her husband who then sailed for Liverpool to accompany his wife back to Chicago. Some say he wrote this hymn when their ship passed the place where their daughters died.

This may be one of the most tragic stories in hymnody. You can imagine a father grieving the loss of all his children, sailing across that very spot and writing those lines when sorrows like sea billows roll. Indeed. But to get from that line to it is well with my soul? Wow. Only a deep, unsinkable faith can come up with words like that and really mean it.

It’s interesting that in his grief, Spafford turned to Jesus on the cross.

Though the devil will ruin, though trials may come

Let this blessed assurance control

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate

And He shed His own blood for my soul

He talks further about his sin being nailed to the cross, saying that he bears it no more. When you attend the Good Friday Blues services, you’ll have an opportunity to nail your “blues” to the cross. We’ll have a cross there along with blue slips of paper, hammer and nails. Whatever makes you blue – sin, grief, sorrow, hardship, trial, personal events or the sad circumstances of others – you can nail them to that cross and bear them no more. Hopefully it will be an opportunity for you to say “it is well with my soul.

The melody – written by Philip Paul Bliss – is named “Ville du Havre”, after the steamship. It is also frequently known by the tune name “It Is Well.” We’re not singing that melody. We are singing the Jars of Clay version of this song, which is an interesting melodic interpretation of it. When you hear the hymn sung in church, it is usually thought of a mournful song. The refrain “it is well with my soul” always starts quietly but then swells to majestic heights as the author defies grief and proclaims “it IS well”. It’s pretty powerful. The Jars of Clay writers decided to give the whole song an upbeat interpretation (reminds me of the Monkees tune Last Train to Clarksville) that focuses less on the grief and more on the joy of what was accomplished on the cross and what is to come when Jesus comes again.

When you think of the trials in your own life, how do you relate to the words of this song? Does it give you comfort?

Someday

 

Golgotha, by Scottish artist David Mach.

Someday, I will go home

Someday I will go home
And I’ll find peace in the house
Of my heavenly father
I will fear, fear no more

 

Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom – thief on the cross, Luke 23:42

I’ve sometimes wondered what I would do if I was on death row and facing execution. Would I be terrified? Resigned to my fate? Would I beg for mercy until the bitter end or just try to be dignified about it all? Assuming that I was actually guilty of something heinous enough to merit execution, I think I’d probably be terrified but also resigned. Hopefully I’ll never know.

Pondering execution today and reflecting on execution in Jesus’ day, I realize that there’s actually no comparison. As terrifying as it may be to go to the electric chair, I don’t think it compares to crucifixion. You’re not only assured of your death, but you’re assured that it’s going to be excruciatingly painful, unbearably slow and on top of everything else, utterly humiliating. Crucifixion is holistic death: body, mind and soul.

Given all of that, consider the two thieves on the cross. One is described as hurling insults at him: Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us! (It actually sounds more to me like a final desperate plea rather than a sarcastic insult). The other seems to have accepted his fate and actually has the wherewithal to admonish his fellow criminal: Don’t you fear God? We deserve this shit, but this man has done nothing wrong.

Not only does he recognize his guilt and accept his punishment, he can actually see that Jesus is innocent. How did he know that? And not only that, he also recognizes that Jesus is more than a mere innocent man – remember me when you come into your kingdom – he sees Jesus for who he really is: the King. Jesus responds with a gift: I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise. It occurs to me that Jesus’ response to this man must have changed the outlook of the thief’s death. If he did not have peace of body, perhaps he had peace of mind and soul.

I know down in my heart
I know it won’t be long
And I shall see the face
Of my Saviour
I will fear, I will fear
I will fear, pain no more

This song, written by David Hidalgo and Louis Perez of Los Lobos for the movie Love Song for Bobby Long, seems to me to be the song that was in the heart of this penitent thief. He was given the promise of his Saviour, that paradise was coming – soon – and pain would be gone. My prayer is that someday, I too will go home and be able to take the hand of my Saviour and experience a pain-free eternity.

Someday, I will go home
Someday, I will go home
And I shall take the hand
Of my Saviour
I will fear, I will fear
I will fear, pain no more

If you have a moment, visit artist David Mach’s website and watch the short video clip of him burning the devil. very cool.

Calvary

Calvary, Calvary

Surely he died on Calvary

 

Every time I think about Jesus, surely he died on Calvary…

Don’t you hear the hammer ringing? surely he died on Calvary…

Don’t you hear him calling his father? surely he died on Calvary…

Don’t you hear him say “It is finished”? surely he died on Calvary…

Jesus furnished my salvation… surely he died on Calvary…

Sinner, do you love my Jesus? surely he died on Calvary…

 

This is a song made for weeping and mourning. It is raw with feeling and the up and down nature of the melody is an apt reflection of the roller-coaster of emotions that one might have as one ponders the things that happened on Calvary. Clearly, this was written by a person with a vivid imagination, who has placed herself in the scene at the cross and comes through that meditation with the firm conviction – surely – that Jesus died on Calvary.

 

Listen, can you hear the hammer ringing on the nails as they pound them into Jesus’ flesh?

 

Listen, can you hear him calling – My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me? Does it make your heart break to hear it?

 

Listen, what is he saying? He’s saying “It’s finished.” What’s finished? Oh… that. That! Jesus furnished my salvation!

 

Hey you! Sinner! Do you love my Jesus? Because I sure do. How can I not love him?  Because while I was yet a sinner, he died – a horrible, lonely death – for me. That’s love, people.

 

One of my favourite recordings of this song is done by Mahalia Jackson. That woman defines soul. We used her recording for inspiration as we prepared for this one. It will have that same, lonely, aching quality to it when you hear it on Good Friday. I hope you’ll be moved to the same conviction that Jesus died for you and me. Surely.

If you build it…

Well, you came. In droves. Oh. My. Gosh!! We couldn’t believe how many folks turned out to the Good Friday Blues service yesterday – in fact, we had to turn scores of people away because the room simply could not hold any more people. For that we are truly sorry!  But we are also truly grateful that so many of you came out. Thank you so much!

Thank you again to Lando for opening up that space for us. You are a gift to our community, Lando. Thanks to your staff for being there and serving.

Thanks to Darryl Klassen for being our sound man extraordinaire – a talented and calm presence: two awesome characteristics in a sound man.

Thank you to Rod Wiebe and Marlene Friesen, for being supportive people at the cross as people came and nailed their blues to it.

Thank you to Hailey Kathler and Danielle Warmenhoven and Gareth and Adriel Brandt for reading scripture and our call to confession and words of assurance.

Thank you to John Dawson for preaching the “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s comin’” in true Campolo style.

Thanks to Egon Warkentin, my creative brother-in-law, who took these great photos of the evening.

We’re already talking about next year, two shows to accommodate more people. Today in the car I was listening to Tracy Chapman’s “Say it” and thinking, this would be a perfect song to sing with a reading about the Garden of Gesthemane… could happen, folks…

People Get Ready

Jesus took the twelve disciples aside and said to them, “We are going up to Jerusalem and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and the teachers of the law. They will condemn him to death and will turn him over to the Gentiles to be mocked and flogged and crucified. On the third day…  Matthew 20:17-19

 

Today’s the day: Good Friday. Good, because on this day, Jesus  – Son of God, Son of Man – had the courage to do what was asked of him and let them nail him to a cross, pierce his hands and feet, break his heart…

Try as I might, I just cannot imagine being one of the disciples and having to watch that happen. To be his mother and finally know what Simeon meant when he said “a sword will pierce your side also” – I’m sure that’s what she felt as she watched her firstborn suffer.  When you read Jesus’ own words, it just sounds so matter-of-fact; oh, by the way, this is what’s gonna happen when we get to Jerusalem… and then it really happened! Everything he said! The hand-over, the mocking, the flogging, the betrayal, the denial… all of it. He gave them lots of warning: Get Ready. It’s Coming.

People get ready
There’s a train, it’s coming
You don’t need no baggage
You just get on board
All you need is faith
To hear the diesels humming
Don’t need no ticket, no
You just thank the Lord

This will be the song that closes the service tonight. After we’ve heard  the “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s Comin’” sermon, the words of Curtis Mayfield’s much-loved, much-recorded song will bring it home. Yes, it’s Friday and it all seems unbelievably, overwhelmingly wrong – but have faith, give thanks because People! Get Ready: Sunday’s comin’.

Thanks for following this journey so far. Hope to see you all tonight: 7 pm at House of James.