"Let it be ratified in heaven"

(photo at left of the Covenant Prayer, Wesley Memorial Church, Oxford)

Small, hard-working, and energetic, John Wesley was a lot like a bee; he selectively sampled different theological "flowers" to extract the best nectar which he then combined to produce his own brand of golden theological honey. (If anyone reading this is an expert on beekeeping, please excuse any errors in apiculture and just go with my metaphor. Likewise, if you are of a different theological bent, if you think Wesley's efforts were pure dross, keep that to yourself.)

In 1753, as one of the volumes of his Christian Library, Wesley re-published Richard Alleine's Vindiciae Pietatis, aka A Vindication of Godliness in the Greater Strictness and Spirituality of It. Alleine was a Puritan whose Vindiciae was first published in 1660 without the permission of the archbishop which therefore led to it being ordered destroyed or "bisked" with a brush liberally dipped in ink.  Needless to say, this censorship would have insured its popularity even if it had not been a book of great spiritual power, as did Wesley's re-publication of it and his appropriation of Alleine's Covenant Prayer for his renewal services.  On Monday, August 11, 1755, Wesley used one chapter of Alleine's book during what appears to have been the first celebration of the Covenant Service at a chapel in Spitalfields, London.

Finding great meaning in the service, Wesley celebrated it almost everywhere he traveled, necessarily meaning that its observance fell at different times of the year. In London, however, these services were usually held on New Year's Day since the holiday occurred during the time when Wesley was nearly always in residence there.  These came to be known as Watch Night Services, typically lasting three or more hours with scripture and singing interspersed, marking a commitment to deeper faith during the coming year by means of prayer and repentance. Wesley's spiritual descendants continue to celebrate these Watch Night/Covenant Services, especially in the UK, while his adaptation of Alleine's Covenant Prayer is perhaps more widely used for personal devotions in the US as in Steven Manskar's A Disciple's Journal.

The order for the Covenant Service in the United Methodist Book of Worship utilizes the words of Wesley's original liturgy, slightly updated, and calls upon worshipers to commit themselves to Christ as his servants, recognizing that some types of service are "more easy and honorable" while others are "more difficult and disgraceful."  Because, Wesley says, sometimes we can only please Christ by denying ourselves, we will find that some of those services are "suitable to our inclinations and interests" and that "others are contrary to both."  Uncompromisingly, Wesley states that "Christ will have no servants except by consent; Christ will not accept anything except full consent to all that he requires.  Christ will be all in all, or he will be nothing."

The traditional form of the prayer that has come to be known as the Covenant Prayer in the Wesleyan Tradition is as follows:

I am no longer my own, but thine.
Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.
Put me to doing, put me to suffering.
Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee,
exalted for thee or brought low for thee.
Let me be full, let me be empty.
Let me have all things, let me have nothing.
I freely and heartily yield all things to thy pleasure and disposal.
And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
thou art mine, and I am thine.
So be it.
And the covenant which I have made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven.
Amen.

At this time of year, maybe you are accustomed to making some sort of resolution to lose weight, stop smoking, start exercising, or spend less time on your smartphone.  That's not a bad start; however,  this year, I invite you to spend some time deep in meditation and prayer, asking yourself how you can give more of yourself to Christ.  What might you need to give up/deny yourself in order to follow him more nearly?  What might you need to begin to practice as a way of being formed more in his image of holiness?  Praying the Covenant Prayer is a part of my daily devotional life at least once a day, and while I am by no means as holy as I one day hope to be by the power of the Holy Spirit, I believe that its words are making a home within my heart, guiding me to examine my inner and outer life more closely as I recommit myself to the Christ whose birth we now celebrate and whose walk we claim to emulate.  Will you do the same?

"O Holy Child, Still Let Thy Birth Bring Peace ..."

It's the second day of Christmastide, and for many people, things have gone back to the way they were before.  There is work to be done, wrapping paper to be recycled, dishes to be washed, and so forth.  The radio stations have stopped playing their version of Christmas tunes 24/7, and for most of the world, the holiday is over.  Yet the Church has seen this holy time differently for centuries, celebrating the nativity of Christ for 12 or 13 days (depending on how you count.)  December 25 rolls around every year, marking the day the Western Church calls to mind the birth of Jesus, but what difference does it really make in our daily lives?  Many great thinkers have pondered that question, including the 13th century German mystic and theologian Meister Eckhart.  Using birth imagery he reflected: 

We are all meant to be mothers of God. What good is it to me if this eternal birth of the divine Son takes place unceasingly, but does not take place within myself? And, what good is it to me if Mary is full of grace if I am not also full of grace? What good is it to me for the Creator to give birth to his Son if I do not also give birth to him in my time and my culture? This, then, is the fullness of time: When the Son of Man is begotten in us. 

You already know that Charles Wesley crafted dozens of hymns expressing the wonder of the incarnation, the mystery of the virgin birth, and the change wrought in the human heart as a result, so it comes as no surprise that I am showcasing another one. In this particular hymn, like Eckhart, he calls for God to appear in him -- "In my weak sinful flesh appear, O God, be manifested here."  Wesley rejoices that in Jesus Christ the divine and the human are joined so that we, too might be one with God, crying out for the Word to be incarnate in him, in his flesh, in his heart.  Charles Wesley paints no sentimental picture of the sweetly sleeping infant; he instead creates a theological act of praise that seeks nothing less than the very fullness of God to come to him and to all people because of that child's life and eventual death and resurrection.  

He concludes his hymn with a plea for Christ to come quickly so that he can be a true witness to the Lord, made holy and perfect in love, in order that he may cry aloud with joy,  'Come in my flesh is Christ, the Word, And I can sin no more!'  And so my Christmas prayer for you is that your post-Christmas Day life is not simply a return to the same old, same old.  I hope that you may be so filled with longing for the life divine to enter into your heart that Christ will be born there again and again.  I pray that you, too will be a witness to the Lord whose kingdom is set up in our hearts, bringing peace to all people upon the earth.  This is what it is to be filled with grace, even as Mary was filled with grace.  This is what it is to be filled with the fullness of the life of Christ.  This is the gift of Christmas.

All-wise, all-good, Almighty Lord,

Jesus, by highest heaven ador’d,
Ere time its course began,
How did thy glorious mercy stoop
To take the fallen nature up,
When thou thyself wert man?

Th’ eternal God from heav’n came down,
The King of Glory dropp’d his crown,
And veil’d his majesty,
Empty’d of all but love he came;
Jesus, I call thee by the name
Thy pity bore for me.

O holy child, still let thy birth
Bring peace to us poor worms on earth,
And praise to God on high!
Come, thou who didst my flesh assume,
Now to the abject sinner come,
And in a manger lie.

Didst thou not in thy person join
The natures human and divine,
That God and man might be
Henceforth inseparably one?
Haste then, and make thy nature known
Incarnated in me.

In my weak sinful flesh appear,
O God, be manifested here,
Peace, righteousness, and joy,
Thy kingdom, Lord, set up within
My faithful heart, and all my sin,
The devil’s works destroy.

I long thy coming to confess
The mystic power of godliness,
The life divine to prove,
The fulness of thy life to know,
Redeem’d from all my sins below,
And perfected in love.

O Christ, my hope, make known in me
The great, the glorious mystery,
The hidden life impart:
Come, thou desire of nations, come,
Form’d in a spotless virgin’s womb,
A pure believing heart.

Come quickly, dearest Lord, that I
May own, tho’ antichrist deny,
Thy incarnation’s power,
May cry, a witness to my Lord,
“Come in my flesh is Christ, the Word,
And I can sin no more!” ~ Charles Wesley

"And the Word became flesh"

And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us, (and we beheld his glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father,) full of grace and truth. (John 1: 14)

When I was a child, I remember hearing -- and saying -- "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me."  The intent behind the expression is to toughen us up, to keep our feelings from being hurt whenever someone calls us a name or says something unkind, but the truth is, words CAN hurt, and words matter far more than we'd sometimes like to admit.

The biblical writers knew how important words are and refrained from speaking or writing the "Tetragrammaton," the 4 letter name of God, in order not to commit blasphemy, and in the gospel of John, we are reminded that everything that has come into being was created by the Word of God; as John Wesley writes in his Notes on John 1, "the Word by whom the Father speaking, makes all things." This means that creation itself is an oral act, and moreover, the very same Word that spoke the world into being has entered into human existence, taking on our frail human flesh, or as Wesley so beautifully says, "tabernacled among us."

And just as the tabernacle in the Old Testament was an easily movable tent where God's glorious presence dwelt among the Israelites as they wandered in the wilderness, so too did Jesus pitch his tent of flesh to live awhile among us,"displaying his glory in a more eminent manner, than even of old in the tabernacle of Moses." In wonder and in a spirit of praise, Wesley writes in his notes on John 1: 14 that human beings are by nature "liars and children of wrath, to whom both grace and truth are unknown," yet we partake of them "when we are accepted through the Beloved."  He goes on to say that this verse might be paraphrased in this way:

And in order to raise us to this dignity and happiness, the eternal Word, by a most amazing condescension, was made flesh, united himself to our miserable nature, with all its innocent infirmities. And he did not make us a transient visit, but tabernacled among us on earth, displaying his glory in a more eminent manner, than even of old in the tabernacle of Moses. And we who are now recording these things beheld his glory with so strict an attention, that we can testify, it was in every respect such a glory as became the only begotten of the Father ....  In all he appeared full of grace and truth ... and really exhibited the most substantial blessings, whereas that was but a shadow of good things to come.

Wesley's reflections upon the richness of this one verse in John's gospel shine a light onto the extent of God's love for us as displayed in the Incarnation.  The Word took on flesh and became completely human in order to bless us richly, yet even these wonderful earthly blessings are "but a shadow of good things to come."  What lengths our Lord goes to in order to be in relationship with us, to reorder our lives and remold us by the Spirit into the daughters and sons of God we were created to be!  How much we are loved and cherished and valued by the One who stopped at nothing so that we might be reconciled to each other!  And so, with John Wesley and with Charles Wesley and all the company of heaven, let us join in this exultant hymn of Advent hope and yearning for his return in glory --

Yea, Amen! let all adore Thee,
High on Thine eternal throne;
Savior, take the power and glory,
Claim the kingdom for Thine own;
Come, Lord Jesus!
Come, Lord Jesus!
Come, Lord Jesus!
Everlasting God, come down!

Interruption, Incarnation

image found at https://www.passionistnuns.org/passionist-calendar/2018/5/31/feast-of-the-visitation-of-mary-to-elizabeth

Whence is it that my Lord
    Himself should visit me,
Should stoop to such a wretch abhorr'd,
    And claim my misery?
    He leaves His throne above
    For His own mercy sake,
He comes constrain'd by pitying love,
    And doth my nature take.

    The mystery of Thy grace
    What angel can conceive?
Thou wouldst to all our ransom'd race
    Faith and salvation give,
    Thou dost the grace reveal,
    Thou dost the faith impart,
And thus Thou com'st again to dwell
    For ever in my heart. ~ Charles Wesley

We are deep in the season of Advent, and we have once again read the story of the Angel Gabriel's appearance to Zechariah with an unexpected birth announcement for him and Elizabeth, and we have heard again the Virgin Mary's "yes" to God's interruption by way of incarnation into her life and body. Only Luke tells us this particular story that places two seemingly ordinary women at the very center of salvation history.  Again and again in his gospel, Luke, himself an outsider, seeks to draw our attention to the oft-overlooked participants in the drama -- to women, to the poor, to the stranger.

In this icon and in the hymn we see the juxtaposition of the joy at Elizabeth's surprising conception with the exultation at Mary's even more astounding news of her own pregnancy.  The two women hold each other tenderly as their unborn infants shift, as John the forerunner salutes his greater cousin Jesus by literally leaping for joy. Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit, greets Mary by asking in wonderment why the mother of her Lord is coming to her, honoring Mary (and perhaps herself) for trusting that the promise spoken by God would indeed be fulfilled, while Mary responds with a song praising God for what may seem "upside down" reasons. But this is of course, an upside down kind of God who trades immortality for mortality, stooping down, becoming flesh like us so that we might be filled with all the fullness of God.  The Christ who interrupted his own life above interrupts the cycle of sin and death below by becoming incarnate in the lives of those whose lives he enters into.

Interestingly, in Charles Wesley's hymn, he takes upon himself the role of Elizabeth AND of Mary and invites us to do the same.  In the first verse, he shifts Elizabeth's words of salutation to Mary into a cry of bewildered joy that the Incarnate Lord has set aside the grandeur of heaven to embrace human nature and flesh, while the second verse is a reverie that calls to mind Luke's later words about Mary pondering all these things in her heart.  The coming of the One who lifts up the lowly and fills the hungry with good things is a mystery beyond the eloquence of angels, and his advent is not simply a never-to-be-repeated virginal conception but an ongoing gift of grace as he makes his home in the hearts of all who accept his offer of salvation and faith. His coming not only interrupts the predictable, ordinary life that Mary probably expected for herself; his coming also interrupts the dominance of sin in the life of the world and breaks its power forever.

These are themes that Charles Wesley returns to repeatedly.  He cannot exhaust the praise of a God whose nature and name are Love; if he had one thousand tongues and as many years, he could not begin to describe the grace of such a gift.   But in his attempts to sound the depths of this divine grace, he continues to give us words to sing and pray as we celebrate the coming of the Lord, this Jesus who dwells forever in our hearts.

"Light of Those Whose Dreary Dwelling"

Charles Wesley preaching

Through the tender mercy of our God; whereby the Dayspring from on high hath visited us, to give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.  (Luke 1: 78-79, KJV)

This past Sunday was the second Sunday of  Advent, and my sermon focused on the Song of Zechariah in the first chapter of Luke, drawing on Malachi 3: 1-4 as an appetizer for the "Brood of Vipers" sermon sure to come next Sunday when John the Baptist really gets going as the warm-up act for Jesus. These two verses mark the culmination of Zechariah's exclamation of joy at seeing the hope of Israel finally being fulfilled with the imminent coming of the Messiah.  We share his yearning and excitement because like Elizabeth and Zechariah and all those who had been waiting for so long, we sometimes feel like things will never get any better.  Like them, we dwell in the land of darkness and in the shadow of death, and like them, without the advent of that Dayspring from on high, we cannot see a way out.

This hymn from Charles Wesley takes much of its inspiration from these verses in Luke 1.  In the first stanza, he longingly calls for the Light to come and dispel the clouds and to give sight to those who cannot see. In the second, he pleads for the Savior to come and shed grace on everyone everywhere, while the third rounds out the hymn with its yearning for salvation from the "pacific Prince,"  trusting that he will come to release every burdened soul while guiding us into God's perfect peace. 

Light of those whose dreary dwelling
     Borders on the shades of death, 
Come, and by Thy love's revealing 
     Dissipate the clouds beneath: 
The new heaven and earth's Creator, 
     In our deepest darkness rise, 
Scattering all the night of nature, 
     Pouring eyesight on our eyes.

Still we wait for Thy appearing, 
     Life and joy Thy beams impart, 
Chasing all our fears, and cheering 
     Every poor benighted heart: 
Come and manifest the favour 
     God hath for our ransom'd race; 
Come, Thou universal Saviour, 
     Come, and bring the gospel grace.

Save us in Thy great compassion,
     O Thou mild pacific Prince, 
Give the knowledge of salvation,
     Give the pardon of our sins; 
By Thine all-restoring merit
     Every burden'd soul release, 
Every weary, wandering spirit
     Guide into Thy perfect peace.

I am reminded of a medieval hymn with which Charles Wesley was almost certainly familiar, by Thomas Aquinas, :

Light of lights!  All gloom dispelling,
Thou didst come to make thy dwelling
Here within our world of sight.
Lord, in pity and in power,
Thou didst in our darkest hour
Rend the clouds and show thy light.

Praise to thee in earth and heaven
Now and evermore be given,
Christ, who art our sun and shield.
Lord, for us thy life thou gavest, 
Those who trust in thee thou savest,
All thy mercy stands revealed.

This is not terribly surprising.  After all, songs written in praise of the divine Light are not uncommon, particularly hymns that reflect upon the Incarnation.  (Just think of "Silent Night" or "O Little Town of Bethlehem," for example.) Aquinas penned a lovely poem/prayer to which Wesley no doubt was indebted, yet his lovely hymn stands on its own. Its last appearance in an American Methodist hymnal apparently is in 1905, according to Discipleship Ministries of the United Methodist Church (https://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/light-of-those-whose-dreary-dwelling), but it could easily be revived, especially when sung to the tune "Hyfrydol," the same tune used for the better known "Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus."

As you watch and wait and ponder and pray during this Advent season, you might read or even sing the words of Wesley's beautiful hymn.  In doing so, may you feel the darkness around you begin to dissipate as the Light shines into your heart and life, and may your weary, wandering spirit be guided by that same Light into perfect peace.