Hymns That Open Our Hearts

Hymns That Open Our Hearts

 

Scripture Verse: “Go through the midst of the city, through the midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark (ת) upon the foreheads of the men that sigh and that cry for all the abominations that be done in the midst thereof.” (Ezekiel 9:4)

Hymns open our hearts. Even if it’s a hymn I’ve sung many times without much feeling, there are moments—especially in particular circumstances—when the Holy Spirit opens my heart and moves me deeply through that very same hymn. This is a story from long ago. I attended a presbytery meeting of our denomination, where an elder—Dr. Kim, a second-generation Korean American—gave a report on his visit to North Korea. He had participated in the Presbyterian Church (USA) General Assembly delegation and, at the time, was teaching microbiology at a university in New York.

Though much of his report on North Korea was information I was already familiar with and did not find particularly engaging, I was captivated at the end when he shared a hymn that he sang with North Korean Christians. This small-framed elder sat down at the piano, laid his hands on the keys, and began to play. As he played a beautifully refined introduction, my heart was drawn in. When he sang verses 1 and 4 in Korean, I imagined the scene of him singing together with the North Korean congregation, and I was overwhelmed with the deep moving of the Holy Spirit.

1. I know not why God’s wondrous grace
To me He hath made known,
Nor why, unworthy, Christ in love
Redeemed me for His own.

Chorus:

But “I know Whom I have believed,
And am persuaded that He is able
To keep that which I’ve committed
Unto Him against that day.”

4. I know not when my Lord may come,
At night or noonday fair,
Nor if I walk the vale with Him,
Or meet Him in the air.

Chorus repeats

Even in the midst of communist dictatorship, and in the sorrow and suffering the world brings, we rejoice and give thanks because God loved and redeemed even someone as useless as me.

Back when I was still a layperson in Korea, I once visited a care center for physically and mentally disabled children with Sunday school teachers and students. The expressions on the children’s faces were dark, and they seemed uninterested in our visit. These children had been neglected and marginalized by society. Initially, they kept their hearts closed. But once they realized that we genuinely wanted to interact with them, they opened their hearts, and behind their gloomy, twisted expressions, we discovered their beautiful inner selves.

We sat together, sang hymns, and shared testimonies of the Lord’s love. As we were about to leave, we invited them to perform a special song at our church’s evening service the following Sunday. The hymn they sang then was more beautiful and grace-filled than anything I had ever heard from any famous choir in the world.

This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through
My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me from heaven’s open door
And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.

O Lord, You know I have no friend like You
If heaven’s not my home, then Lord what will I do?
The angels beckon me from heaven’s open door
And I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.

Their hymn brought tears to my eyes. Among them were boys and girls who had been abandoned by their siblings and parents. Yet in their hearts, the Lord was present, gently healing their pain with His hand of love. Jesus had gone ahead to heaven to prepare a place for such as these.

When I was about to leave Korea for the United States, I had made the decision to become a missionary and was praying for guidance. During that time, one hymn—number 404—deeply captured my heart.

The love of God is greater far
Than tongue or pen can ever tell;
It goes beyond the highest star,
And reaches to the lowest hell;
The guilty pair bowed down with care,
God gave His Son to win;
His erring child  He reconciled,
And pardoned from His sin. 

Chorus:

Oh love of God, how rich and pure,
How measureless and strong;
It shall forevermore endure—
The saints’ and angels’ song.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,
And were the skies of parchment made,
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade—
To write the love of God above
Would drain the ocean dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole,
Tho' stretched from sky to sky.

Chorus repeats

I was so overwhelmed and grateful for the immense love of God who saved even someone as unworthy and sinful as I. That love filled me with such awe and emotion that I asked myself: “How can I return this love?” I searched for a way to respond to His grace, to testify to it, and to devote myself to it. That, I believe, is the true grace and awe that hymn-singing can bring.

While teaching the Bible to graduate students in Virginia, one hymn deeply moved a student who had just come to believe in the Lord after arriving in the U.S.

O Thou, in whose presence my soul takes delight,
On whom in affliction I call,
My comfort by day, and my song in the night,
My hope, my salvation, my all! 

Where dost Thou, dear Shepherd, resort with Thy sheep,
To feed them in pastures of love?
Say, why in the valley of death should I weep,
Or alone in this wilderness rove?  

Dear Shepherd! I hear and will follow your call;
I know the sweet sound of Thy voice,
Restore and defend me, for Thou art my all,
And in Thee I will ever rejoice. (Hymn 82, Verses 1, 2, 5) 

Both he and his wife had studied biology at Seoul National University. Even before they fully understood who God was, the Lord touched his heart through the powerful prompting of the Holy Spirit. He felt God’s love so deeply that it seemed to reach into his very being. It wasn’t in a loud revival meeting—it was simply during a quiet preparatory hymn before a Bible study. Yet the Lord completely seized his heart. The emotion was so overwhelming that he couldn’t contain it.

About a year into his studies, the love of God that he had experienced seemed to make everything else feel meaningless to him. One day, he came to me for counseling. We talked all night. I tried to help him understand that even someone who has profoundly experienced God's love and desires to devote their life to God still needs to continue learning and growing, even academically. Eventually, he became an elder. Both he and his wife earned their PhDs, returned to Korea, and began teaching at a college.

While hymns bring us into an encounter with the Holy Spirit—into love and grace—they are not the ultimate goal of our spiritual life. They are a means, a doorway to opening our hearts to God. Therefore, we must become people who, with humble and open hearts, strive to understand more deeply the truth of God and the nature of His love.

 

 

The Highest Wisdom

The Highest Wisdom

 

Scripture Verse: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge, but fools despise wisdom and instruction.” Proverbs 1:7

In the Inner Chapters of the Zhuangzi, in the section titled The Great Master (大宗師), we read:

“He who understands the workings of Heaven and the works of man has attained the highest wisdom as a human being. He who understands Heaven lives in accordance with nature. He who understands man uses what he knows to cultivate what he does not know. The one who lives out his natural lifespan without dying prematurely does so because of great wisdom.”

Although Zhuangzi’s notion of “Heaven” refers more to the harmonious order of nature than to a personal deity, believers may rightly interpret this as referring to God. Thus, the wise person is one who understands both the works of God and the nature of human actions. However, such a person does not truly exist. For believers, even if we do not fully grasp the affairs of the world, we should still strive to discern the will of God. And even if we cannot fully comprehend it, we are called to live lives of obedience to His Word.

We live in a time of deep confusion. This confusion stems not only from our inability to discern the intentions behind human actions but also from our lack of understanding of God’s providential will. The chaos of the world unsettles us, and even as Christians committed to following Christ, we are often uncertain about how to live faithfully.

Many who sincerely seek to live godly lives continue to face hardship and suffering, while others—some of whom claim to be Christians—live in morally compromised ways yet seem to be materially blessed. This apparent contradiction confuses and even disheartens us.

Would it not be easier to trust God if He made a clear distinction in how He blessed the faithful versus the unfaithful? Yet God remains silent. Whether He knows our desires or not, whether He listens or not, He offers no explanation. Consequently, even within the church, it is rare to find those who care for the work of God more than their own.

Many wish to believe just enough to “squeeze into heaven.” They are unconcerned with whether they will receive God’s commendation or reward in the life to come.

But is this kind of faith truly a saving faith?

True saving faith is accompanied by assurance of forgiveness and salvation. It looks to the kingdom of God with hope. A person with such faith desires to serve the Lord in response to His grace, striving to fulfill His work whether or not their body can keep up.

Although God personally guided, protected, and provided for the Israelites, their faith was neither wholehearted nor consecrated. Scripture reveals their persistent unbelief and irreverence, even in the presence of God’s tangible provision—manna, quail, clothing that did not wear out.

The problem was not God's invisibility. The real issue was the pride embedded in the human heart. That pride dictated how they interpreted events. And when things did not unfold according to their desires or expectations, they turned to unbelief, even denying God.

Must God act according to our expectations, desires, and ideas of fairness in order to be deemed “truly God”?

Throughout redemptive history, whether God visibly revealed Himself or not, there has always been a remnant of the faithful. These people were marked by humility and obedience to God’s absolute sovereignty and Word.

Their obedience did not come from always understanding God’s ways or seeing Him clearly. Rather, they acknowledged Him as Lord in their hearts. Even when their plans differed from God’s, they trusted in His goodness. Though their present condition may have been filled with suffering and sorrow, they believed that He would ultimately lead them to peace and joy. And so, they obeyed. That is faith.

Faith does not calculate how much one should believe based on present circumstances. It does not measure how much of God’s work to take on depending on whether things are going well.

God desires foolish wise men. To the world, they may appear foolish—but to God, they are wise, because they live by obedient faith.

Take Noah in the Old Testament. To his contemporaries, he was a madman. God did not give him a precise timeline for the flood. He simply said: “Make yourself an ark of gopher wood.” (Genesis 6:14)

Noah was mocked and ridiculed: “Fool! Why waste your time on such nonsense? Where is your God? Show Him to us!”
Even his own family likely struggled to understand. They lived far from the sea, and the skies were clear. What was the point of building an ark?

Noah himself may have occasionally thought: “Lord, I do not understand this command.”
Yet he obeyed. He built the ark—quietly, faithfully—for one hundred years.
And what was the result?

At first, it was hardship and confusion. But in the end, it was salvation.
May we, too, become such “foolish” ones who silently look to God in faith, awaiting the day His will is fully revealed.

 

When the Fog of Doubt Clears

When the Fog of Doubt Clears

 

Scripture Verse: “For in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed—a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: ‘The righteous will live by faith.’” (Romans 1:17)

Those who earnestly seek the truth feel a deep joy the moment they encounter it. The secret to discovering the truth that comes through faith is to empty our hearts and listen to the Lord’s word. Academic inquiry requires “eyes of doubt” and “eyes of criticism” in order to grow, but such qualities become obstacles when it comes to faith.

When you stand on a high place and look down at a city, you can see its layout clearly. On a clear day, from the top of the Empire State Building or the Sears Tower, you can look down and understand the structure of New York or Chicago. But on a foggy day, no matter how high you climb, you cannot discern the city's form. The thicker the fog, the harder it is to see. Likewise, when our eyes are veiled by the fog of doubt, pride, or greed, we cannot see or discover the truths of faith we long to find.

John Wesley, even after being ordained as a minister, arrived in Georgia filled with missionary zeal. However, he failed to fulfill his mission and, after wasting much time, eventually returned to England, virtually fleeing under the cover of night. Standing on the deck of the ship back to England, his heart was filled with emptiness. When a storm shook the vessel, he was overwhelmed with fear of death. At that moment, he heard the sound of hymns sung by Moravian Christians on board. Their hymns brought peace to Wesley’s heart.

He began to reflect: “I am a minister, yet I’m so anxious and fearful—how can these people remain so calm in the midst of a storm? We believe in the same Jesus, so why don’t I have their joy and peace?” Troubled and unable to answer this question, he wrestled with his calling as a minister.

One day, while walking down Aldersgate Street in London, he entered a small church where a soft hymn was being sung. Inside, an unknown preacher was reading Martin Luther’s Preface to the Epistle to the Romans. As Wesley listened, his heart began to grow warm. He had found the truth of faith. Sitting quietly in a corner of that little church, he wept endlessly.

Wesley had attended Oxford University and formed the “Holy Club” during his school years, diligently practicing his faith. He had been ordained as a minister in the Anglican Church at the young age of 25 and was seen as a promising elite minister. Yet until that moment, he had never experienced the joy of salvation. He was a Christian in mind, but not in heart. At the age of 35, through a personal experience of being born again in Christ, he would go on to become the founder of the Methodist movement.

The Preface to the Epistle to the Romans that awakened Wesley’s heart was written by Martin Luther, the 16th-century German priest and Reformer. While he was still a Catholic monk, Luther lived without peace. No matter how much he engaged in ascetic practices, he found no assurance of the forgiveness of his sins. Even after crawling up and down the church steps in Rome on his elbows and knees, he still felt that sin remained within him. Then, one day, a verse struck his heart—Romans 1:17: “For in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed… ‘The righteous will live by faith.’” Through this revelation, Luther raised the banner of Sola Fide—“by faith alone”—and launched the Protestant Reformation.

Our salvation does not come from good deeds, asceticism, or by purchasing indulgences, but only through faith in our Savior, Jesus Christ.

This awakening to salvation through faith was also the Apostle Paul’s own experience. As a Pharisee, Paul was zealous in keeping the Law of God. Yet he lacked the joy and peace that the deacon Stephen had even in the face of death. But when Paul met Jesus Christ—the author and perfecter of our faith—on the road to Damascus, he realized that human salvation is possible only through faith in Jesus Christ, the way, the truth, and the life. From then on, he considered all things he once valued to be rubbish compared to Christ, who gave him eternal life and joy, and he was transformed into an apostle who boldly proclaimed Christ.

 

 

The Wisdom of Knowing One’s Ignorance

The Wisdom of Knowing One’s Ignorance

 

Scripture Verse: Jesus said, "If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains." (John 9:41)

Socrates said, “Know thyself,” pointing out that many people act without knowing what they know and what they do not know. A wise person is one who knows what they know and what they do not know. Thus, such a person strives even harder to learn what they do not know.

In Chapter 71 of Laozi’s Tao Te Ching, it says: 

“Knowing what you do not know is superior (知不知上).
Pretending to know when you do not is a disease (不知知病).
Only when you recognize a disease as a disease will it cease to be one (夫唯病病，是以不病).
The sage has no disease (聖人不病).
Because he sees a disease as a disease, he does not suffer from it (以其病病，是以不病).”

Among those who live a church life, there is a disease of “pretending.” There are pastors who “pretend” to have the qualifications of a pastor even though they do not. There are elders who “pretend” to have faith even though they do not. There are deaconesses and deacons who lack the cultivated character of faith, yet “pretend” as if they possess it.

More serious than this disease of pretense is the disease of illusion—the illusion that one has what they actually lack. This disease is prevalent among churchgoers, including pastors and elders.

A person who becomes a pastor assumes that they possess the authority and qualifications of a pastor. A person who becomes an elder does not reflect on how they came to that position, but believes they fully deserve it in terms of faith and qualifications. A person who becomes a deacon forgets that, in truth, there was simply no one else available and they happened to be chosen. Yet they delude themselves into thinking they became a deacon because they fully met the qualifications.

If we are not afflicted with the disease of pretense or the disease of illusion, regardless of our titles, we would clearly realize how lacking we are as individuals. Then, we would neither boast about our faith needlessly nor put ourselves forward. But, because we carry this chronic disease of “pretending” and “illusion,” do we not act as if we are someone important without truly knowing “who and what we are”?

Jesus said to the Pharisees—those who lived the most righteous lives and were unmatched in their knowledge and observance of the Law of Moses—“If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains.” If they had acknowledged their spiritual ignorance before Jesus Christ, the Son of God, then perhaps their faults and ignorance could have been forgiven. But because they claim to see (spiritually) when in fact they do not, their sins and faults remain unforgiven.

We must cast out from our lives of faith both the “arrogance of pretense” and the “illusion of knowledge”—a result of spiritual ignorance. In doing so, may the perfect grace and abundant blessings of God richly dwell among us.