We started singing hymns to our kids when they were infants. There’s a comfort in those old words and tunes, and they’ve offered me a bit more mental and spiritual stimulation than yet another round of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” when I inevitably get asked for “one more song, Mommy.”
It’s no wonder, then, that the lyrics of these hymns seeped into the minds and memories of my children early. The first time I heard our oldest daughter singing along to “Great is Thy Faithfulness” in her most grown up toddler voice, it was all I could do to keep singing through my tears. It’s cute to hear them sing the little Sunday school ditties of my childhood or burst out with a rendition of “Let It Go.” But get one of those children of mine singing an old hymn, rich in theology and promise—and it undoes me. They don’t begin to grasp the truth they’re singing about:
Great is Thy Faithfulness
O God, My Father
There is no shadow of turning with Thee.
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not.
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided.
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.
Unaccustomed to the archaic formal language, my children usually refer to this hymn confidently as “Great Is My Faithfulness.” The first time I heard them call it this, I chuckled—and then inwardly groaned.
For them, it’s a simple stumble over old-fashioned language. For the rest of us, we would call this mistake a Freudian slip. It reveals a hidden belief we’re not even fully conscious of.
“Great is my faithfulness”—isn’t this too often my perception of reality? Some combination of my personality and early spiritual formation shaped me to focus obsessively on my own faithfulness. Am I doing enough? Am I trying hard enough? Am I faithful enough?
I’ve asked this question in seasons of grief and uncertainty. I’ve asked it through the fog of depression and when the feelings in my soul grow dim. I’ve asked it when life feels like a survival-marathon, and I know God is with me but can’t quite see His face clearly.
It’s a question that leaves me feeling anxious and overwhelmed, knowing that my (misguided) attempts at spiritual perfectionism continue to prove inadequate.
Over and over, I’ve come to realize that if the outcome of this following-Jesus enterprise rests on my own faithfulness, I am doomed. I can never try hard enough, never be steady enough.
But if it actually rests in the faithfulness of God towards me? Ah—there is a safe place to land in the midst of the shifting uncertainties of life. My faithfulness can be fleeting. God’s faithfulness towards me is as steady and sure as the sunrise each morning. He is faithful, even when I am not. My questions and doubts do not frighten Him, and His love never falters, even when mine falls short for the thousandth time. He is the Faithful One. My faithfulness is only ever a shadowy response to His.
What good news this invitation is, my friends, to turn my gaze towards the gracious God who is ever-turned towards me with His faithful, compassionate, unchanging love. It’s a place to rest, a place to exhale, a place to give thanks.
My faithfulness is nothing to sing about. But God’s? That melody will never grow old.
