As the Deer -- Dennis Jernigan

 

Almost 34 years had elapsed, but he still remembered. Perhaps in some ways, Dennis Jernigan would prefer to not have such a good memory of a time such as that day, May 26^th, 1987. And yet, that special time when he was a 28-year-old, and felt so distressed that he described himself as a wild animal with a desperate need for water – that’s when Dennis metaphorically thought of himself “As the Deer”, searching for a drink (perhaps not unlike the deer that walked through my neighborhood one recent morning, see picture). It was something he didn’t keep private, but shared with his Creator as he read an example written by an ancient poet, a person with whom Dennis felt camaraderie. That old poet also felt downcast, so Dennis says he drew upon the ageless work of that song-maker for sustenance. And, then he’s gone about telling others about that day, with a version of his own psalm from the Sons of Korah (Psalm 42).

 

In his podcast on March 29, 2021, Dennis Jernigan talked about the day in May 1987 as if it were yesterday. He admits, as anyone who’s in a deep pit might also do, that he thought for a time that the most refreshing answer to his misery might be death. That this episode happened just before he really began to make his journey with published music for others to hear (beginning in 1989) says something about the authenticity of Dennis’ song story. This was his own way out of that desert, a method he now ardently recommends others employ. And yet, Dennis is quick to relate that he doesn’t think of himself as really emerging from the dry time, but instead just discovered that God was still with him. That’s how he found – or rather, in whom he found – nourishment. His very life depended on finding that God was with him, and by drawing on His deep well. Dennis began the podcast by also sharing the story of another person who felt downcast, because she was an outcast. The Samaritan woman at the well (John 4) evidently was someone with whom Dennis also identified. Dennis’s life journey has brought him through struggle, as a man trying to understand his own past and the homosexual lifestyle he had chosen for a time (he left that lifestyle in 1981). You can read about this in his book Giant Killers. He’s adamant that Jesus has been the only answer for the thirst he had, and still has, and that realizing this has been transformative. That’s why the Samaritan woman at the well is a story that resonates with Dennis; she was searching for happiness and meaning in all the wrong ways, and Jesus tells her that He can give her the only water that will satisfy (John 4:15). Dennis’ message is simple: you can get out of the pit of despair, but you and I need the God-man continually for the wherewithal to live here and in the eternal future.  

 

In the ‘maskil’ (perhaps a musical or literary term) psalm that the Korahites wrote, and the one that Dennis echoes, you don’t have to guess what these writers feel. Most of the ‘maskils’ (see especially the 7/28/2008 and 5/15/2009 blog entries for more discussion of this) indicate these poets felt a despondency that they salved with their prayers and songs to God. Is that implicit in the term ‘maskil’? Short answer: we don’t know. But, Dennis, and you, and I can know for certain that He hears. Part of the hearing, it seems, is that others with whom we walk and talk every day also have things with which they grapple. Nothing is outta bounds when it comes to relating to each other. We all need each other’s understanding, and the God who will ultimately heal all of those hurts. If Dennis has done this, so can you and I. We all need and have access to the water He has.   

 

See this link for a podcast in which the author shares the song’s story: http://podcast.dennisjernigan.com/e/as-the-deer-thirsts-for-the-water/

 

Read more about the author here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dennis_Jernigan

 

And, here also: Dennis Jernigan | About DJ

I Will Sing of the Mercies of the Lord – James or Fred Fillmore, Ethan the Ezrahite

What kind of education might have been intended so long ago, and was sought after centuries later, in the words of an ancient psalm by a fellow named Ethan? He began “I Will Sing of the Mercies of the Lord”, as he mulled over the circumstances that brought him to put ink to paper. The situation was in fact the opposite of what would make an ordinary person offer such an exclamation to God. Some 2,400 years later, could it have been possible that two brothers, musical successors to the psalmist whose words they read, were seeking instruction too? This praiseworthy phrase’s background induces the worshipper to reconsider why one would extol Him.

It began in a time when the people of God were being threatened and finally exiled, and then continued centuries later. Psalm 89 begins with the words of this song, suggesting that its author -- probably a Levite named Ethan, according to this psalm’s superscription – had experienced a great blessing from the Lord. But, in fact the rest of Ethan’s words, particularly the latter one-third of them, paint a much darker picture, one in which the Almighty has seen fit to punish and cause the downfall of His people. The historical episode in fact may have been the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar’s attack and subjugation of the people of Jerusalem, around the year 597 B.C. (See picture here of a coin with Nebuchadnezzar’s picture on it.)

In context, therefore, how does one interpret Ethan’s words? Is he offering praise in a plea for God’s renewed favor? The psalm’s superscription also contains ‘maskil’, a word that may be musical in purpose; but, it may also indicate the composer’s purpose was to teach us something about godliness.  What might Ethan have learned about Him, about His nature? That He experiences pain and disappointment with his children, and dispenses discipline, even at the risk of His own divine reputation, is a lesson not exclusive to Ethan’s generation, certainly. Did James and Fred Fillmore intend this same message when they recaptured Ethan’s words in the late 1800’s in Cincinnati, Ohio? I cry out in pain that He is pure, and I seek His intervention, His Divine help. I’ve forsaken Him, I admit, even as I hope my cries may yet move Him to mercy.  

Ethan’s lesson is not an easy one. And, if we could talk to him, he might further lament that God’s mercy doesn’t work according to the human timetable. It was several decades until some of the people were allowed back to Jerusalem. In God’s estimation, it must have taken that long for His purpose to sink in with His people. There’s a point in any mortal’s life, perhaps when the inescapability of God can no longer be denied – He exists, and I have nowhere else to turn – that I submit. Am I there yet? Are you?  

The source for the song story is the book “The Complete Book of Hymns – Inspiring Stories About 600 Hymns and Praise Songs”, by William J. and Ardythe Petersen, 2006. Also, see the New International Version Study Bible, general editor Kenneth Barker, 1985, copyright The Zondervan Corporation, for notes on Psalm 89 and the song’s original biblical-era composer.

You Are My Hiding Place -- Michael Ledner

Michael Ledner felt really vulnerable as he reflected on his circumstances one day in 1980. He couldn’t ignore how he felt, though he was a firm believer in the One to whom he turned as he sat on a bed with a guitar and his bible close by. “You Are My Hiding Place”, he called out to God, using the words of David, his ancient spiritual compatriot who likewise sought Him who can reassure the lonely. He wasn’t completely certain he wanted to dwell in this place, however, or if he wanted to share with others the feelings the song evoked. It was a private moment. It took his travelling halfway around the globe to discover others needed to link with that intimacy, to rest in the comfort He offers.

Up and out of the pit came Michael Ledner, from a low moment into a broader appreciation for His God and the life he began to experience after this difficult period. Ledner was separated from his wife at the time and living in a tiny room in Arizona, so small that it must have been easy for him to feel isolated and forgotten. But, he clung to something – or rather, someone -- one day as he read Psalms and strummed his guitar. King David’s Psalms 32 (one of the ‘maskil’ Psalms) and 56 provided the inspiration that Michael needed, as he pondered and worshipped alone, but not without purpose. He’d often turned to music, not unlike his predecessor whose words struck him and provided the prose Michael used to vocalize his own hiding place, some three millennia later. (David sometimes sought physical refuge in a cave, not too unlike the manmade one shown here, along a coastal area in Israel.)

But, as he reflected for some time afterwards, he wondered how wise it would be to share his feelings. Was he being a weakling?  He recorded the song for himself a couple of different times, including once with a few friends, but he didn’t really share it otherwise in churches he visited for a while. It was still a difficult part of his life, as his marriage finally and permanently dissolved. Many months later, he was in David’s homeland, and again he shared the song with some visiting friends. Unbeknownst to him initially, they took the song back home, where it found wide acceptance; a formal recording by Maranatha Music soon ensued. From a private, difficult moment, to another where his experience found broad camaraderie with other believers, this was a sweet turnaround for Ledner. It was his renewal moment, and his life progressed positively after that. Many years later, he’d become a pastor and was married again, feeling as though he’d learned a valuable lesson from the day he sat in a small room with his guitar, bible, and feelings he didn’t want at the time.

Don’t run away, or try to ignore the pain – that perhaps best sums up what Michael Ledner discovered from a challenging episode in his late 20’s. He wasn’t alone after all. There’s no place to hide, but there is a person who can hide me. Seems kinda strange to realize this, until you understand, as Ledner probably did, that hiding in a place only makes you lonely. Hiding in a person is radically different.    

Sources for the song story are the books “Celebrate Jesus: The Stories behind Your Favorite Praise and Worship Songs”, by Phil Christensen and Shari MacDonald, Kregel Publications, 2003; and “The Complete Book of Hymns – Inspiring Stories About 600 Hymns and Praise Songs”, by William J. and Ardythe Petersen, 2006.

As the Deer - Marty Nystrom

Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. (Psalm 42:7)


Marty Nystrom has courage. He’s also human. Why? He admits that the song “As the Deer” he wrote in 1981 sprang from an incident in his life in which he was not spiritually motivated…at least not at its beginning. His song’s words make us think ‘this composer must have really been close to God’, as we sing of panting and longing for Him. But, this is where knowing the song story really helps me get in touch with how I, like others before me, can draw close to the Lord. It begins in a desert, in which I’m pretty distant from the Holy One. That’s where I must begin? That’s what Nystrom’s experience suggests. The Psalm he read (Psalm 42) that helped him vocalize his journey to draw closer is a “maskil”, a further lesson for us believers who hear his story and compare it to other ‘maskil’ Psalms. In short, from a pit where we may find ourselves, God can perhaps use us most effectively.


Marty Nystrom travelled to Dallas, Texas in the summer of 1981, because he was chasing…God? No, a girl. And, when his heart was broken over her, he bemoaned where he was stuck. It was a hot time of year (when is summertime in Dallas not hot?!), and he admits he might have gone home, except that “I didn’t have a ticket.” Amazingly, he took a friend’s advice to fast, to consume nothing but water as a way to draw himself back toward God. After 19 days Nystrom was in a pit, physically, not completely unlike what other Psalmists must have felt when they wrote ‘maskils’ (like Psalms 32, 42, 44-45, 52-55, 74, 78, 88-89, and 142). It’s a cry out to God. Now, Nystrom’s hurt over a girl might not seem as serious as some of the life-threatening episodes in the maskils we can read. But, if you’ve ever been in his shoes, you know what it’s like to be in a dump, emotionally. That’s where Marty Nystrom was in the early summer of 1981, and then later, after being nourished for many days with only water and the Spirit, he sat at a piano and read the words of Psalm 42. Nystrom’s song story has another twist. The words and the melody that he composed, though he couldn’t have known this, resonate in a special way with people on the opposite side of the globe from the song’s birthplace. In Korea, for instance, a worship conference that Nystrom attended in the 1990s began with 100,000 Koreans singing “As the Deer”. Amazing, or just routine when God has someone’s attention in a pit?


Marty Nystrom’s experience shows me again that God, when he’s trying to speak to me, takes away things that distract me. He won’t shout above the noise in my life, which might even be another person that I think He’s directed my way. But, if I can isolate myself from my surroundings, even if it hurts, that’s where He is. It might be tough on this planet with billions of people, but Nystrom’s chronicle tells me solitude is a valuable, even sacred goal. Perhaps that’s what 100,000 Koreans were hearing in this Texas desert tune.


 Information on Marty Nystrom’s story obtained from “Our God Reigns: The Stories behind Your Favorite Praise and Worship Songs”, by Phil Christensen and Shari MacDonald, Kregel Publications, 2000. A shorter version of Nystrom’s song story is in “The Complete Book of Hymns: Inspiring Stories About 600 Hymns and Praise Songs”, by William J. and Ardythe Petersen, Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., 2006.

Precious Lord, Take My Hand -- Thomas Dorsey

He was an accomplished blues pianist and music minister at a Baptist church in 1930s Chicago, but Thomas Dorsey had plenty of reasons to grieve and surrender to depression. When his wife and newborn son died in 1932, Dorsey might have quit then, giving in to the physical reminders in the depression-era city-life around him and to his own deep emotional pit. He went to perform at a revival meeting, and while preparing to sing there one night, he learned his wife had died while delivering their child. Dorsey wonders himself how he was able to go on that night, while others around him, unaware of his tragedy, were rejoicing in song. Maybe, as the Psalmist writes (Psalm 42:7), this was when Dorsey’s pain, crying out to God, tapped into the strength that only He can provide. “Deep calls to deep” the Psalmist writes, and he also adds a term at this psalm’s beginning that has puzzled me, until I thought about it and read some more Psalms like it, and thought some more about Dorsey and his experience. (I have provided a link to Dorsey’s complete story below, as it relates his experience most powerfully.) It seems like his story is like this Psalm term….


Consider the term ‘maskil’, when you read the Psalms. Perhaps you’ve never heard of it, and have read over it in the superscription of some Psalms without noticing it, as I did. It’s a Hebrew word, which my Bible’s commentary says probably indicates the Psalm with this obscure word contains an instruction in godliness. There are 13 Psalms that are maskils (Psalms 32, 42, 44-45, 52-55, 74, 78, 88-89, and 142), and in most of them the Psalmist is crying out to God, in anguish. Like Thomas Dorsey must have been doing in the 1930s. So, if I am to learn something from a maskil, it seems I must wail, and I must be very desperate for God. But it blows me away to think that when I’m an emotional wreck, that’s when I am more godly, if I believe what the maskil Psalms seem to be communicating. Dorsey was, understandably, a wreck emotionally, and even withdrew from his music for a time in the wake of his loss. But, left alone with nothing but himself and a piano one evening, Dorsey composed this potent song “Precious Lord, Take My Hand”. It’s not hard to imagine him being in that room with just the music and his God. Dorsey says the tune just came to him from nowhere, and he felt peaceful…with the God he could have blamed for his struggle. As I read the very personal cries of Dorsey’s words, they say something I can identify in my life too.


 When I read the words Dorsey wrote in verse one of his contemporary maskil, he’s anxious for God’s presence – begging for communion with the Holy One, longing for home. That sounds a lot like Jesus’ cry when He was torn from His Father’s presence (Matt. 27:46; Mark 15:34). None of us naturally equate tragedy with opportunity, but the maskils I read have me reconsidering life’s troubles. And, an article a friend and church leader sent me recently proposes that churches can and should be ministering to saddened worshippers, helping them navigate through calamity. The point of recognizing sadness and hurt when we sing is not to be maudlin, nor to wallow in self-pity. …it’s to call upon the one who can help, as the Psalmists did. If we avoid admitting these feelings when we worship, how genuine are we toward each other, and do we really trust that God hears us? Thomas Dorsey’s song has power because it’s authentic, and when we sing it together as God’s body, we minister to each other’s wounds. A maskil draws me toward God, where my burden and God’s become one, and my life is renewed by His. That’s what happened for Thomas Dorsey, and amazingly for the rest of us music-lovers, and God worshippers too, when we think about and sing this composition . Dorsey’s song, a ministry to himself in his hurt, has been translated into 32 languages, and he admits was his greatest effort. It’s amazing what God can do through us from the bottom of a deep pit.

You can link to the song’s story as written in ChristianityToday.com here http://www.christianitytoday.com/tc/2003/004/16.16.html

You can link to the article about churches, and celebration versus sadness in our worship here http://www.christianitytoday.com/le/2007/002/17.64.html