Why I Like The Old Songs

Back in the 1980’s and 90’s I published a number of articles in a publication known as “The Pentecostal Evangel.” I may re-post some or all of these over the next months, if only to give a new generation an opportunity to find them online if they wish.  This is an article from the September 1991 international edition of The Evangel about my love of old hymns and songs. Although I grew up in the era of rock and roll, and loved contemporary Christian music and Christian rock from its genesis in the Jesus Movement of the early 1970’s, I still find a connection with older songs. Maybe I have always been an old man at heart, respecting and valuing traditions, history, and icons and antiquities from the past. I used to think I would fit nicely in the 1890’s. . ..

Here is the text of the article, and interestingly enough, I received more feedback (in the form of snail mail letters, as there was no internet or email in 1991) from this article, from all over the country thanking me for writing this, than any of the dozens of other articles I published. I was serving as pastor of Bethel Church in Chehalis, Washington at the time. My reference to “overhead projectors” makes me chuckle as I think about the technology and practices of the time:

I’m not an old-timer, regardless of what my kids might say! At the age of 36 (at the time this was published), I belong to the baby boom generation. I grew up in the turbulent 1960’s and 70’s. The musical tastes of most of my peers were far different from those of our parents. But I also grew up with a church background. Singing the old hymns and gospel songs was as much a part of my life as watching Wally and Beaver on TV. And I still like those old songs today.

I do enjoy signing the new praise choruses to the Lord. In fact, my wife and I have written some that at least our congregation enjoys singing. But “sing unto the Lord a new song” doesn’t mean we can’t be blessed, comforted, and encouraged by the old songs as well.

I am saddened that many churches have replaced their hymnals with an overhead projector. There is nothing wrong with overhead projectors, as long as there is a balance between the old and the new, ministering to a wide spectrum of people and their needs.

Here are three reasons why I like the old songs:

First, the old songs often reflect significant doctrinal truths. The strains of “A Mighty Fortress is Our God” remind us of God’s faithfulness as penned by the great reformer, Martin Luther.

“Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus” or “Trust and Obey” convey a message far deeper than some of the disconnected phrases in many new choruses.

“Amazing Grace” touches hearts as the personal testimony of John Newton, who witnessed that life-changing grace as God transformed him from a slave trader to a caring pastor.

“Blessed Assurance and “The Solid Rock” illustrate assurance of our salvation through faith in Christ alone.

Certainly not every older hymn or gospel song is filled with doctrinal truth, but the vast majority provide the “meat of the Word” in their message.

Second, the old songs provide a link with past and present generations of Christians. “Does Jesus Care?” written by Frank E. Graeff around the turn of this century, encourages believers facing the 21st century with the words, “O yes, He cares; I know He cares. His heart is touched with my grief. When the days are weary, the long nights dreary, I know my Savior cares.”

As a youngster on the farm I would often walk into the kitchen and hear my mother singing, “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms,” or some other gospel song. Sometimes I’d ride along with my dad in his pickup when he went for supplies. Over the drone of the engine, his rich baritone voice would break out singing, “In times like these, you need a Savior.”

At other times he would sing, “O I want to see Him, look upon His face.” I was reminded of this some years ago when my youngest daughter, who had recently visited my parents, started singing, “O I want to see Him.”

“Jana, where did you learn that song?” I asked, knowing that it wasn’t a song we had sung in church together.

“Grandpa taught it to me,” she answered.

Third, the old songs can present the gospel to people who might not otherwise listen. At more than one funeral I’ve seen adults, hardened by sin, break down and cry as they heard, “On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross, the emblem of suffering and shame.” Such response to this or other old gospel songs is a testimony to their ministry. “I’ve had people remark to me, “Pastor, that was my mother’s favorite song.” This provides an opportunity to discuss their own spiritual condition.

During a brief period of rebellion in my teen years, I could never avoid songs like, “Softly and Tenderly,” “Just as I Am,” or “Pass Me Not.” They seemed to play over and over on the turntable of my conscience, and they held a significant role in my return to the fold. I am convinced the Holy Spirit can use the songs of faith learned in childhood to bring a prodigal back home.

I realize many folks don’t come from a church background, and for them the old hymns and gospel songs may not have significance. But I believe learning some of our hymns would deepen their understanding of the Christian faith and its background.

And for the ever-increasing number of senior citizens in our churches and for youngsters like me who have fond memories of the old songs, let’s continue signing the old along with the new. I hope a new generation of young believers can grow up with a real appreciation for them as well.

Originally published in The Pentecostal Evangel September 1991 International Edition  © Don Detrick, 1991, 2018

 

Tradition: A Slippery Slope

Slippery-SlopeTradition is a slippery slope. We grasp for a handhold and cling to some treasured memory or memento, fearing what might happen if we let go. So we hold on for dear life, not realizing that not far below lies the firm soil of present reality, the best place to safely chart a path to the future.

I am basically a traditionalist. I love history, antiques, and stories from the past. A visit to my office will show you that. But these things must be kept in perspective or they can easily become shrines to what used to be.

Nostalgia always clouds opportunities in the present with the foggy memories of prior success. To worship at the shrine of the past is to plant the seeds of tomorrow’s harvest in the dry, sterile soil of yesterday’s dust. Those seeds might survive as relics in a museum, but in that environment, they will never produce life.

Jesus reserved his harshest criticism for traditionalists, not because of any disrespect for the past. As the, “Alpha and Omega” Jesus had the clearest perspective any human being could possibly have on the past, present, and future. He understood the limitations of viewing time only through our own lens of the present. Jesus criticized traditionalists because of what they enshrined: adherence to a set of rules only they were empowered to interpret and enforce, rather than valuing a vibrant relationship with the living God.

That’s the problem with religious tradition. With the best of intentions, we may wish to preserve a valid object or practice that brought yesterday’s blessing, without realizing that our efforts to do so will be no more successful than Israel’s efforts to preserve yesterday’s portion of manna. Those objects and traditions held over from the past can easily become idols, and distract us from worshipping the living God in the present.

Of course I’m not talking about abandoning our Christian heritage, the inspiration and authority of the Bible, or orthodox doctrine. I am talking about our tendency to consciously or unconsciously promote our own version of the past above those non-negotiable elements of our faith and practice.

A healthy view of tradition values the past for what is was. We learn from it, and move forward. We choose not to live there because we can’t. Those moments are gone forever. It was, but today is and thus is full of promise by acknowledging and accepting the present, and by planting our feet in and sowing seeds in the soil that now exists. We cannot live in a constant state of reminiscence without detachment from reality and eventually becoming critical of everyone and all things contemporary. As R.T. Kendall once observed, “The greatest opposition to what God is doing today comes from those who were on the cutting edge of what God was doing yesterday.”