All the way, My Savior Leads Me

This morning was the first ladies class of the fall semester for our congregation. I’ve missed it. Truth be told, I’ve been in denial about missing it. Actually, all summer long I kept telling myself that I don’t have time for it. But, as I sat there this morning amidst friends who encourage me, I realized it is right where I need to be. Honestly, it is hard to make it, having two small people to get ready for school each day, and one following me around asking for “meeeelk” every five seconds, and one big person who grumpily requires coffee before gracing the world with his beautiful blue eyes, and to top it off having the blessing of a new job to work into the mix..and all this happens before I can look in the mirror or brush my teeth. I barely make it, and most of the time I’m late.

The truth is I like to tell myself and others how busy I am. I AM busy. So is everyone else. Sometimes I wonder if we all attempt to comfort each other with pats on our busy backs. “I’m busy. You’re busy. We’re all busy together.” I’ll be the one to jump out there and say, there are some things that I make a priority and other things that I don’t. What I’ve noticed working with congregations is that a lot of times it’s the “church things” that get cut out when life gets busy. It is the personal spiritual growth disciplines that no outsiders witness that get cut out when the grind really gets in the way.

I had a weird conversation with my best friends the other day. Laugh if you must, but I honestly was concerned that the only time I have to talk to God lately is when I’m in the bathroom. My friends and I discussed the daily craziness associated with life and how little time is left for spirituality. I sincerely am worried that I’m offending the maker of heaven and earth that I only give him my potty break. How horrible is that?!? I don’t want more grace here. I don’t want anyone to tell me that I should not feel bad about that. It is a problem, and I can do better than a bathroom prayer session. I owe more to my creator and savior.

No matter how much I’d like to believe that I am steered around at the mercy of my militant pocket calendar. I set the dates. I write them down. I am completely capable of saying no. I can contest; it’s easiest to say no to God, the unseen. It is easiest to make a priority of what the world deems a priority. The tangible requirements are easiest to remember. I know this. I live this, too. My question is this, where's the faith behind saying yes to all the tangibles and leaving our unseen God out in the cold for another day when there's time? There may never come another day with more time.

This is what happens to me when I push prayer to the last of my agenda. I justifiably put my rigid schedule in control. Ironically, I start to control MY life. I start to panic about paying bills, putting food on the table, the education of my children, a PhD for my husband, and anything else that can squeeze its way into my self-inflicted anxiety attack. The provisions of God slip out of view, and before I know it, I’m meeting Him in the bathroom for seconds at a time. That’s when I have to look myself in the mirror as I wash my hands and see that His own creation only offers Him potty time conversation. And that, my friends, that’s when I realize my priorities are out of whack because I’ve pushed my God into the last available space on my calendar removing Him from God-status to second place, maybe third.

As I sat down to work this afternoon, the melody of an old hymn popped in my head. I heard this melody over and over as I waited for everything to boot up. This has happened to me before. I can’t figure out what hymn it is, and I have to run to the bookshelf to grab our ancient hymnal before I can let it go. Then when I read the words, I realize it is God again trying to reach me. I have to sit and absorb what God wants me to learn through a hymn that I haven’t sung in years. Yes, I unyieldingly and sincerely believe He reminds me of His truths through song.

Here is the song that came to me today. I hope it encourages you because it slapped me in the face. You see, as long as I let Him lead, and unfailingly put Him first, springs of joy will abound because He, not I, doeth all things well.

All the way my Savior leads me

All the way my Savior leads me;
What have I to ask beside?
Can I doubt His tender mercy,
Who through life has been my Guide?
Heav’nly peace, divinest comfort,
Here by faith in Him to dwell!
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well;
For I know, whate’er befall me,
Jesus doeth all things well.

All the way my Savior leads me,
Cheers each winding path I tread;
Gives me grace for every trial,
Feeds me with the living Bread.
Though my weary steps may falter,
And my soul athirst may be,
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see;
Gushing from the Rock before me,
Lo! A spring of joy I see.

All the way my Savior leads me
O the fullness of His love!
Perfect rest to me is promised
In my Father’s house above.
When my spirit, clothed immortal,
Wings its flight to realms of day
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way;
This my song through endless ages—
Jesus led me all the way. ~Fanny Crosby

A note about this hymn:

This beloved hymn came to Fanny Crosby as a result of a prayer. Struggling financially, she desperately needed some money. As her usual custom, Fanny began to pray. A few minutes later, a gentleman offered her five dollars, the exact amount she needed. Later recalling the incident, she said, “I have no way of accounting for this except to believe that God put it into the heart of this good man to bring the money.” The poem she wrote afterward became “All The Way My Savior Leads Me.” As both a songwriter and a woman of faith, Fanny Crosby serves as an example to all.