Are there what you might call normal moments from your childhood that you remember vividly? I expect we all have some. But, here’s a question: why do we remember those particular moments?
I was born in Dublin, Ireland. One day, while being minded by Lucy’s mum, we’d been taken to the little market at Rathfarnham village so Lucy’s Mum could pick up some groceries. As the checkout assistant was scanning across the items, Lucy subtly slipped some candy into the pile of groceries without her mum seeing. Camouflaged under the tins and packets, the candy slipped through to be collected (and later consumed) by Lucy at the other end. One part of me was quite impressed by the whole operation. And another part of me was thinking I would never do that! … although there were plenty of naughty things I did do as a child!
Learning Psalm 23 for a Sunday School exam, age 5, is another vivid memory I’ve retained from the age of 5. The idea of exams in Sunday School seems very old fashioned, doesn’t it? I remember repeatedly running over it in my mind as I sat outside the hall, waiting for my turn to be asked in to recite the Psalm to our teacher. (I passed!)
And yet it’s those forgotten, lived moments of meals and friends and play and tears and bedtime and waiting and routines and drives and conversations that shape us to be the people we are now.
I’m 60 years old now. In my first 5 years, before my family moved to Australia, I had lots of friends, I’d been to lots of shops, I’m sure I learned lots of things in Sunday School, week after week. I do have lots of other more predictable memories from those days: falling through the kitchen window, making snowmen in the back garden, watching the first man on the moon on our black and white TV, riding with the garbage collectors around the block on the back of their truck, getting locked in the golf course… They’re the sort of things you’d expect to remember. But those little, very normal memories have also stayed with me. No matter what age you are, I’m sure you have lots of your own. And maybe you also sometimes wonder, why have I remembered that all my life?
One thing these memories remind me is that there is a lot of life that is very normal, ordinary, repetitive, and seemingly insignificant. And yet it’s those forgotten, lived moments of meals and friends and play and tears and bedtime and waiting and routines and drives and conversations that shape us to be the people we are now.
I have written a lot of songs. It’s been not just my job for many years – it’s also something I love to do. There’s a joy in finishing a song, getting the words and music to fold around each other so they sing a story, tell a truth, or capture a feeling. But, like memories, not every song takes to the wing and flies. Sometimes you know you’ve written a good one, but other times they sort of slip into the dusty bottom drawer and there they will (probably) stay.
Jesus, Strong and Kind is a song I wrote with my friends Jonny Robinson and Rich Thompson, the main songwriters for much of the music released by CityAlight. They came to my house, and we sat down and talked together about what we hoped to write. Jonny and Rich were very clear about wanting a simple song that could live in the everyday and be sung in the forgotten, normal moments of our young (or old!) lives. But to stand up and contend with our bustling, here and there, to–ing and fro–ing world, such a song would need to be memorable. No small challenge.
This morning, my daily Bible reading took me to Deuteronomy chapter 11. The old man Moses is giving his last sermon to the people of Israel before they go into the promised land. For the second time, he says, “Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds. Teach them to your children, at home, on the road, at bedtime and breakfast.” It was like Moses was saying – ‘God’s commands, the story of his deliverance, the wonders of his love – put them right into the middle of your ordinary.’ There’s certainly nothing ordinary about the words, works and wonders of God. And yet he wants them to be right there in our everyday moments.
Moses keeps reminding Israel of God’s hand of deliverance. God led them and fed them through 40 years of forgettable wilderness. He loved them, he held them, and he shepherded them to the very edge of the promised land. I see the bigness of God: “the God of gods, Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome” (Deuteronomy 10:17)– I also see the smallness of wandering, wilful Israel. Thirsty. Weak. Afraid. Lost.
In the life of Jesus, we see God ‘on the ground’. The time for patriarch and prophet is past; He speaks, but not from a mountain and not out of the rumbling, fearsome fire of Mt Sinai. Instead, the Word becomes flesh and dwells among us. Right in the fraught, frail everyday life. And we see that he is the Son of Man who came not to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Jesus comes to us, to those who are just like Israel. Thirsty. Weak. Afraid. Lost.
There’s certainly nothing ordinary about the words, works and wonders of God. And yet he wants them to be right there in our everyday moments.
Jesus, Strong and Kind seeks to sing these truths into our forgotten moments. So much of our lives come and go. We can’t hold every moment because our attention is constantly dragged on to the next big or small challenge: the spills and ills, skinned knees, lost toys, new jobs, more bills, sleepless sorrows, utter delights and myriad of uncertainties. We’re like ants at a picnic.
“Come to me, you who are weary and burdened.” Our preacher read those words from Matthew 11 to us last Sunday. Simple and memorable, like the stories of relentless grace and kindness that repeatedly rise from the pages of the gospels: the Lord of lords…LOVES.
Frailty is the perfect vantage point from which to view the sovereign strength and sufficiency of our Lord of lords.
So, sing Jesus, Strong and Kind – or any song of truth – into the life of your family, your children, and your own life. Together, sing your vulnerability before the Lord. Frailty is the perfect vantage point from which to view the sovereign strength and sufficiency of our Lord of lords. In the multitude of moments destined to become forgotten, let the transcendent kindness of Jesus become mealtime, bathtime, bedtime, commute, dirty dishes, washing–on–the–line familiar.
Jonny, Rich and I are delighted that Sinclair Ferguson heard the song and was moved to bless us all with a book to share. It’s a gift that can propel us from remembered, rhyming lines to the actual stories of Jesus with drama, power and tenderness. I love Sinclair’s wise, warm, and unhurried ability to open up the narratives gently yet powerfully. They carry so much truth and comfort; Sinclair brings this to life. To sing the song after reading Sinclair’s Jesus, Strong and Kind will, I think, add breadth to truths as they are sung; they’ll spark our biblical imagination and assure us that these words of deep comfort really happened, and were lived out in the very life of Jesus.
May all our days – memorable and forgotten, bountiful and broken – be filled with the assurance that we have a Saviour who is marvellous, eternal and supreme. He is Lord of lords: Jesus, Strong and Kind. Now that is something to really sing, read and remember together!
