Summary: In my first rural parish in North Carolina, I was as a young whippersnapper of a pastor even more of a liturgical and theological and musical snob than I am now. I regularly used as my example of what we ought not to sing the hymn "In the Garden." Why would Christians, whose biblical faith values community far above individualism and who have heard Jesus' explicit command to deny self and live for others, why would we ever sing, "He walks with me, talks with me, tells me I am his own"? Some years later, a Baptist clergy friend of mine helped knock me off my high horse when he heard my rant about that hymn and quoted some familiar words: "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters," and so on. Touché! Of course, we have a personal relationship with God, but still, I think "private" is rarely a helpful word in communities of faith. As an aside, that reasoning is why "In the Garden" still has never appeared in a Lutheran hymnal. Anyway, one night in that first parish, that know-it-all young pastor was called to the hospital by the family of an elderly parishioner who was struggling in his last hours. I rushed to the hospital, and we waited for all of his children to arrive; and when all of them were there, we all held hands around his bed and commended him to Jesus and prayed for his peaceful passing. This dear old salt-of-the-earth farmer looked up and smiled, and then he spoke. He spoke last words. Sacred, Holy ground. "I love every one of you. I'm ready to go. And I love Pastor Tim, too, and I love his voice and I know he'll sing "In the Garden" for you at my funeral. Whereupon in that very instant he flat-lined on the monitor and died. Through tears, the oldest son looked at me and said, "Thank you, Pastor. Daddy always loved that song!"
