If Ever I Loved Thee . . .

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, "Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?"  (John 31:15)

 

That verse with its piercing question introduces one of the most memorable dialogues in all of scripture.  It's confirmation day down on the beach.  The Risen Christ comes to re-commission and restore Peter, a disciple who had denied and deserted him in the time of trial.  Ready or not, this is a moment of grace.  Do you love me more than these?  Do you love me?  Do you love me?

This is the question of our confirmation day.  The old catechism of my youth, in its concluding question about communion, taught the church to pray:

Lord Jesus, for thee I live, for thee I suffer, for thee will I die! 

Lord Jesus, thine will I be in life and in death! 

Grant me, O Lord, eternal salvation! 

Amen.  

Amazingly, it is this prayer--exclamation points and all (old Germans were seldom given to exclamation points)--that has emerged from my spirit in seasons of deepest spiritual turmoil.  Grace comes, after breakfast on the beach.  "Gary, son of Marvin, do you love me more than these?"  In moments when life is hard, ministry seems impossible, and failures in faith weigh heavily on mind and soul, an old prayer taken to heart long ago returns.  This prayer with its piety and exuberant exclamation points reminds me of my loving Savior to whom I have pledged my allegiance in life and in death and in life beyond death.

I have learned from so many over the course of my ministry.  One of those teachers was a woman named Meta, whom I never met outside the hospital.  It was my first week in my first call.  Meta was hospitalized when I arrived.  She died before I had a chance to know her well--but she taught me so much in but a few days.  With a weak and whispering voice she would sing a chorus from an old hymn,  "If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, 'tis now."  Meta's family was perplexed.  Where did this come from?  It was out of character.  She had not been given to singing hymns, and this one was not familiar.  But Meta's young pastor remembered his days with the Elmhurst Hymnal in Sunday School.  Straight out of the deep heritage of the Evangelical Church of North America--one of the predecessor communions that became the United Church of Christ--Meta found a song to sustain her in her dying days.

My fervent prayers in these days is that our children will have a song to sustain them in their seasons of grief and loss, in their times of suffering, . . . even in the hour of their death.  May the song of faith anchor them in a deep love for Jesus--and, especially, in the assurance of Jesus' abiding love for them.  May the resources of their faith see them through their deepest valleys, keeping their hearts stirred and attuned to the mighty chorus of hope, and at the last carry them home.

We sang that old hymn, some learning it for the first time amid the tears at Meta's funeral:

My Jesus, I love Thee, I know Thou art mine;
For Thee all the follies of sin I resign;
My gracious Redeemer, my Savior art Thou;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

 

I love Thee because Thou hast first loved me,
And purchased my pardon on Calvary’s tree;
I love Thee for wearing the thorns on Thy brow;
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

 

I’ll love Thee in life, I will love Thee in death,
And praise Thee as long as Thou lendest me breath;
And say when the death dew lies cold on my brow,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

 

In mansions of glory and endless delight,
I’ll ever adore Thee in heaven so bright;
I’ll sing with the glittering crown on my brow,
If ever I loved Thee, my Jesus, ’tis now.

 

--Wm. R. Featherston, 1864

 

 

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for meeting us on the beach, where you reclaim us by your love.  Let that love reside in the deepest depths of our hearts.  Enfold us in your grace.  See us through . . . see us through.  Amen.