Day Fifteen
[Special thanks to Amy Nemecek for today’s post]
“But for me it is good to be near God;
I have made the Lord God my refuge,
that I may tell of all your works.”—Psalm 73:28 (ESV)
Just as athletes run drills and musicians practice scales to reinforce and strengthen fundamental muscle patterns, our souls need the repetition of movements and patterns of the Holy Spirit. Praying. Reading and meditating on God’s Word. Humbling ourselves in true repentance.
The essential movement in each of these practices is that of drawing near to God.
Praying with and meditating on the hymn “Nearer, My God, to Thee” is appropriate during Lent as we journey with Jesus to the cross and there find that we can be nearer to God than we have ever been. The song’s lyrics express a hard truth: suffering is an opportunity for our hearts to be drawn closer to God.
I can’t hear this hymn without thinking of my dad. A precious childhood memory is the time he sat down at our piano to prove to me that he could play. But he could only recall one song: “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” His thick fingers, which were more tuned to the feel of wrenches and the sound of engines, were soft on the keys as they automatically found melody and chords that carried his thoughts elsewhere.
What began as a merry jest became a window into my father’s soul. By this time in life he had borne crosses of suffering and loss, and he would go on to bear many more before he himself was laid to rest. That he remembered how to play this one song says much. Even in the hard times—especially in the hard times—he wanted to be nearer to God. The hymn was the prayer of his heart, and I got to witness it before the curtain came down and his good-natured teasing resumed.
That image of my dad at the piano has carried with me through my own griefs. His unspoken lesson has been a reminder to listen to my own soul’s longing for God in midst of loss and sadness. That practice makes the pain bearable—even useful.
I don’t desire suffering. It hurts. It leaves me broken, sad, scarred. And yet, I can’t deny that it draws me nearer to Jesus. Suffering joins me with him in a way that I don’t experience when life is easy and cares are few. It is indeed good to be near to him, even if that nearness comes through pain. The prophet Isaiah says, “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (53:4). As we draw near to Christ in our brokenness, his presence becomes our refuge and we are moved to tell others so that they too may recognize and exercise their soul’s desire for closeness with him.
The continued practice of drawing near moves us into the art of praise.
Whether we are wandering or settled, weeping or rejoicing, in deepest darkness or brightest praise, may the muscle memory of our souls draw us ever nearer to God.
Though like the wanderer, the sun gone down,
darkness be over me, my rest a stone;
yet in my dreams I'd be
nearer, my God, to thee;
nearer, my God, to thee, nearer to thee
Read the rest of the lyrics here.
Questions for Reflection
1) Think of a time in your life when you experienced loss or suffering — perhaps you’re in such a season right now. In what ways has God used (or is he using) that experience to stir up your soul’s longing to be nearer to him?
2) Here is an additional verse from this hymn:
Then with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise,
Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise;
So by my woes to be
Nearer, my God, to Thee
Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee
Read the verse slowly and prayerfully. The reference to raising Bethel comes from Genesis 28, where Jacob takes the stone he used as a pillow and raises it as an altar to remember his encounter with God in his dream. The hymn writer suggests that our “stony griefs” can become altars of remembrance that testify to God’s presence. How might we practice this in our own lives?
3) In Psalm 63, David expresses his soul’s deep longing for God. Meditate on these lines from the psalm and carry them with you throughout the day to express your own soul’s longing to be nearer to God:
O God, you are my God;
earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
My soul clings to you;
your right hand upholds me.
Abba, let this hymn be my prayer in this Lenten season as I journey with Jesus to the cross. Whether I’m in a season of relative ease or experiencing deep trials, let my soul’s muscle memory keep my heart in tune with my deepest longing: I want to be nearer to you. Amen.