NEW TUNES FOR OLD WORDS [F, 7-31-26]

CHRIST IN WINTER: The Irrelevant Reminiscences of An Old Hymn Singer—NEW TUNES FOR OLD WORDS [F, 7-31-26]

 

I once attended a conference of several thousand church people that went on for several days. It was in a huge arena. I was among the least important attendees, so my place was in the second balcony, at the end farthest from the stage.

I was glad to be there, but I was quite lonely in the midst of all those good people. I was undergoing treatment for cancer, with the real expectation that I might die within a year or two.

At some point, one of the organizers decided that his son’s garage band should play for us, which seemed like a very strange choice. Half a dozen skinny teen boys in ratty life-beater shirts and ripped pants, with drums and electric guitars. By the time they got set up, nobody was paying attention to the stage. Then they started to play and sing. Well, shout, actually. It was loud even in that arena. It was no longer “…the noise of solemn assemblies.” It awas the noise of rock and roll. Well, more like heavy metal. Even in the far balcony, my seat was vibrating.

Then I realized that the “melody,” if you could call that, sounded sort of familiar. Good grief! They were screaming Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God almighty… It wasn’t morning, but… early in the morning, our song shall rise to Thee… Rise it did! All four verses! It was a Presence of God moment.

From as long as I could remember, I had sung those lyrics to the Nicaea tune of John B. Dykes. That was the standard tune even in “the brown book,” which Forsythe Church preferred to use, instead of “the blue book,” which was the official Methodist Hymnal. That was the tune that garage band was using, but it sounded so different.

I’ve always been intrigued by hearing familiar lyrics to a different tune. They always seem to have a fuller meaning that way.

I remember the first time I heard Amazing Grace to the tune of The House of the Rising Son. No, not The Blind Boys of Alabama, although that is their signature song, but another skinny teen boy.

I was in charge of our conference’s Labor Day Weekend retreat for senior highs, sort of a “last fling before school.” The whole group was gathered in the tabernacle, singing camp songs. One kid stood up and said, “My friend here sings Amazing Grace in a different way. You should hear it.”

I didn’t much want to interrupt the flow, and what if the kid couldn’t sing? It would be embarrassing. Also, the kid he pointed out looked shy and reluctant, but I asked him to sing. He didn’t come up front, just stood where he was, and in a clear but haunting voice sang the words of saving grace to that melody of dark sinfulness. It was hearing those words again for the first time. It was a Presence of God moment.

Sometimes now, our church sings an old familiar hymn to a different tune. I sit there on my sofa and scowl. How can they do that? That hymn isn’t the same with a different tune! Then I remember… no, it isn’t, and that can be a good thing.

When we’re old, it’s okay to sit back and enjoy the old lyrics and melodies of life. They have served us well. We’ve earned the right to enjoy those old ways. But it’s okay to be stirred from complacency, too.

John Robert McFarland