THE HUM OF HUMBLE WORSHIP

By Michael K. Farrar, O.D.

© God’s Breath Publications

 

The Pastor slid the multi‑pane window of his church office up. Fresh air poured through the opening in the old brick building bringing the fragrance of freshly mowed grass and flower blossoms. “It’s such a beautiful day,” He thought to himself. It would be great to lie out on the lawn and soak up the warm sun, but he must prepare for Sunday’s sermon.

 

The Pastor opened his Bible and began to read in the book of John about the woman at the well. He prayed that God would put something on his heart to share with his congregation this coming Sunday. As he began to read the account of the Samaritan women his concentration was interrupted. Someone was humming a song outside.

 

The Pastor tried to concentrate on the passage of scripture, but the subtle sounds of the song penetrated his concentration. “Whoever was attempting to hum their tune needed a music lesson.” He thought.

 

After several minutes the pastor finally surrendered to the humming and attempted to identify the song that was hidden within it. He knew it must be a hymn of some sort, but he just couldn’t figure out which one.

 

The pastor went to the window to investigate. He gazed into the church courtyard. There by the beautiful fountain was an elderly woman in a wheel chair.  He could see her deformed limbs that might be called legs draped over the edge of the chair. She wore a black dress that was covered with a brightly colored flower pattern. Her delicate head was tilted back as if she was gazing into the heavens but her eyes were closed. The only sign of life on her face was the huge smile formed by her small thin lips. Her delicate hands were stretched out before her, palms facing upward. From her closed mouth came the hum of the song she shared with no one but God and the eavesdropping pastor.

 

The pastor thought of interrupting her to ask her what song she was humming, but hesitated. Possibly he should leave her alone? What was that song? He knew he had heard it before.

 

A tear formed in the corner of his eye as he finally recognized the hymn this fragile sister was offering in worship to her Lord. He remembered the passage in the book of John he had been reading. He thought about the type of worship Jesus had said His Father desired. This crippled child of God was offering true spiritual worship, herself.

 

He knew what he would share with his brothers and sisters on Sunday. He began to whisper the words of the hymn he knew so well, the hymn the woman at the fountain was humming in worship to her Savior.

 

JUST AS I AM

Charlotte Elliott – 1835 

Just as I am, without one plea.

But that Thy blood was shed for me.

And that Thou biddest me come to Thee.

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

 

Just as I am and waiting not.

To rid my soul of one dark blot.

To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot.

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

 

Just as I am Thou wilt receive.

Wilt welcome pardon cleanse relieve.

Because Thy promise I believe

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

 

Just as I am Thy love unknown.

Hath broken every barrier down.

Now to be Thine yes, Thine alone.

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

 

Just as I am though tossed about.

With many a conflict many a doubt.

Fightings and fears within without.

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

 

Just as I am poor wretched blind.

Sight riches healing of the mind.

Yea all I need in Thee to find.

O Lamb of God, I come, I come.