Forgetting the Words, but Receiving the Promise

I made a comment to someone recently that “Amazing Grace” is the national anthem of the Christian faith. And so it is.

John Newton, a former British slave ship captain, was the unlikeliest among the authors of thousands of Christian hymns, but thankfully he discovered the Truth of Romans 10:9-10. (“That is you shall confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus…”)

Though my father had been a board member in what I would describe as a “high church” for several years, (before eventually discontinuing his allegiance,) and though I’d spoken to him several times about his spiritual life, it was only in the last few months of his 85 years on earth that he seemed to come to a saving knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ.

I was privileged to speak and sing “Amazing Grace” at my father’s memorial service; (perhaps as the result of my having directed the entire affair,) and I have sang this hymn as a solo at other times along the way.

Funny, I had a dream last night which included a scene in which my pastor requested that I sing a song in a church service. I was scheduled to go on after two other soloists. I had planned to sing some miscellaneous Christian song, but as I madly searched through hymn books backstage, I couldn’t locate this selection. And then I lighted on the idea of the world famous hymn, “Amazing Grace.” Not being one who ever sings without copies of the text, I leafed through the volumes before me again; only to discover that, like my preferred song, it was also missing, and making the decision that two soloists would be performing that evening, rather than three.

Over the past few years I have fancied myself an amateur dream interpreter, and since the meaning of dreams should be taken at their simplest, it occurs to me that the foregoing dream is indicative of some slight anxiety that “when the roll is called up yonder (I won’t) be there.”

(Since after all, if you can’t sing the song, you can’t win the prize).

Gladly, I am aware that the salvation which was hard won on the cross by our Savior is not based on whether I am able to remember words of a particular hymn or catechism, or whether, for that matter, if I am always at my very best in this game called “life.”

For I have placed my faith in the atoning death and resurrection of the One who always remembered the right words, Who is, after all, the author of the inspired Word of the ages, and Who created these stammering lips in the first place.

Amazing Grace. How Sweet the Sound that saved a wretch like me.

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 5