Money. Should it have been a surprise that the loss of it would
most certainly create some apprehension? Was Erastus Johnson maybe even anticipating
that such an episode might one day call upon many that shared his faith? The words
Erastus composed one day to call out to “The Rock That Is Higher Than I” (sometimes
known by its first line, ‘Oh! Sometimes the Shadows Are Deep’) came so swiftly,
that one might suspect he was already pondering a deeper issue than the loss of
the dollar in multiple quantities. Were the people of his era too reliant on
profits and livelihood; had the Fortress of their spirits been shoved aside? A
crisis, though unwelcome, did usher in a renewed sense of their Rock’s
importance, and that His presence could strengthen all who would encounter the
valleys of terrestrial life.
Erastus Johnson was 45 when he wrote “The Rock That Is
Higher Than I” in 1871, during a financial crisis that affected many of the
participants at a YMCA convention in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. His own
recollection of the episode indicates even the president of the convention was
not immune to this disaster. Perhaps it was this man’s (John Wanamaker) extreme
financial calamity – reportedly, the loss of some 70,000 dollars – and his
reaction to it that made the event so memorable. Erastus was looking upon the
faces, hearing their words, and discerning the collective mood of the
convention’s delegates to surmise that a pall hung over them all. And so,
Johnson acknowledged this in his penned words, comparing the trials of this time
to deep shadows and tempests (verse 1). In
verse two, Erastus has transformed the shadows of verse 1 to shadows that are
more like shade to a tired traveler on a dusty road. This intervening divine presence
has assumed a constant position in the mortal’s life by verse three (‘…near to
the Rock let me keep’). The repeated use of ‘Rock’ in the refrain is moreover
an emphasis on whom the author saw as the foundation of hope and deliverance. God
as his rock was not just a casual reminder of this truth, but someone to whom
he could ‘fly’, as someone might do breathlessly in desperation after a
headlong sprint. These friends of Erastus were in deep distress, gasping for
air as drowning men might do in a deep pool of water. It’s said that the convention’s
president asked for Johnson’s song – which he’d written on the spot and given
to a composer for accompanying music at the event – numerous times. A crisis
might have enveloped Carlisle, Pennsylvania, but maybe the men at this site also
sensed that a balm, perhaps even a turning point in their collective spirits,
was at hand.
If the fellows at Carlisle in 1871 had found some method for
managing their gloom by singing about Erastus Johnson’s Rock to who they could
fly, perhaps they kept using that technique as the decade continued. For, the financial
struggles of 1871 continued for many more years, probably throwing many others
into panic as a general depression set in across the North American continent
and in Europe. Did Erastus see this coming? Can any of us really imagine what
it’s like to lose one’s life savings, and live hand-to-mouth every day? The
Israelites could tell us a little about this lifestyle (Exodus through Deuteronomy).
Some men sound the alarm and stand with mouths agape. Others write poetry, and
stand with arms wide apart to find a holy embrace. Which one do you think was
Erastus Johnson…and which one are you?
See this site for the song’s story and all three original
verses, and some biographic information on the author: http://www.hymntime.com/tch/htm/r/o/c/rockhigh.htm
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