He is worthy - PT375
I remember my house being filled with music—an organ sat by our front door. A piano against a wall, both overwhelmed the room. My dad was a band director. A choir director. My mother was his favorite soprano. His best friends played the organ and piano; duets were played every time one visited. Songs filled the house, most of which were traditional old church hymns.
When two parents are gifted musicians, one would expect their children to be also. However, in the case of my brother and I, mom and dad’s talents seem to have cancelled ours out. We both played instruments in our father’s bands but abandoned them before graduation, and neither of us can sing in tune, so he never invited us into the choir.
But, we do love music. Our parents taught us that. Taught me that. Something remarkable happens when a song or a hymn connects to your inner self. It creates an emotional response like a catch in your breath or a tear manifesting in the corner of your eye. Memories lock in of where you were or what you were doing the first time you heard it. When it plays, you stop mid-action and have an impromptu concert, a full-body experience - or is that just a Kim thing?
My dad knew everyone in our hometown because of his work and a gregarious personality that drew people to him like bees to honey. Consequently, he could gather the best voices from all the churches around our little city and pull them together for an Easter concert – a cantata, he always corrected. It is one of the few memories this old brain can remember. Nights when our small church was alive with song while teenage kids came and went. There were no cell phones back then, but we always knew where mom or dad were weeks before Easter, and we popped in and out to update them of where and when we were going. I was sometimes called to stay behind as a stand-in narrator until Mrs. Holt, my English teacher, finished grading papers or some other school activity. The price paid for being the preacher’s kid.
Our sanctuary, usually filled with only four or five families, would have friends in every seat to experience the worship events of Easter weekend. For me, Easter was all about the music and preparation for telling the story of the crucifixion and the empty tomb.
Now that I am older, Easter brings me a touch of mommy regret. Alex is 22 years old, and I have basically denied her of the traditional bunny gifts and open-field fun—a fact she shares with many of her friends.
“Yeah, my Mom never gave me any baskets. We never hunted eggs,” she tells them.
“That’s not what it’s about,” I always reply in defense.
Truth be told, I tried a couple of times to make the experience happen for her, but I have no memories of Easter eggs, chocolate candies, or white stuffed bunnies. I remember old school cantatas, sung by town folk, who gathered weeks ahead to practice after work and before dinner. There was no praise and worship choir. No future American Idols, just my mom, my teachers, and the parents of my friends. They gathered to create a town-centered worship service about a man who took the beating. Who walked the walk. Who hung on a cross to carry away all our sins, those done and those to come.
So, it was and still is hard for me to do the bunny side of Easter. And, if my A is reading this, I am sorry. Those gifts, those treats are fun. Joy is brought to little ones, and I never understood why I didn’t do it. I fully embrace Christmas with Santa as part of the birth of Christ celebration. But the bunny never came to mind in time to put something out. So, Alex, that is why. I never thought about it.
Since my father’s passing, nearly 34 years ago, my church going has wavered – absent for a decade at one point. It is hard to find a connection to a religious ideology when your family church hopped. Only when he became a pastor to our little church in our little town did we settle in. My faith isn’t rooted in a building but in a relationship, and I feel that connection when I hear music. It is a thread sewn into me. I worship in song. I pray in song, and when I share a song, it is a letter from me to you performed by someone God graced with talent and words.
For this Wednesday of Holy Week, again, instead of eggs and candy, I offer a song. One that has been knitted into me. When it plays, all that sits between Christ and me fades away, and there He is, as real and present as any loved one that now is only a memory.
Of all the holidays I celebrate, this one is the most sobering. A man sacrificed His life for me - for us - for you. And it is the most joyful! Because of His loving, giving, and unselfish act, we have peace, a reprieve, a haven, and a promised future.
Easter reminds me of both my fathers. The one who modeled music as worship and imprinted Easter upon me with it. And the other, in human form, who sacrificed for me. The one worthy of my trust, worthy of my belief, and worthy of my praise. I know Him, and I am thankful.
Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”
John 11:25-26 (ESV)
Stop for four minutes and thirty-one seconds.
Play this song on one of the links below. It is by Chris Tomlin, “Is He Worthy?”
If you know the Lord, dial in. If you're curious about Him, listen in. If you know but are somewhat lax, lean in. Life is better with Him, and this upcoming weekend, ponder what was done for us - what He did. We live in a supernatural world, and Jesus is the way to the Almighty.
Have a beautiful, spiritual, and Happy Easter.
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Ponder This Challenge – I recently read Lee Strobel’s” Is God Real – Exploring the Ultimate Question of Life.” It’s a great read. Perhaps, read it too? It’s analytical and historical in its presentation of data, offering a pragmatic view of the evidence supporting the resurrection of Christ.
Until my next post.
Always - be safe, stay kind, show grace, and pray. Know this - the world and all that is in it sit in the hands of God.
PS - thank you, Lord, for the words today.
This is a reminder that Ponder This comes out on Wednesday mornings. Look for us in your inbox or on the Substack App. And remember:
“Pondering is everything, and everything is worth pondering.” - Kim Knights
This brought many memories back from days gone by, both from my childhood as well as that of my children. I relived the holidays and church activities once again, remembering the songs and the Heavenly Father who loves us so. The song you shared is relatively new to me, and it is breathtakingly beautiful. I remember the first time I heard it brought tears to my eyes.
Thanks Kim, for a walk backwards that brought me such forward joy.
"If you know the Lord, dial in. If you're curious about Him, listen in. If you know but are somewhat lax, lean in. Life is better with Him, and this upcoming weekend, ponder what was done for us - what He did. We live in a supernatural world, and Jesus is the way to the Almighty."
What a great ending and invitation (the above paragraph by Kim), and an awesome read that I think anyone can find a piece of themselves in.. Thanks for sharing part of your life Kim..
so that some of us could take a moment to reflect on ours..