Blessed Assurance

It was one of those moments, being a gospel pianist, that I forgot the music and watched the song leader. Of course, that’s what you are supposed to do, but with this song, at this time, with a church full of singers, the song leader was taking his liberty to lead. It was an old hymn, written in 1873 by Fanny Crosby and her friend Phoebe Knapp. This song has been published in over 1000 hymnals. It is on page 477 of the red hymnal I grew up learning.  It features a simple melody and a chorus that swells the heart and voices with beautiful harmony, particularly when the song leader holds the final two musical phrases of the chorus.  The question I have found myself asking is, am I singing the song, or am I living it?

In 1873, Phoebe Knapp played a melody for her friend Fanny, who had been blind since infancy, and upon hearing it, Fanny immediately responded by reciting the first five words of the opening verse.  Fanny, being blind, lived her life based solely on what people told her about the world and its beauty. One of her quotes is as follows: “If I had a choice, I would still choose to remain blind…for when I die, the first face I will ever see will be the face of my blessed Savior.” Perhaps it’s that total dependence and acceptance of her “blessed providence,” as she puts it, gave her a different insight into who God is. That leads me back to my question, though I love the song, am I singing it or living it?

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine;
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.
This is my story, this is my song,
  Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest;
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

 If you grew up in the church revival time meetings as I described above, you can almost hear the song leader holding out the phrase, “This,,,,,,, is,,,,,,,,, my,,,,,,,” before landing on “story” and resolving the chorus. And yet, do I? Do I “praise my savior all day long” when I am so frustrated I could spit nails? How is my “perfect submission“, when “all is not at rest?” Do I hear the “echoes of mercy, and whispers of love,” or do I hear my troubled heart crying out to things other than God? The world I live in seems to get in the way of seeing the “glory divine.” I am not “happy and blest in my Savior”, I am tired, crabby, and slightly opinionated about how people are walking all over my heart. And yet, that’s because I am not “watching and waiting, looking above”, I am scanning the world below for something to find praiseworthy. I am not “filled with his goodness” because I have allowed “stuff” to live within me, and I can’t feel his love because I have substituted other things that I thought would be love, but only to discover they are empty boxes of what seemed like a good idea.

Often when I sing a hymn, I find myself singing it, and I love it. I need to let the words sink in, the meaning invade my heart, so I am truly living the words I sing, not just singing because it’s beautiful.