Friday, June 14, 2013

The value of a little liturgy

I didn't set out to be liturgical.

I had some exposure to liturgical worship growing up, but it never really resonated with me outside of brief stint I had with some lovely Lutherans in Ohio.

But the other day I realized I have somewhat stumbled upon it again in my own life.

Each night when I put my girls to bed, we sing the old spiritual, "His eye is on the sparrow".

And in a sense, after 5 years, it's become a small liturgical element in my life. A rhythym that draws my attention back to this important reality. The words (by Civilla Martin) are as follows:

Why should I feel discouraged?
Why should the shadows come?
Why should my heart feel lonely, and long for heaven and home?
When Jesus is my portion, a constant friend is He
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know he watches me.

I sing because I'm happy.
I sing because I'm free.
His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I've sung this song literally over a thousand times now - which probably means I've sung it more than any other song, even more than the Christmas carols or Happy Birthday.

I've sung it at some pretty hard times. I remember trying to sing it all the way through, just a couple of hours after my mother-in-law had died. I remember trying to sing it when my dad seemed on death's doorstep.  I remember singing it on nights when my failures as a parent were very evident to me.  I remember singing it to kids with high fevers that just wouldn't seem to go away.

And recently, in the midst of a bitter disappointment in my life, I sang it as per my nightly routine to my oldest daughter, who has now heard it over a thousand times. It's the kind of perspective I seem to need on a daily basis. I need the structure of an accidental liturgy to remind me that Jesus is present with us in the midst of our suffering, our failures, our losses, our disappointments, or our fears. He is not a distant God who is angry, or punitive, or far away from our circumstances. He is our "constant friend", and what I need are practices, or liturgies that remind of His constancy, constantly, or else I'm prone to lose track of this truth that changes everything.