Thursday, March 19, 2009

Ancient paths....

"This is what the LORD says: "Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls. But you said, 'We will not walk in it.' -Jeremiah 6:16

One of my hearts desires in planting a church, was to be able to corporately resurrect the dead and invite them back into the life of the community of faith. To sit again at the feet of the masters, hear the ancient poets, minstrels and sages whose paths have been too hidden in these days. I longed to break open the books, journals and writings of faithful men and women who have gone before us on this long and difficult path. There's such a great cloud of witnesses that have both sung and testified, proclaimed and produced some of the best offerings of truth the church has seen or heard.

They are as David called them:" Ancient doors" that need to be opened...or like Jeremiah said: Paths that need to be rediscovered and followed.

I've sought to unearth the great truths of the Reformation in our teaching life as a body, not that the reformers were the pinnacle of thought and theology in my opinion but they are desperately worth reviving and learning from. But there are other voices, eras and teachers and saints that we should hear again.

This is also true of the ancient Bards and Troubadours. It's not as easy to reweave or revisit music from past eras...but it can be done and we are prayerfully and honestly seeking how to reconnect with the Old as well as the New wine in worship, practice and truth.

This article is a great discussion about Worship if that is one of your passions and call.

One of my favorite Hymns is O Sacred Head, now Wounded" and Fernando Ortega's version strikes me in deep places and evokes wonder and worship. Check out his 'Beginning's" hymn collection if you desire some rich music.

O sacred Head, now wounded,
With grief and shame weighed down,
Now scornfully surrounded
With thorns, Thine only crown
How pale thou art with anguish,
with sore abuse and scorn!
How doth Thy visage languish
which once was bright as morn!

What Thou, my Lord, hast suffered,
T'was all for sinners' gain;
Mine, mine was the transgression,
But Thine the deadly pain.
Lo, here I fall, my Savior!
'Tis I deserve Thy place;
Look on me with Thy favor,
Vouchsafe to me Thy grace.

What language shall I borrow
To thank Thee, dearest friend,
For this Thy dying sorrow,
Thy pity without end?
O make me Thine forever,
And should I fainting be,
Lord, let me never, never
Outlive my love for Thee.
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