Up from the Gravy?

Like a lot of Christians my age, I learned the old hymns at church before I learned to read. Every Easter Sunday, I’d enjoy singing along to the rousing rendition of “Up from the Gravy.” While the lyrics puzzled me, I loved the deep, somber dirge of each stanza that suddenly leapt joyously into the chorus like a trumpet blast. I could never figure out how a rose could grow out of a pot of gravy, but I could tell it was a triumphant event worthy of celebration.

This and many other hymns were written by Robert Lowry (1826-1899), a Philadelphia-born author and composer and a popular Baptist preacher who served churches in Pennsylvania, New York, and New Jersey. People knew Lowry as a brilliant Bible scholar and a captivating orator with a wonderful ability to paint word pictures with which to inspire a congregation. 

Robert Lowry

I suppose he never knew how many little kids created the image of a long-stemmed rose growing up out of a gravy boat.

When I finally learned to read the words for myself, I gained a new understanding of the song:

“Up from the grave he arose!” (Oh! Not gravy. Who knew?)
“With a mighty triumph o’er his foes;
He arose a victor from the dark domain,
And he lives forever with his saints to reign.
He arose! He arose! Hallelujah! Christ arose!”

Hymnologist Kenneth Osbeck wrote this account of the composition of the gospel song: “Following his reflection on the resurrection as recorded in Luke 24:6-8, ‘Lowry found himself seated at the little pump organ in the parlor of his home, and, in a very spontaneous fashion, there came forth the music and the words, giving expression to the thoughts that had been uppermost in his mind.’”

The three stanzas of this old hymn basically convey the same message three different ways. “Lo, in the grave he lay, waiting the coming day…Vainly, they watch his bed, vainly they seal the dead…Death cannot keep his prey, he tore the bars away.” Each time, the same slow dirge breaks into the triumphant chorus. As an adult, I can more fully appreciate not only the musical genius of the two opposing parts, but the real reason we can’t help but celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ as Lord of Life.

Darkness thought it won that bleak Friday. I’m sure it felt that way to the followers of Jesus, too. Just like it feels to you when you’re faced with untold sorrow, grief, or pain. When you can’t understand why bad things happen. When it seems all is lost. Darkness has won.

Easter is our reminder that, though battles still rage, the ultimate war was won long ago by Jesus Christ when he conquered death so that we can, too.

You know that feeling when your team is down by ten points at the end of the game? When you’re watching a great movie and the hero is in an impossible situation with no rescue in sight? You know that feeling when your team suddenly scores and you realize they’ve won the game against all odds? When the hero’s last great effort finishes off the villain once and for all? Multiply that feeling by about a gazillion, because that’s the truth of Easter. Now go celebrate.

You may even want a little gravy.

 

Two Visions, One Cross

George Bennard, son of a tavern owner, was born in Ohio in 1873. At the age of 22, Bennard stepped into the Christian faith through the ministry of the Salvation Army. By 1898, he was a traveling evangelist. He held revival meetings until his retirement more than 30 years later.

While speaking at one of these meetings in Michigan in 1912, Bennard was heckled mercilessly by several youth. In his deep concern for these boys, he reflected on the cross of Jesus as recorded in scripture.

“I seemed to have a vision,” he reported. “I saw the Christ and the cross inseparable.”

Bennard’s vision led him to write the first verse of a new hymn. Several months later, he added three more verses. Its first performance, in the living room of a pastor in Pokagon, Michigan, moved its audience to tears. On June 7, 1913, the hymn was incorporated into a revival service for the first time, with guitar accompaniment.

The church in which they met was a former hops barn. Today, that building welcomes thousands of visitors each year. It’s owned by a non-profit group called The Old Rugged Cross Foundation. You can guess why.

Fast forward to November of 2020. Jules Glanzer, President of Tabor College in Hillsboro, Kansas, is in an ICU ward fighting Covid-19. While still recovering, he was able to write about his amazing experience in an article that appeared in the Christian Leader online magazine on February 1, 2021.

“I was standing in front of a very large cross, rising hundreds of feet into the air, square wood and brown in color. It was blocking everything. I sensed that behind me was the world and everything that pertained to living on earth. I had an incredible sense of total forgiveness, deep assurance of salvation and a peaceful serenity.

“It was clear that this was the cross of Jesus. It was not a pretty cross.

“I remember thinking, ‘Everything in this world ends at the cross. The gate of heaven is a cross.’ I sensed that if I stepped into the cross, I would be on the other side and that I would see Jesus.”

Glanzer wrote about how 2020 and his Covid-19 experience has motivated him to reset his life based on five words that were impressed upon his heart: contentment, gratitude, simplicity, smallness and focused.

Jules Glanzer is married to my husband’s cousin, so I read his story with great interest. It brought to mind George Bennard’s vision and hymn. “The Old Rugged Cross” remains one of the most cherished hymns of the Christian faith, especially on Good Friday. You can find it in most hymnals and recorded by numerous contemporary Christian artists. 

On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross
The emblem of suffering and shame.
And I love that old cross where the dearest and best
For a world of lost sinners was slain.

So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross
Till my trophies at last I lay down
I will cling to the old rugged cross
And exchange it some day for a crown. 

 

Spring Cleaning 101

Way back in the late 1900’s, when our cubs still lived with us and I only thought I knew what tired felt like, I used to spring clean. Every April. I’d dedicate a whole day to each room, one day after the other, until I’d made my way from one end of our home to the other. And boy, did I have a system!

Step 1: Starting as early in the morning as possible, put supper in the crock pot and crank up some inspiring music. Find a garbage bag for discard items and a box for donations.

Step 2: Strip the room of everything you can carry. Pictures, lamps, books, ornaments—all go to a different room. Anything that can go through the washer—curtains, blankets, cushions, throw rugs—does, and then hangs on the clothesline the rest of the day.

Step 3: If the room includes cupboards, closets, or drawers, do those first, one at a time. Empty, clean, replace contents in a tidy fashion.

Step 4: Go around wiping down walls, windows, baseboards, light fixtures, furniture, and finally, the floor. At this point maybe rearrange furniture for something different.

Step 5: One by one, clean each item taken out of that room and return it to its place. Except, of course, discards and donations.

Step 6: Return the items from the clothesline to their rightful places. Haul out the trash and load the donation box into the car. Call it a day. Enjoy supper and a clean room. (Until the cubs tramp through with muddy feet … or squish a mosquito on the wall … or press noses up against windows.)

My system was ingenious, really. An effective cure for which there is no known disease.

Then the cubs left and found dens of their own. We moved. Springs began to come around faster and faster. One day I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I’d performed my annual ritual.

This year, with nowhere to go, I devised a plan to tackle the spring cleaning once again. I counted rooms and Saturdays. If I started in mid-February and devoted one Saturday to each room, I could finish by the May long weekend when it’ll be time to focus on garden and yard work. I even allowed myself two Saturdays for the kitchen.

By the end of my first Saturday, I’d finished four cupboards and felt like I’d lost a wrestling match with Mr. Clean. And that was with a nap. Twenty cupboards remained, not to mention the fridge and stove. At this rate, spring cleaning would take me all year. Granny warned me old age ain’t no place for sissies.

The next Saturday, I cleaned about half the remaining cupboards. I was never this stiff and sore at the end of my cleaning sessions back in the day.

The third Saturday, I finished the kitchen and vowed never to clean my oven—or any oven—again, as long as I live. SO not worth it. (By the way, “Cleanliness is next to godliness” is NOT from the Bible.)

I moved on to the bathroom the next Saturday and felt a bit less weary afterward. Do you think my stamina is increasing?

Last Saturday, I tackled the living/dining room. Since the furniture in that room is “one arrangement only,” I told hubby I’d love fresh flowers for the table and then said, “Oh, what a nice surprise!” when he brought some home.

If I survive the rest of my spring cleaning, I think I’ll create a new, one-step system: When the urge to clean surfaces, lie down until the urge goes away.

Psalm 51:10. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”