The story
wasn’t his own, but it moved him nevertheless. Ira Forest Stanphill sat
spellbound by the missionary couple’s story, so drawn to what they’d experienced
that he couldn’t forget it the next morning as he sat at a piano and poured his
emotions into the song “Follow Me” one day in 1953. Now, the memory of that
experience doesn’t have to remain distant. Like an aroma that stirs recollection
of something with a unique taste, making the mouth water in anticipation, this
song’s words probably reminded those two missionaries of their challenges and how
they endured. Perhaps knowing the story’s background will resonate with others
who’ve labored similarly (with a mental picture of a missionary, like that
shown here), and wondered if it was worth the effort.
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He was a
39-year old singing preacher, who’d been conducting his own ministry for many
years when he heard a story by Charles Greenaway at a Texas conference in 1953.
The Greenaways (Charles and his wife
Mary) had been young missionaries in Africa, and Ira Stanphill, as any minister
committed to God’s work would do, probably expected to hear something interesting
and informative from them as he attended the Grand Prairie conference one
evening. Maybe he got more than he bargained for, because the story made its
way onto a song sheet the next day, through his own tears. The Greenaways didn’t
think Africa was for them at first, those many years earlier. Mary was sick, an
irony that probably was not lost on her and Charles, who had gone to help people
there through a medical missionary effort they were eager to use as a springboard
to introduce God to the people. It seemed that the physical needs of the locals
were so great, however, that no room was left for the deeper spiritual food
they wanted to dispense too. And with Mary laid low, Charles’ spirit called out
‘Lord, send us somewhere else!’ He sensed God’s answer, a gentle but firm reminder
that Jesus had likewise felt the sting of apathy and rejection. Do as He did,
they sensed, and leave the rest to Him. That’s faith, putting it simply -- not
seeing the logic or tangible effects of one’s efforts, but showing up anyway. Eventually,
the Greenaways saw the spiritual fruit they longed to harvest. From one
minister to another, Charles Greenaway’s story washed over Ira Stanphill. Were Ira
Stanphill’s nerves tingling? Did he hear something that his own 17 years of
ministry had imprinted on him – a commitment to patient endurance, being a tool
for Him?
Maybe Ira
connected personally with something Charles said, or perhaps he just felt the
impact of this couple’s zeal and their potent story. We can ask Ira later (since
he died in 1993) what it was especially that made his tears flow the next
morning as he thought about the Greenaways’ African experience. Stanphill certainly
identified with messaging to other cultures, as he preached in 40 different
countries outside of the U.S. before expiring at the age of 79. “Follow Me”
took Stanphill lots of places that he probably wouldn’t have gone otherwise.
The words he wrote – loneliness, sacrifice, burdens, and misplaced pride –
suggest he needed an experience like the Greenaways bore to hone his
ministerial aptitude, too. Hang tough, and know the intimate fellowship with
Him that comes along the coarse, uneven path. A missionary might even travel a violent
road. He didn’t promise it’d be easy. But, just imagine what a now-departed
missionary is tasting right now. It’ll be worth it, won’t it?
The primary
source for the story on this song is the book Stories Behind Popular Songs
and Hymns, by Lindsay Terry, Baker Book House, 1990. Also, see more
information on the composer in Amazing Grace: 366 Inspiring Hymn Stories for
Daily Devotions by Kenneth W. Osbeck, Kregel Publications, 1990, and 101
More Hymn Stories, by Kenneth W. Osbeck, Kregel Publications, 1985.
3 comments:
In the early '70's my wife and I sang this song. It blessed my spirit then and even now as I think about or sing the words. I think the message is: "Do what you can for the Lord and He will bless it."
The year was 1968 and I was a new Christian; having accepted the Lord Jesus Christ as my Savior the previous year, (and the summer after my high school graduation). Not one to waste a great deal of time, I had enrolled at a nearby Bible college; (which in the intervening decades metamorphosed into a Christian liberal arts university in which I was subsequently privileged to teach).
As the student body sat in chapel one morning, whomever happened to be charge of the service stepped forward and instructed the sound person to play a pre-recorded song. Suddenly, the strains of an unfamiliar hymn filled the auditorium, and a baritone voice began to sing the most poignant words,
“I traveled down a lonely road and no one seemed to care
The burden on my weary back had bowed me to despair,
I oft complained to Jesus how folks were treating me
And then these words He spoke so tenderly…”
There was just something so compelling about the words of the old song; which went beyond the rhyme, content and meter. The expressiveness and experiential tenor of the words lent such an eloquence to the theme which he attempted to express to his audience.
It seems to me the student body sat spellbound, as the three verses to the hymn played themselves out. As I reflect on it now, an almost ‘holy hush’ permeated the building that morning.
As the closing notes of our unseen guest and accompanying piano echoed across the chapel, and silence permeated the room, our college president walked to the podium, and provided the students a bit of information to which they had not been privy, ‘til now.
“The voice you just heard was owned by a missionary named J.W. Tucker. He is no longer with us, but died at the hands of Maoist rebels in Africa just four years ago.”
Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather. There was just something so personally poignant having just been exposed to the song, and having just connected with the man who sang it; and to be informed that he had lain down his life for the Gospel of the Lord whom he had so dearly loved.
Almost half a century has come and gone since that day, and I have often reflected on the words of that old hymn by Ira Stanphill, and its relevance to every Christian who ever lived and moved and breathed upon this planet. And over the course of the past few decades I have often sung it as a solo, and never fail to relate the story behind my personal association with it.
It was in the early 1960's when I was a preteen that I started playing the piano seriously. I played Stamps Baxter, all the old favorites besides them, and what I could find in the new songbooks I would buy wherever I could find them. I came across "Follow Me" and was immediately struck with its message. So much so that even though I hated memorization of music (hatred of piano recitals), I wanted badly to be able to play this without the music. So I memorized this wonderful song. I played it nearly every time I sat down at a piano. I played it for preludes, offertories, postludes, funerals, and wherever. I felt even the music itself was impactful. I also sing, which made playing and singing something that I did often. Today, I am 67 years old. It has been a mainstay to my faith and a prayer to my God all these years. I still play it often, even though it is to God mostly now. It still brings tears to my eyes and a wretch in my heart to think of my arrogance, complaining, and distrust that I have given God over my life. But knowing that Jesus still loves me, has a plan, and will be there for an eternity for me fills me with joy and appreciation. My funeral will definitely have it featured.
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