“When they had sung the hymn, 

they went out to the Mount of Olives.”–Mark 14:26

One Sunday morning, early in my pastoral career, while leading worship I became aware of a commotion in the sanctuary. Looking to my left, I saw that an older woman in the congregation named Frances Wright had slumped over. I stopped the service and went to check on her.  By the time I arrived, fellow worshipers had already helped her stretch out on the pew.  Her eyes were open and she was speaking clearly, but still needed medical care, so someone ran out to call for an ambulance. As we waited, I led the congregation in prayer.  When I finished it , the EMTs had not yet arrived and everyone–including that young preacher–was unsure of what to do.  I couldn’t just proceed with the service as if nothing was happening so I turned to the organist and suggested we move to the next hymn scheduled for that service.  It was “Rock of Ages.”

The singing did seem to help the feeling of dis-ease in the room. I was feeling quite pleased with my quick response to the kind of event that had not been covered in my seminary classes. Yet, I quickly came to understand why Scripture (Proverbs 16:18) reminds us how pride goes before the fall.  You should know that Frances spent only a short time in the hospital afterwards before being discharged home, but as we were singing that old hymn at 11:15 on a Sunday morning in 1988, none of us knew what would be the outcome.    

So you can well understand my distress as we finished the third verse of “Rock of Ages” and my eyes moved ahead to the line we were about to sing that begins “While I draw this fleeting breath, When my eyelids close in death…” If I could have stopped the music I would have done so, but it was too late. As the congregation moved forward, the volume of singing dropped noticeably, too. Only then did the ambulance arrive. I returned to her pew as the team quickly got her settled onto the gurney. Just before they began to move, Frances reached into her purse and handed me her offering envelope. The rest of the service unfolded without incident.

Afterwards, several parishioners teased me about my choice of hymns in that moment and all were glad to learn later that she was doing fine. Years afterwards,  a member of that congregation came to worship with my North Carolina parish and took my organist aside after the service. “Be sure to sing ‘Rock of Ages’ soon,” George offered. “It’s John’s favorite hymn!” The reality though is that the feeling evoked by the words of that fourth verse became so burned into my memory, that I never again chose that hymn for a service I led! 

Despite that experience, I have always celebrated the power of hymns, anthems, and other worship songs. They can help us take our place alongside those who have gone before and teach us the basics of faith. They can clarify in a few verses what a 20-minute sermon seeks to say and feed our spirits in ways that words alone cannot do. They can give voice to all that is stirring within and cause us to think back on some previous occasion when we sang those words as well.   

Mark tells us when the disciples finished the meal we call The Last Supper, that they sang the hymn (probably one based on several Psalms) and went out into the night. Given all that happened in the Garden of Gethsemane and in the hours that followed, I’m guessing those men never forgot the events from that Thursday night.  Which ones have that kind of power for you?

Singer in My Soul, I give thanks for the power of compositions put to music. May a favorite one feed me this day in the way I need most of all.  Amen.