For the past few months, I have had the pleasure of spending Tuesday mornings with a lovely group of singers.  We gather and sing hymns for about an hour each week.  Some of us have memory challenges, some of us don’t.  Some of us bring loved ones, with care and generosity so there is a space for these special voices to join, in whatever way they are able.   Everyone has memories of these sacred songs.  Everyone has stories.  

We simply sing favourites. 

Today someone requested the hymn Take My Life And Let It Be.  I hadn’t sung it in years – maybe decades.  It is very familiar to me, and I certainly remember it being a regular part of my childhood church experiences.  I will admit that when I flipped to the correct page, my heart sank a wee bit when I realised there were six verses.  That’s a lot of repetition.  But then we sang it.  

Take my life and let it be
consecrated, Lord, to thee.
Take my moments and my days;
let them flow in endless praise,
let them flow in endless praise.

Take my hands and let them move
at the impulse of thy love.
Take my feet and let them be
swift and beautiful for thee,
swift and beautiful for thee.

Take my voice and let me sing
always, only, for my King.
Take my lips and let them be
filled with messages from thee,
filled with messages from thee.

Take my silver and my gold;
not a mite would I withhold.
Take my intellect and use
every power as thou shalt choose,
every power as thou shalt choose.

Take my will and make it thine;
it shall be no longer mine.
Take my heart it is thine own;
it shall be thy royal throne,
it shall be thy royal throne.

Take my love; my Lord, I pour
at thy feet its treasure store.
Take myself, and I will be
ever, only, all for thee,
ever, only, all for thee.

These are powerful words – powerful ideas.  And we are living in a time where powerful ideas are desperately needed.  In recent weeks, the weight of a number of political actions have been heavy.  Living in Canada, a place generally thought of as secure, has become precarious.  The ever elusive concept of peace in our world seems shockingly unachievable, and even undesirable to some.  The news is filled with stories that appear, quite frankly, unbelievable.  We are in dark times.  And anxiety is everywhere.  

I’ve been trying to think of what I can do to remain positive.  It is difficult.  But, as one of my dear singers said this morning, we need joy more than ever.  To only take in that which is horrific, makes it almost impossible to carry on in this time of immense sadness and confusion.  As I sang these words, it occurred to me that within them could be found exceptional guidance.

The ability, or even desire, to use one’s life for the good of something beyond ourselves is a powerful idea.  This text is full of how to do just that.  These words happen to be focused on God as the one to whom we make our offerings, but I would suggest that the gifts we each have to offer can be given whether we have religious leanings or not. All of us have some kind of spiritual or ideological perspective that we centre our lives around.  Our morals, our ethics, our choices and definitions of what is good.  Not what is good for our own benefit, but simply what is good – and, I believe, by extension what is good for those around us, for our world.

This is not what some in power want from us.  It is not what we read about or even hear in our conversations.  These things will not easily win wars or save jobs.  But when my final day on this beautiful earth arrives, I want to look back and see that I lived in positivity – in both storms and fair weather.  I want to have offered what I have and who I am in ways that honour the gifts I have been given, not reduce them to mere commodities that can be both tarnished and diminished by greed or my own insecurities.  Who we each are is valuable in ways that cannot be imagined by those who deal only in the pursuit of the self.

The act of being positive has become radical.  It has become difficult.  But its potential lies in giving what we have for the benefit of others – even in times of distress and fear.  It is both challenging and rewarding.  It requires us to move with the impulse of love, with swiftness, beauty and generosity. 

Take my life.  Take my time. Take my hands.  Take my feet. Take my voice.  Take my words. Take my wealth. Take my intellect.  Take my will. Take my love.

And, let it be.