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Text: Charlotte Elliott, 1836
Tune: WOODWORTH William B. Bradbury, 1849
Click here to listen:
Last week, I didn't get a post finished because I was with my 9 month old in the hospital. We had an eventful week that included trips to the clinic, the ER, an ambulance ride and 5 days in the hospital. Strep throat, RSV, bronchiolitis...Not fun, but a week later he's doing much better.
I started out this Lenten season with high hopes of reflection and contemplation and preparation and blogging... but so far I have had to spend my time and energy in other ways. Needless to say, my self-imposed deadline is here again and I don't have anything ready to go. With two kids in the house, there are very few moments in the day that give me enough brain space to come up with something coherent and even fewer moments that are quiet enough to record anything. Here's a picture of what is going on right next to me as I type...
Soon after this picture was taken, the giggles unraveled into screaming and crying. I am literally racing to type this and post it before anybody gets hurt. That's life as I know it these days...
I still wanted to try to get something posted today, and I found this hymn that I worked on at least a year ago. It seemed fitting and encouraging in so many ways. Sometimes I forget that there is nothing I can do to add to what Christ has already done on the cross. The hymn has such a simple message that could be the heart cry of all of us who have found grace, forgiveness, peace and freedom in coming to the Lamb of God.
By the way, I did a quick search on this hymn, and the story behind it is beautiful. Here is a little blurb I found on hymnary.org, a site that I frequent to find out more about hymns
In 1828, at the age of 32, Charlotte Elliott suffered a serious illness that left her a semi-invalid. This caused depression, and within the year she experienced a severe spiritual crisis. Swiss evangelist Henry A. Cesàr Malan was visiting her family, and she confessed to him that she didn’t know how to come to Christ. His famous response was, “Come to him just as you are.” Her depression continued, however. One night, twelve years later, she lay awake, distressed by her uselessness as an invalid, and by doubts of her spiritual life. The next day, as she reflected on the previous night, she decided she needed to meet her spiritual troubles head on and conquer them by the grace of God. So she “gathered up in her soul the grand certainties, not of her emotions, but of her salvation: her Lord, His power, His promise” (Lutheran Hymnal Handbook). She took up pen and paper, and wrote down her own “formulae of faith,” remembering those words of the visiting evangelist. In the end she had the text “Just as I am, without one plea.” Her rule of faith has since become a comfort to millions, and we join with all Christians who experience doubt and uncertainty in their faith when we declare that Christ invites us to come to Him, just as we are.
Just as I am, without one plea,
but that thy blood was shed for me,
and that thou bidd'st me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, and waiting not
to rid my soul of one dark blot,
to thee, whose blood can cleanse each spot
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, though tossed about
with many a conflict, many a doubt,
fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
because thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.