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FREEDOM AND BEAUTY

Donna-Jean Breckenridge wrote a column called "Freedom and Beauty" for the monthly Heart Of Home E-zine.

THE HABIT OF PRAISE

by Donna-Jean A. Breckenridge

"Perhaps we do not attach enough importance to the habit of praise in our children's devotions. Praise and thanksgiving come freely from the young heart; gladness is natural and holy, and music is a delight. The singing of hymns at home and of the hymns and canticles in church should be a special delight; and the habit of soft and reverent singing, of offering our very best in praise, should be carefully formed." Charlotte Mason (School Education, p. 143)

"Be filled with the Spirit; speaking to yourselves in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord." Ephesians 5:18b, 19

Two summer Saturdays - and two totally different events.

The first took place in upstate New York, on a day of intense 103-degree heat. It was the funeral service of a young Christian woman, the daughter of dear friends of ours. We had prayed for Susan - prayed that God would spare her life from the cancer that so swiftly overtook her body. Instead, God took her home.

At the service, several friends stood and testified of Susan's love for the Lord, her love for the Word of God, and her love for the children in the Christian school where she taught. There were many moments I will remember as I sat in that un-air-conditioned church during a very unusual heat wave. But there is one that stands out in my mind. It was when the large gathering of friends and family rose to their feet to sing Charles Wesley's great hymn, "And Can It Be That I Should Gain."

Tears came to my eyes as I sang with the congregation, "Alive in Him, my living Head, and clothed in righteousness divine, Bold I approach th'eternal throne, And claim the crown, through Christ my own." Susan had trusted in the Lord Jesus as her Saviour, and although there was grief over her death, there was rejoicing that she was "alive in Him," and standing before Him in heaven. The words of the hymn explained it so beautifully.

A week later, Bill and I sat in another church, this time in Baltimore, Maryland, to witness the wedding of a young couple, just out of college. We had known the groom since he was five years old, and were so grateful for our friendship with his parents. It was a joyous occasion, and the lovely ceremony was very Christ-honoring. Once again, a wonderful moment occurred when the large crowd of 300 guests stood to sing, "Great Is Thy Faithfulness."

Two very different moments: one I pray I will never be called upon to face as a parent, the other I look forward to one day with joy and anticipation. Each event was accompanied by a great hymn of the faith.

I was blessed to have known many hymns as I grew up. When I was a little girl, I loved the singing of "When We All Get To Heaven." The hymn "Jesus Shall Reign" meant the flag procession at our church's annual Missions Conference (and finally being old enough to dress in an international costume and carry a favorite nation's banner!). "Just As I Am" was always sung at invitation time, and was accompanied by tears of happiness over someone's public confession of their new birth in Christ. And when I hear "May The Mind of Christ My Saviour," I am once again a student in Bible College, standing in chapel singing the school hymn.

Other hymns are more familiar to me in another language. Whenever I hear "Thine Be The Glory," I hear it as "A Toi La Gloire," sung by an ensemble of French believers in a tiny chapel in an Alpine village near Grenoble. I was a summer missionary then, and it was the first time I had heard that hymn. I hear "More Secure Is No One Ever" in my mother and my aunt's beautiful voices; they always sang one verse in Swedish as a tribute to the upbringing their brave and godly mother had given them. And "Stand Up, Stand Up for Jesus" rings in my mind in Spanish, from a group of young people in a church in Puerto Rico, where we visited my missionary uncle and his family when I was a little girl.

Children today are not exposed to hymns as much as they used to be. Many churches have a different style of music now, or children are in separate programs with songs geared just for their age. If I want my children to get to know these hymns before they are old enough to sit in church with me, I must be the one to teach them.

I have thought about - and tried - many ways of doing this. We have cassettes of hymns we sometimes play on car trips. My 13-year-old daughter uses our hymnal as the source for her daily copywork, and I, too, have begun to do this in my own special blank book. There is a wonderful refreshment in the beauty of the poetry and the power of the theology these hymns contain.

I am thinking of making a certain meal be the time for a hymn to be sung or a new one to be introduced - the way most breakfasts at our house are for reading the Old Testament, or Tuesday lunch is for our Picture Study.

The strangest way I present hymns to my children, though, is by singing to my two younger children while I floss their teeth at night. Now just the concept of flossing the teeth of a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old seems ludicrous to me. The very last thing I want to do at the end of a long day is to try to pin down these human tornadoes and attempt to put a small strip of grape-flavored floss between every one of their little white baby teeth, top and bottom. But this is what the hygienist (in a fit of sadistic dental fervor, no doubt?) said we needed to do.

After the first week of Mommy playing "Dentist" wore off, I began to sing "O Worship the King," in as many verses as it requires to take care of all the teeth. The other day, I overhead 3-year-old Hannah singing this hymn to herself as she played. I wondered if her mouth felt especially clean as she sang!

But my favorite way to incorporate hymns into the lives of my children is to use them as lullabies. For years, Bethany fell asleep every evening to the last lines of "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus." Nathan, on the other hand, always takes longer to fall asleep, so he usually needs a few more hymns. I did not realize the effect this was having on him until just the other night. I thought I was finished with my little mini-concert, and I started to get up. Nathan was quiet, eyes half shut, and about to drift off, when he whispered, "Sing "Like A River Glorious," Mama."

And so in the darkness, with the dim glow of the night-light, I sang to my son, "Stayed upon Jehovah, Hearts are fully blest; Finding as He promised, Perfect peace and rest." Nathan was not the only one blessed.

The habit of praise: it is one that enriches the life, and nourishes the soul. It is worth developing!

A LOVE OF THE WORD

by Donna-Jean A. Breckenridge

"What is required of us is that we should implant a *love* of the Word, that the most delightful moments of the child's day should be those in which his mother reads for him, with sweet sympathy and holy gladness in voice and eyes, the beautiful stories of the Bible..." Charlotte Mason (Home Education, p. 349)

"O how I love thy law! it is my meditation all the day...How sweet are thy words unto my taste! yea, sweeter than honey to my mouth!" Psalm 119:97, 103

He was not a fiery preacher or possessed of an outgoing personality. I sometimes wondered if he hated the limelight as much as it appeared - although his rich baritone voice was always a vital part of the school's annual rendition of Handel's "Messiah" (I can still hear him singing the "Refi-i-i-i-i-i-ner's Fire" part!).

But when I think of Dr. Kallam, who was the Academic Dean of my Bible college and the father of my friends, it is not his chapel sermons nor his Christmas solos that I remember. It is how he read the Word of God.

I was required to take a course he offered on "Johannine Epistles." The class was scheduled for evening, and my attitude rebelled against it from the very start. I did not want to be in a basement classroom whose high windows were filled with inky darkness instead of the usual sunlight. I wanted to be with my friends "studying" (or pretending to be studying), not feeling like I was being punished and forced to stay way-too-long after school. It was a privilege to go to college, and I am ashamed now that I felt that way. But it is the simple truth that I thought I had more exciting things I could be doing on a Thursday night than sitting at that small mini-desk on the far right side, halfway back, in Room 3 of

Whittle Hall. My opinion of the whole thing was about to change, however.

I recall opening my spiral notebook, rummaging for a pen, and shifting in my seat, half-listening as Dr. Kallam was speaking. The words seemed vaguely familiar. He spoke in a normal voice, even a casual voice - the same kind voice I had heard him use with his children or to greet a friend. Then it dawned on me - he was reading straight from I John! God's Word had become his words, they were natural, joyous, life-giving - and I was spellbound.

It was, in many ways, a very ordinary moment that had become holy, and I remember it twenty years later with intense clarity.

And suddenly, I am back in the present - a homeschooling mom of three children, whose greatest desire in life is to impart to them a love for the Word of God. But how do I do it?

I have thought about Dr. Kallam and his meaningful delivery when I have sat at the breakfast table reading aloud through Genesis and now Exodus in our study of the Old Testament. My two younger children cannot read yet, so their understanding of the Bible comes solely through what I tell them. They hear God's Words in my voice. If I am rushed, they hear that I think it needs to be dispensed with quickly. If I am a monotone, they hear that I find it boring.

God's Word is powerful, I know, and can speak to my children without any dramatic rendition on my part. Yet I am God's "living epistle" before these three. They will hear if the voice that reads the Scriptures in the morning is the same voice that says "I love you" and laughs with joy over a shared moment in the afternoon - or if it is the same voice that scolds, nags, complains, and even yells all throughout the day.

My children will know if the words I read match up with the life I live - or if our Bible time is just another exercise to check off on a chart or to add to a record book.

It's late as I write this. It's a warm spring night with the window open and my kitchen table is covered with my notebook, a volume of Charlotte Mason, a mug of now-cold tea, a blue pitcher full of fragrant lilacs, and my well-worn Bible. In just a few short hours (too few, it always seems!), my husband and I will gather around this same table with our three children. I have not decided if I will serve eggs, oatmeal, or cereal - but I know that the recipe for the soul will include the next few plagues of Egypt.

How will I communicate to Bethany, Nathan, and Hannah the miraculous power of God, the sin-hardened heart of Pharaoh, the bold faith of a once-timid Moses? ... by reading those words just as they are: the literal expression of the mind of the Almighty.

I pray my voice, my demeanor, my very life will not be an obstacle, but rather will be an accurate portrayal of my own enthusiastic convictions; convictions I hope they, too, will share.

It is time to clear away my books and papers and set the table. As I put out the placemats and ponder the morning's nourishment, I mix up in my mind the echo of a Bible College professor, a historical event from 3500 years ago, and some truths from the reaches of eternity - and I feel a new confidence over the menu.

I think my children are going to love it.