Symbols…
Have you noticed the lone guitar… poised in front of the drums?
Only once in a blue moon does a hand reach out to strum the strings. Most Sundays, the instrument stands silent, as if sentinel over those who gather for worship. But for those of us who loved Joe Scollins… for those of us who knew him… for those of us who were inspired by his passion for worship… for those of us who were touched by his contagious desire to know Jesus more and more… that guitar rings. It brings back memories of Joe’s old-school rock vibe that stirred up our Lenape Valley worship. His gravelly voice brought heart to songs that were once just pretty tunes. I remember Joe and Kristin sharing There Was Jesus… Joe on the guitar with Kristin singing the Dolly Parton harmonies. Their rendition had an earthy quality, a bit different from the Zach Williams’ radio version. If you knew Joe’s story, the lyrics were personal…
Only once in a blue moon does a hand reach out to strum the strings. Most Sundays, the instrument stands silent, as if sentinel over those who gather for worship. But for those of us who loved Joe Scollins… for those of us who knew him… for those of us who were inspired by his passion for worship… for those of us who were touched by his contagious desire to know Jesus more and more… that guitar rings. It brings back memories of Joe’s old-school rock vibe that stirred up our Lenape Valley worship. His gravelly voice brought heart to songs that were once just pretty tunes. I remember Joe and Kristin sharing There Was Jesus… Joe on the guitar with Kristin singing the Dolly Parton harmonies. Their rendition had an earthy quality, a bit different from the Zach Williams’ radio version. If you knew Joe’s story, the lyrics were personal…
In the waiting, in the searching
In the healing and the hurting
Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces
Every minute, every moment
Where I've been and where I'm going
Even when I didn't know it or couldn't see it
There was Jesus
In the healing and the hurting
Like a blessing buried in the broken pieces
Every minute, every moment
Where I've been and where I'm going
Even when I didn't know it or couldn't see it
There was Jesus
Even now, I remember the tears that came as those words spoke to my heart. There were many songs in the few years that Joe shared with us; perhaps none more moving than when Joe sang Weary Traveler while he valiantly battled pancreatic cancer. Every Sunday, that guitar marks a journey shared and a brother missed… it stands as a symbol- a reminder of lessons learned together.
That’s what symbols do… or at least that is what a good symbol should do… they remind us of what we forget in the busyness of the day. We need symbols to call us back, to keep in mind and heart what is important while we get swept along by the urgent. A symbol hangs around my neck. I rarely take it off. I have worn this cross since the turn of the millennium. It has no monetary value- purchased at K-Mart by my then 8-year-old son with his allowance money. But this cross is infinitely valuable to me. It reminds me of the simple, sweet love shared by mother and son before teenage angst complicated the dynamic. Even more, this cross reminds me of the sweet, sacrificial love of my Savior, who chose the cross for my sake. My cross is pretty, but His was a blood stained horror. My cross is light, but His was so heavy he fell under the weight. My cross brings joy. His cross caused agony beyond measure. My cross- a remembrance… His cross- the salvation of the world. I need the symbol lest I forget for even one moment the price He paid for my life.
Tomorrow night, we will begin the Lenten season with another symbol as old as the pages of our sacred scriptures. This symbol will mark the beginning of our 40-day journey that will bring us finally to the table, to the cross, and by God’s grace to an empty tomb. But before we can celebrate the resurrection, we must remember our desperate need for that healing grace. Thus, the ashes… For thousands of years, God’s people have borne the mark of ash to signify repentance. That mark is the declaration- “I am a sinner in need of redeeming.” Such a declaration flies in the face of our modern culture. We are taught by our society that we are basically ‘good’ people… that sin is an outdated notion. We don’t sin; we just make mistakes every once in a while… doesn’t everyone?... just the occasional oops, that is irrelevant in the whole scheme of things. But truth be told, our occasional oops causes hurt and creates divides that require intentional work to heal. Repentance is the pathway to that healing. Before we can know God’s healing grace, we must admit our desperate need for that forgiveness.
Come… share in the meditative beginning of our Lenten journey. Hear the strains of Just as I am as you come forward. Feel the cross etched in ash across your forehead. Write your sin on a palm saved from last year’s hosanna celebrations. Allow that sin to be washed away by a grace that cost Jesus everything. Simple symbols that will remind heart and mind of what we often forget in the busyness of the day. As the late Tim Keller was oft to say: We are more sinful than we dare to admit… and more loved than we can even imagine.
With you marked by an ashen cross,
Anita
That’s what symbols do… or at least that is what a good symbol should do… they remind us of what we forget in the busyness of the day. We need symbols to call us back, to keep in mind and heart what is important while we get swept along by the urgent. A symbol hangs around my neck. I rarely take it off. I have worn this cross since the turn of the millennium. It has no monetary value- purchased at K-Mart by my then 8-year-old son with his allowance money. But this cross is infinitely valuable to me. It reminds me of the simple, sweet love shared by mother and son before teenage angst complicated the dynamic. Even more, this cross reminds me of the sweet, sacrificial love of my Savior, who chose the cross for my sake. My cross is pretty, but His was a blood stained horror. My cross is light, but His was so heavy he fell under the weight. My cross brings joy. His cross caused agony beyond measure. My cross- a remembrance… His cross- the salvation of the world. I need the symbol lest I forget for even one moment the price He paid for my life.
Tomorrow night, we will begin the Lenten season with another symbol as old as the pages of our sacred scriptures. This symbol will mark the beginning of our 40-day journey that will bring us finally to the table, to the cross, and by God’s grace to an empty tomb. But before we can celebrate the resurrection, we must remember our desperate need for that healing grace. Thus, the ashes… For thousands of years, God’s people have borne the mark of ash to signify repentance. That mark is the declaration- “I am a sinner in need of redeeming.” Such a declaration flies in the face of our modern culture. We are taught by our society that we are basically ‘good’ people… that sin is an outdated notion. We don’t sin; we just make mistakes every once in a while… doesn’t everyone?... just the occasional oops, that is irrelevant in the whole scheme of things. But truth be told, our occasional oops causes hurt and creates divides that require intentional work to heal. Repentance is the pathway to that healing. Before we can know God’s healing grace, we must admit our desperate need for that forgiveness.
Come… share in the meditative beginning of our Lenten journey. Hear the strains of Just as I am as you come forward. Feel the cross etched in ash across your forehead. Write your sin on a palm saved from last year’s hosanna celebrations. Allow that sin to be washed away by a grace that cost Jesus everything. Simple symbols that will remind heart and mind of what we often forget in the busyness of the day. As the late Tim Keller was oft to say: We are more sinful than we dare to admit… and more loved than we can even imagine.
With you marked by an ashen cross,
Anita
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