If our prayers were hooked up to a polygraph during certain seasons of our lives, we’d be revealed as liars.
Christmas is the season of singing. The angels sang at our Lord's birth. Mary sang when the Lord was in her womb. The church cannot stop singing of the joy of the Incarnation. Here is another hymn to add to the long list of poetry focused on Emmanuel.
The choir of angels can’t be credited with the first Christmas hymn. Nor was it a lullaby the virgin cooed to her swaddled infant. You have to go much father back.
One of these days, when the people gathered around the casket will be my own family and friends, I hope they bring their singing voices with them. Because there’ll be music at my funeral. Lots of it.
Animals have been used in warfare from ancient days. Horses pulled chariots and bore soldiers into the thick of the fight. Warriors sat astride camels in the sands of the Near East. The Soviets even trained dogs to carry bombs that demolished German tanks. The Greeks warriors under Alexander the Great rode elephants into combat. Pigeons winged secret messages through the sky. Mules tugged war wagons.
The account of our Lord's Transfiguration is a narrative that has long captivated my interest, especially because it incorporates so much Old Testament imagery. Here are three hymns that I've written on this revelation of our Lord's glory.
If you like the wide open spaces of Nebraska, you probably don’t like the situations in which God often places you. For he hems you in on every side, presses you between a rock and a hard place, so that there seems no way out.