a lawyer by training, I have long maintained that my profession is writing. Welcome to my occasional musings and perpetual pursuit of efficient language and reason-based arguments.

A Better Perspective

A Better Perspective

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When I was growing up in small-town Iowa, church was a central part of my week. We would go to Sunday School on Sunday mornings, then the congregational service before lunch. On Sunday evenings, we would return for a final service. We also had a mid-week service that was part of our routine. Through it all, our church hymnal provided the soundtrack for our time together.

My church had two different hymnals during my 18 years in Grundy Center. We had “The Worship and Service Hymnal” in green when I was young. Later, we had “The Hymnal for Worship and Celebration” in blue after an update to the church décor (my mom and I also had the red version for accompaniment). In addition to the sound theology, the hymnal provided a rich understanding of music—melody, harmony, and what it takes to blend a message with music.

The combination contributed to my deep love of music, and there are endless songs from the hymnal that still prompt great joy and memories for me. “It is Well with My Soul” is probably my favorite. “Heaven Came Down” was my favorite growing up—jazzy stuff for a Baptist church. And “Trees of the Field” remains memorable because it was the rare instance where congregants clapped along with the song—somewhat scandalous for our Baptist church.

Despite many songs I enjoyed at the time, there was one that always made me uncomfortable: “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus.” The song opened with the following:

O soul, are you weary and troubled?
No light in the darkness you see?
There’s light for a look at the Savior,
And life more abundant and free.

The verse gave way to the chorus which encouraged the listener to turn your eyes to Jesus. It concludes with this sentence: “And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, In the light of His glory and grace.” This line troubled me to no end.

When I look back, it’s hard to say I was weary and troubled in my youth. The world was new and exciting. I had two parents who loved me and nothing resembling needs. Sure, there were things I would have changed if I had a magician’s wand at my disposal, but I think I had a precocious perspective to know things could be far worse than anything I was facing.

So when the song reached its culminating point—look to Jesus and the world will fade—I bucked at such a suggestion. Why would anyone want such a thing? The world has so much to enjoy. I enjoyed school, sports, and music. My family enjoyed good meals together and took vacations to places that were interesting. I had friends whose company I enjoyed. These delights remain today, albeit in slightly different forms.

The difference, however, is that I appreciate the message in “Turn Your Eyes” more than I ever did in my youth. It is not that I no longer enjoy learning, playing, dining, traveling, and friends. But I see them in the context of what is to come.

Recently, I listened to a message by Tim Keller, former pastor at Redeemer Presbyterian Church in New York City. He based his message on Philippians 4:4-12, which includes the verses, “do not be anxious about anything, but…let your requests be made known to God.” The message continues that we should set our minds on that which is lovely, pure, and commendable. Then, by bringing our needs to God, He gives peace.

Paul, who had been repeatedly beaten, jailed, and shipwrecked, finished with this point: “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”

This secret is something more than merely ignoring our problems and sorrows. It has to do with a perspective that makes even the greatest problems seem manageable. In Paul’s life, he had spoken to crowds who turned on him, grabbed him, and beat him with rocks until they thought he was dead. He experienced multiple shipwrecks and imprisonments, and Paul also suffered from a chronic pain in his side. Yet still he discussed contentedness because he lived in hope and expectation that through Jesus he would enjoy an eternity that included neither pain or suffering.

Keep in mind that Paul was no simpleton. He was classically trained in the law and philosophy; he was immensely successful by material standards before he followed Jesus. This is helpful to remember because—even today—I am slightly skeptical of seemingly intelligent people who are too happy. As Solomon observed, “with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief.”

His observation is sound. Even if a person is not suffering individually, it is hard to find joy given the abundance of war, famine, and poverty that permeates within and beyond the shiny veneer of suburbia. Paul knew of the world’s ugliness, and he knew of individual suffering. His peace was one of reason and confidence in where he found hope: God’s grace.

Paul knew of this Grace better than most. Before Paul followed Jesus, he was a religious prosecutor, and he oversaw the execution of those who followed Jesus. Because of this, Paul saw himself as the most wretched of individuals. But he knew that God gives grace and forgiveness to any who follow Jesus. It was here that Paul found contentedness. Despite his great success and comfort by human standards, he only found lasting comfort in seeing that the brevity and fragility of life gives way to something lasting.

Paul did not live as an ascetic—abstaining from all pleasures and earthly joy. Nor did he prescribe such a life. Instead, he looked at the good and the bad with a perspective on how today fit into the larger context of eternity. It is this big-picture perspective—Paul’s secret—that gives lasting peace. By thinking of God and thanking Him for what He gives, we can see the problems as small and temporary based on hope for what is to come.

When I was younger, and we sang “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus,” I did not fully appreciate God’s promise. It was hard to imagine finding joy in the cartoon description of heaven—floating on the clouds while strumming a harp. But when I now turn my eyes on this life, it is not that today fades with a dreariness of dissatisfaction. It is that God’s promise of eternal life through Jesus has increased as a source of joy.

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