I've had some blessed conversations, both
public and private, over the past few weeks, and I need to be a bit more disciplined about writing things down. It's a busy season, despite the 90+ degree July heat, and the words of "
For All the Saints" have been a continual encouragement. A couple verses that seem appropriate for summer's fits and starts:
The golden evening
brightens in the west;
Soon, soon to faithful
warriors comes their rest;
Sweet is the calm
of paradise the blessed.
Alleluia, Allelu...
But lo! There breaks
a yet more glorious day;
The saints triumphant
rise in bright array;
The King of glory
passes on his way,
Alleluia, Allelu...
This hymn reminds me of the powerful imagery in Over the Rhine's "The Trumpet Child" (lyrics below) and the complete totality of the eschaton. Our pastor has been
preaching in Romans and encouraging us to remember that "the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God." Our adoption as sons means the "redemption of our bodies" (
Romans 8:18-25). Amen.
The Trumpet Child
The trumpet child will blow his horn
Will blast the sky till it’s reborn
With Gabriel’s power and Satchmo’s grace
He will surprise the human race
The trumpet he will use to blow
Is being fashioned out of fire
The mouthpiece is a glowing coal
The bell a burst of wild desire
The trumpet child will riff on love
Thelonious notes from up above
He’ll improvise a kingdom come
Accompanied by a different drum
The trumpet child will banquet here
Until the lost are truly found
A thousand days, a thousand years
Nobody knows for sure how long
The rich forget about their gold
The meek and mild are strangely bold
A lion lies beside a lamb
And licks a murderer’s outstretched hand
The trumpet child will lift a glass
His bride now leaning in at last
His final aim to fill with joy
The earth that man all but destroyed
Last Saturday we attended the National Symphony Orchestra’s season opening concert at the Kennedy Center. There is something so grand about entering the hall of flags and mingling on the patio that overlooks the Potomac. The program included pieces by Johann Strauss, Jr., Richard Strauss, and Liszt and featured performances by Renee Fleming and Lang Lang. Fleming performed Richard Strauss’ “Four Last Songs.” The lines from “September” seem à propos for this season and a fitting tribute to my abandoned vegetable garden: