Atheists Have No Hymns

In recent years it has become fashionable for adult children of famous individuals to write autobiographies describing the challenge or, even horror, of growing up in the home of a public persona. This has been especially true of children of former Hollywood stars. However, even children of famous Christians have gotten into the act. Franky Schaeffer, son of Francis Schaeffer, has written Crazy for God and Jay Bakker, son of Jim Bakker (of PTL Club fame) wrote Son of a Preacher Man.

With my never-ending desire to do what is popular, I guess it is now time for me to come clean... to “open up”... to purge my soul of the dark secrets of my childhood.

As I have thought through the list of terrible things I suffered while in my father’s home, besides being obligated to actually eat meals together and engage in meaningful conversation, I would say one of the worst abuses I suffered was being forced to engage in spontaneous hymn singing. That’s right! It is unbelievable, but my father (or sister or someone else) would suddenly be overcome with an inexplicable compulsion and we would all end up around the piano and actually sing through the hymnal.

I should point out that my father was strictly non-denominational when it came to hymnals - Methodist, Baptist, Holiness and others. He seemed to care more about the words and music than he did about the label on the cover.

Now, please be aware this was in a day when people did not live in hermetically sealed homes on over-sized lots. This was back when you could actually hear what was going on in your neighbor’s house! Much to my chagrin, people in the neighborhood not only heard us sing, they sometimes joined us.

I think you are beginning to understand the level of psychic pain I was forced to endure.

In John Wesley’s Instructions for Singing from 1761, point number four reads: “Sing lustily and with a good courage. Beware of singing as if you were half dead, or half asleep; but lift up your voice with strength …” Let me assure you, no one would have accused us of singing as though we were “half dead or asleep.” In fact, my hymn-singing experiences impacted me to such an extent that on one of my grade school report cards the teacher noted by the subject of music that: “Woody must learn that a loud voice is not necessarily a nice voice.”

This childhood trauma continues to deeply impact me. Just last night, Su began singing while we washed dishes together. Without a moment’s hesitation and like one of Pavlov’s dogs, I joined her as we began to sing through some of “the old ones.” You can see I still have no ability to resist.

During this past year my parents have had to deal with several health crises. Although I have been of little or no help in most of these situations, I did have the privilege of being there one day when we had to take my mother to the emergency room. After several hours filled with the emotional stress these kind of experiences provoke, I found myself sitting at the kitchen table in my parent’s house with one of my sisters, my daughter Krista, and my father. (My mother stayed in the hospital.) I am not sure how this happened, but from somewhere an old Baptist hymnal appeared and we began singing. We were tired, worn-out and certainly not in good form. Truth be told, we were so bad that it probably hurt my sleeping grandson’s ears. Still, because we didn’t know any better, we sang.

“Beyond the sunset, no clouds will gather, No storms will threaten, no fears annoy.."

And we sang.

“He is able to deliver thee, He is a-----ble to deliver thee; Tho’ by sin opprest, Go to Him for rest; Our God is able to deliver thee.”

And we sang.

“Tho’ the angry surges roll, On my tempest driven soul, I am peaceful, for I know, Wildly through winds may blow, I‘ve an anchor safe and sure, That can evermore endure. And it holds, my anchor holds.”

When my agnostic friends have asked me why I believe, I sometimes blame my upbringing. It is hard to doubt when you can sing songs like the above. I recently heard Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers sing Atheists Have No Songs. One of the lines goes: “Born-agains sing He is risen, but no one ever wrote a hymn for godless existentialism..”

I am not sure if that is completely true. However, if they have written those songs, none of them come to mind when you are in the emergency room or washing dishes or thinking about how much you miss singing some of the old ones.