Hymn of the Week, a Lenten Journey: March 14, 2022
Hymn of the Week: There Is a Place of Quiet Rest
Glory to God: #824
Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore
Text and Music Cesáreo Gabaráin 1979
Lord, You have come to the lakeshore
Looking neither for wealthy nor wise ones
You only asked me to follow humbly
O Lord, with Your eyes You have searched me
And while smiling have spoken my name
Now my boat's left on the shoreline behind me
By Your side I will seek other seas
You know so well my possessions
My boat carries no gold and no weapons
You will find there, my nets and labor
O Lord, with Your eyes You have searched me
And while smiling have spoken my name
Now my boat's left on the shoreline behind me
By Your side I will seek other seas
You need my hands full of caring
Through my labors to give others rest
And constant love that keeps on loving
O Lord, with Your eyes You have searched me
And while smiling have spoken my name
Now my boat's left on the shoreline behind me
By Your side I will seek other seas
You, who have fished other oceans
Ever longed for by souls who are waiting
My loving friend, as thus You call me
O Lord, with Your eyes You have searched me
And while smiling have spoken my name
Now my boat's left on the shoreline behind me
By Your side I will seek other seas
You Have Come to the Lakeshore
The first time I heard and sang, “Lord, You Have Come to the Lakeshore,” I was in Stuart Auditorium looking out over Lake Junaluska, a Methodist gathering place in the mountains of North Carolina. It reminded me of the times I’ve visited the shore of Galilee, and I felt transported back in time to that moment when Jesus first came to the lakeshore.
Jesus was walking by the Sea of Galilee. He saw two brothers, Simon and Andrew, casting their nets into the lake, for they were fishermen. Jesus said, “Come, follow me, and I will make you fishers of other people.” And at once they left their nets and followed him. (Matt. 4:18-20, AP)
The composer, Cesáreo Gabaráin, was a Spanish priest who started writing music for humble people in a more remote folksy style after the Roman Catholic Church’s reforms at the Second Vatican Council
(1965). His hymn tune (Pescador de Hombres, “Fisher of Men”) has a waltzing, lilting feel, mimicking the feeling of being on a boat rocked to and fro by the gentle waves.
Water has such astonishing beauty. A landscape photo or painting is more lovely if a river runs through it. John O’ Donohue notices, “Water stirs something very deep and ancient in the human heart. Our eyes and hearts follow its rhythm as if the flow of water were the mirror where time becomes obliquely visible. The image of water can hold such longing.”
Why are we so drawn to water? Is it because we began our lives in the water of our mother’s womb? Is it that our bodies are mostly water? Water quenches thirst, washes us clean, and is simply beautiful to behold. And it is not entirely safe. How many of the Gospel stories feature are the disciples being terrified on that very lake? Doesn’t water symbolize our inevitable humility, defying our grossly overrated ability to manage things?
God has provided us with bodies of water to keep us humble but also on an unending quest for more. Isaac Newton summed up all his knowledge: “I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself in now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, while the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me.”
It’s intriguing to me that Jesus’ first encounters with those who would become his closest friends and most zealous followers took place not just by water but also at the workplace. Jesus came – and comes – to the places where people work. You don’t need to try and haul your faith into the workplace. Jesus is already there, showing up for work before you arrive – and you can’t get rid of him there either. The love, grace, call, and challenges are all around you if you (Like Simon and Andrew) have the ears to hear.
Gabaráin’s hymn claims that Jesus showed up at work looking “Neither for wealthy nor wise ones, neither gold nor weapons.” Rather Jesus was seeking “Humble followers.” Yes, “Lord, you know my possessions . . .my nets and labor . . . With your eyes, you have searched me, and while smiling have spoken my name.”
How lovely Jesus knows you, your work, your stuff. Imagine him with you, looking at you, into you, not past you, and he smiles and speaks your name.
It turns out that this Jesus who gifts you with presence and love also needs you. In the third stanza, we sing, “You need my hands, full of caring through my labors to give others rest, and constant love that keeps on loving.” Another Spanish Catholic, St. Teresa of Avila, is reported to have said, “Yours are the hands of Christ . . .Yours are the hands with which he is to bless now.” Look at your hands before work, during work, after work, and ask how you might bless others, how you might be God’s constant love through whatever you do.