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A Sermon in Song
Part One: The Place That Molded Me
I was raised in a little white church with a red brick facade.
Of course, lots of people can say they were raised in church, but when I say I was raised in church, I mean I was raised in church. My grandfather was the pastor of the First Bible Baptist Church in Mineral Wells, Texas.
We had the usual four services per week—Sunday School, Sunday morning worship, Sunday evening worship, and Wednesday bible study. Unsatisfied to let the Philistines educate the children of the church, Big Granddad—that’s what the Strother kids called him because our other grandfather was slight of build and Big Granddad was a big, strong man—built an addition onto the sanctuary that would be used both for Sunday School space and to house a Christian school.
I attended that school from fifth grade until we left Mineral Wells the summer before my senior year, with just a brief interval when my dad moved us to Strawn so he could pastor his own church and raise me there.
Like I said, I was raised in church.
The sanctuary seated probably 100 people tops. There were two rows of wooden pews and a center aisle. The floor was vinyl tile, except for the center aisle and the platform, which wore red carpet—red like blood, like nothing but the blood of Jesus. A simple podium was front and center on the stage. On either side were the instruments of worship—an upright piano to the left and a small organ to the right.
Granny Atkins played the organ. She was an ancient woman with a bent back that forced her mostly to look at her feet or the organ keys. When she did bother to look up at you, she had some advice or a “testimony” to share. She was as sweet as pie but that organ was the stuff of haunted dreams.
Years ago, I took Donya to the Music Hall at Fair Park in Dallas to see The Phantom of the Opera. When they played that iconic organ music, all I could see was the ghost of Granny Atkins.
Part Two: The Pianist that Made Me
It was the piano that influenced my life the most in that church—and the pianist, who happened to be Freda Jo Strother, Big Granddad’s oldest daughter and my mom. I do not remember a single sermon Big Granddad preached, but I do remember some I preached there as a wet-nosed preacher boy. That was where I cut my teeth and began to hone my skills as a public speaker, and nothing has served me better in life than that, unless you count the pianist.
My mom was the pianist, the best singer in that or any other church in that Texas hamlet. Consequently, she often sang a “special” right before Big Granddad’s sermon. Her songs are the part of those worship services that have stuck with me like Gorilla Glue through all the decades since. From them, I learned about Jesus, love, life, sacrifice, faith, faithfulness—all the qualities in a faith worth having and a life worth living.
In my home, the home of a bi-vocational preacher who loved souls and cars and a faithful woman who quietly modeled all the good stuff in life, there was a big family Bible. It sat on a shelf or a coffee table and it had photos and newspaper clippings in it. I think Mom even stuck one or two of the first sermons I ever typed out in it. But we didn’t take it out and gather around it to read it the way some remember doing in their childhood.
We never had family devotions. Mom didn’t give a lot of verbal instructions on Christian living. Like Big Granddad, she was pretty quiet. He was the least talkative preacher I ever remember knowing. Mom was that way, too. She could be so quiet that some thought she didn’t like them. It wasn’t true. She just didn’t know them well enough to have something to say, or she left room for them to carry the conversation.
Honestly, I have had deeper and longer talks with my mother-in-law than I ever did my mother.
But what she did was sing from the piano in church. When she did, it was so powerful. She had this alto voice like Adele, but long, long before Adele. She was powerful like Cher. She didn’t need a microphone to fill that sanctuary, which had remarkably good acoustics, with her voice. When she sang, no one shuffled or coughed. No kids cried. We barely breathed.
It was not the family bible or daily devotions around a family altar that molded me; it was the songs my mom sang. Certain ones etched into my soul that I could never hear again and not hear her voice enveloping me in the hand of God.
It was decades before I realized how much of my theology was first expressed in her songs, and how my impression of God and His Son Jesus was formed there.
Part Three: The Songs That Sold Me Jesus
Let me share a few of the songs Mom sang that I still hear in my heart and sometimes sing or whistle as I work or drive.
Number One: Neither Do I Condemn Thee
By the proud worshippers,
Scorned for her sin,
Was the poor wanderer
Rudely brought in.
Scribes came and Pharisees,
Eager to see,
What the meek Nazarene’s,
Verdict would be.
Told of her wanderings,
Marking each flaw,
Spoke they of punishment,
Quoting the law.
Sat He unheedingly,
Head bowing low,
Writing the ground upon,
Sadly and slow.
Still cried the Pharisees,
“Pray, Master, pray,
What shall we do with her
What dost Thou say?”
Spoke He rebukingly,
“Let the first stone,
Come from a sinless hand,
And thence alone.”
Cheeks flushing red with shame,
Turned each about,
And from His presence went
Silently out.
Then saw He standing there,
Head bending low,
Her whom the world despised,
Saw her tears flow.
Spoke He most tenderly,
“Pray, woman, pray,”
“Hast thou accusers none?”
“Nay, Master, nay,”
“Neither do I condemn,
Soul sick and sore,
Go, for I pardon thee,
Go, sin no more.”
Refrain:
“Neither do I condemn thee,”
Precious words divine!
From the lips of mercy,
Like the sweetest chime.
Wonderful words of Jesus!
Sing them o’er and o’er,
“Neither do I condemn thee,
Go, and sin no more.”
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. —Romans 8:1
Jesus offers forgiveness of sin and freedom from sin’s powerful grip to those who will believe and follow Him. The worst among us need no more and no less grace than the most upright.
I learned that from the pianist.
Number Two: I See Jesus
Once a man named Steven preached about the Lord
Folks were saved and folks were healed as they heard His Word
Satan did not like it soon he had his crowd
And as he was tried they heard Steven cry aloud
As the stones fell on him beating out his life
Steven knew he’d soon be through with all toil and strife
So much like the Master with a heart so true
He prayed Lord forgive them for they know not what they do
Through the gates of glory down the streets of gold
Marched the hero of the Lord into heaven’s fold
When he met the Saviour at the great white throne
I believed he smiled and said “Steven, welcome home”
I see Jesus standing at the Father’s right hand
I see Jesus over in the Promised Land
Work is over now I’m coming to Thee
I see Jesus standing waiting for me
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us. —Romans 8:18
Whatever it costs, a life of faith and faithfulness is worth living, not just for the benefits to your character, reputation, family, and legacy here but eternally. A life in Christ is never wasted, however long or short, or however troubled.
I learned that from the pianist.
Number Three: I know Whom I Have Believed
I know not why God’s wondrous grace
To me He hath made known,
Nor why, unworthy, Christ in love
Redeemed me for His own.
I know not how this saving faith
To me He did impart,
Nor how believing in His Word
Wrought peace within my heart.
I know not how the Spirit moves,
Convincing men of sin,
Revealing Jesus through the Word,
Creating faith in Him.
I know not what of good or ill
May be reserved for me,
Of weary ways or golden days,
Before His face I see.
I know not when my Lord may come,
At night or noonday fair,
Nor if I walk the vale with Him,
Or meet Him in the air.
But I know Whom I have believed,
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I’ve committed
Unto Him against that day.
Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me His prisoner, but share with me in the sufferings for the gospel according to the power of God, who has saved us and called us with a holy calling, not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace which was given to us in Christ Jesus before time began, but has now been revealed by the appearing of our Savior Jesus Christ, who has abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel, to which I was appointed a preacher, an apostle, and a teacher of the Gentiles. For this reason I also suffer these things; nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day. —2 Timothy 1:8–12
Paul wrote his young protégé from prison. That is potentially embarrassing. You think culture trying to cancel Christian voices and beliefs is something new? It is as old as Christianity itself. If you are waiting for Christ to be vogue, you are looking for the wrong thing.
You want to hear some really, really unpopular words?
“Do not think that I came to bring peace on earth. I did not come to bring peace but a sword. For I have come to ‘set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law’; and ‘a man’s enemies will be those of his own household.’ He who loves father or mother more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who loves son or daughter more than Me is not worthy of Me. And he who does not take his cross and follow after Me is not worthy of Me. He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it.” —Matthew 10:34–36
What? You thought following Jesus was going to simplify everything and get you lots of “likes” on Social Media? You thought He would be a good mascot for your parade? Try prison. Try Crucifixion. Try being cancelled in ways you never dreamed.
No. But! But! I know Whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep ‘that’ which I’ve committed unto Him against that day.
What is “that which I’ve committed” in that verse?
Everything! Everything I am. Everything I have. Everything I hope and dream. All of it. He is not about half measures or hedging your bet.
I learned that from the pianist.
Number Four: No One Ever Cared for Me Like Jesus
I would love to tell you what I think of Jesus,
Since I found in Him a friend so strong and true.
I would tell you how He changed my life completely;
He did something no other friend could do.
All my life was full of sin when Jesus found me;
All my heart was full of misery and woe,
Jesus placed His strong arms about me
And He led me in the way I ought to go.
Every day He comes to me with new assurance;
More and more I understand His words of love.
But I’ll never know just why He came to save me,
Till someday I see His blessed face above.
Chorus
No one ever cared for me like Jesus;
There’s no other friend so kind as He.
No one else could take the sin and darkness from me;
O how much He cared for me.
What I learned from the pianist is that the Christian faith is not about a platform. It is not a program. It is not a political agenda or a policy. It is not a performance.
It is all about a person—Jesus Christ.
I have two questions:
Where is your faith? It is somewhere, even if you are an atheist. It is in something or someone. You do not know everything, so you must believe something.
What are your kids learning from the song of your life that will make them, mold them, and sustain them in the decades to come?
My name is Gene. Some call me Preacher. And this is Sunday School.
