Going home for me usually entails a Sunday morning visit to First United Methodist Church on South Main in Hopkinsville, KY. It’s a beautiful old stone church and in some ways much of it has remained the same, at least in the sanctuary where stained glass windows line both sides. The large stained glass window above the choir loft is flanked by the tall shiny brass organ pipes. The floors still creak. The dark wooden pews are still hard and in my mind I can see people sitting in “their” pews. I catch my self looking across the aisle for Christine and Pappy, though they passed away years ago. I even remember looking at the back of Mr. Frank Yost’s head, always so neatly combed, with his two daughters, Ridley and Francie sitting to his right. I don’t know where they are now but I do know that his milling company still makes Sunflower flour which I can now buy at my Kroger. Just buying it gives me a connection to home and the memory of my mother’s biscuits---because she wouldn’t even consider buying anything else.
I am drawn to different modes of worship both personally and in a church setting. But growing up in a traditional protestant setting provided a background based on a more formal liturgy. This traditional ritual of worship has remained the same and that familiarity feels right because I know the routine. It even feels comforting. If it’s communion Sunday, you go down to the altar to kneel and partake of the elements---approaching from the center aisle and returning to our pew using the side aisle. There are also kneeling benches in each pew, though I never remember using them.
You can still count on always saying the Apostle’s Creed---printed in the back of the hymnal, if you need it. Back then, everyone I knew recited it. In the old Cokesbury hymnal I remember using, you found the Doxology on page 1. Again, no one used the hymnal---everyone just knew it. I wonder if my grandchildren know that “liturgical formula of praise to God?” I’m sure singing praises in unison must be sweet music to the Lord’s ears.
Praise God from whom all blessing flow.
Praise Him all creature here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. A-men
Praise Him all creature here below.
Praise Him above ye heavenly hosts.
Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. A-men
I loved the Ah-h-h-h men part which they would drag out.
Doxology-Greek for praise---
Doxa, glory and honor, with logos, speech.
Why am I thinking about The Doxology? (You probably wonder that about a lot of things I write.)
I have learned in the last few months that those verses, hymns and even creeds become more than words of “rote” memory. Those words are foundational and they (especially those of praise) come back in times of trial and suffering. Praise should inhabit our hearts---whether our prayers are answered or not, whether we are in the midst of seemingly “cruel” circumstances or we are truly in a joyful state. You see, I have learned that joy and suffering are not separate entities---they can both inhabit a grateful heart at the same time. Praise God for whatever has brought you to the present moment, good, bad or just commonplace/ordinary. When we offer praise to God during these dark, hard times, it’s “to whisper a doxology in the darkness.” (Brennan Manning)
