Worship by
the Fountain
By Michael
K. Farrar, O.D.
© August,
2002
The Pastor
slid the multi-pane window of his church office up. Fresh air poured through
the opening in the old brick building bringing with it the fragrance of freshly
mown grass and flower blossoms. “Such a beautiful day.” He thought to himself.
It would be great to lie out on the lawn and soak up the warm sun, but he must
prepare for Sunday's sermon.
The
Pastor opened his Bible and began to read in the book of John about the woman
at the well. He prayed that God would lay something on his heart to share with
his congregation this week? As he began to read the account of the Samaritan
women his concentration was interrupted. Someone was humming a song outside.
The Pastor
tried to concentrate on the passage of scripture, but the subtle sounds of the
song penetrated his concentration. “Whoever was attempting to hum their tune
needed a music lesson.” He thought.
After several
minutes the pastor finally surrendered to the humming and attempted to identify
the song that was hidden within it. He knew it must be a hymn of some sort, but
he just couldn't figure out which one.
The pastor
went to the window to investigate. He gazed into the church courtyard. There by
the beautiful fountain was an elderly woman in a wheel chair. He could see her deformed limbs that might
be called legs draped over the edge of the chair. She wore a black dress that
was covered with a brightly colored flower pattern. Her delicate head was
tilted back as if she was gazing into the heavens but her eyes were closed. The
only sign of life on her face was the huge smile formed by her small thin lips.
Her delicate thin arms were stretched out before her, the palms of her hands
facing upward. From her closed mouth came the hum of the song she shared with
no one but God and the eavesdropping pastor.
The pastor
thought of interrupting her to ask her what song she was humming, but
hesitated. Possibly he should leave her alone? What was that song? He knew he
had heard it before.
A tear formed
in the corner of his eye as he finally recognized the hymn this fragile sister
was offering in worship to her Lord. He remembered the passage in the book of
John he had been reading. He thought about the type of worship Jesus had said
His Father desired as He shared with the woman at the well. This woman at the
fountain before him, this crippled child of God, was offering the true
spiritual worship that the scriptures spoke of.
He knew what
he would share with his brothers and sisters on Sunday. He began to whisper the
words of the hymn he knew so well, the hymn the woman at the fountain was
humming in worship to her Savior, “Just As I Am.”
Just as I
am, without one plea.
But that
Thy blood was shed for me.
And that
Thou biddest 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 Thou wilt receive.
Wilt
welcome pardon cleanse relieve.
Because
Thy promise I believe
O Lamb of
God, I come, I come.
Just as I
am Thy love unknown.
Hath
broken every barrier down.
Now to be
Thine yes, Thine alone.
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 poor wretched blind.
Sight
riches healing of the mind.
Yea all I
need in Thee to find.
O Lamb of
God, I come, I come.