Seduced by Solitary Greatness

I recently heard the complete Coronation Anthems of Handel in a choral concert, texts from Psalms 89, 21, and 45. The other half of the concert featured Telemann’s setting of Psalm 72, Deus judicium tuum, Solomon’s coronation psalm. If I was clever like Darby, I could provide links to both of these works, but do check them out if you have the inclination. They are full of majestic Baroque music, with imaginative lyrical diversions for appropriate texts, my favourite being Telemann’s wonderful bassoons gurgling away while the tenor sings “He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass; as showers that water the earth. In his days shall the righteous flourish; and abundance of peace until the moon disappears.” The characteristics of God’s rule—strong, just, merciful, righteous, executing salvation for the needy—are anticipated in the rule of a good king, and all the people rejoice with the possibilities of it. How great the king was in himself is not the theme. He would be great if his rule reflected the rule of God. He would be evil if it didn’t. But how perfect he personally was for the job is not the focus at all. What a challenge this is to our culture’s approach to highly visible positions of leadership.

The concert called to mind a college presidential inauguration in the evangelical tradition that I was involved with a number of years ago. The campus buzzed with the outstanding competency of the incoming president, and while there were prayers for God’s blessing and anointing, in retrospect, it seems we were asking God to stamp us, the gifted and competent, with His approval. We were not seeking God himself as our blessing. It came back to me rather vividly at this concert because I remembered I had been considering one of the Coronation Anthems for the inauguration ceremony, until I was told that the president specially requested a choral rendition of this Wayne Watson tune for his inauguration service. (I sincerely hope I’m not dumping on anyone’s favourite song):

Now, all I have is now to be faithful, to be holy
and to shine, lighting up the darkness


Right now, I really have no choice but to voice the truth to the nations


A generation looking for God



Chorus: For such a time as this I was placed upon the earth


To hear the voice of God 
and do His will, whatever it is


For such a time as this, for now and all the days He gives


I am here, I am here, and I am His, for such a time as this…

The refrain of course recalls the saving of Israel by Esther’s courageous entreaty of King Ahasuerus. But Esther’s expectation at that time was death, “If I perish, I perish.” It was her God-fearing uncle who persuaded her to take this risk by proposing that perhaps she had come to the throne “for such a time as this.” However, neither of them were calculating the status of their actions for posterity. They were just trying to make sure there would be posterity. It seems like a classic twist of evangelicalism to take such a biblical story, and interpret it as a self-conscious, inflated ministry vision that places yourself at the centre of some big new work of God. As I see it, this is not just the problem of evangelicalism as a system, although perhaps we are more blind to it in ourselves, as if we were no longer prone to these self-centered narratives that show up everywhere: academe, politics, business. We want so badly to be that unique story, to make a mark no one else has made, and to be conscious of exactly what we’ve done so we can modestly take credit whenever someone notices, and boy, we sure hope they do. Incidentally, this college president was fired recently and his name will go down in infamy in the annals of the organization. “And all the people rejoiced” characterized his dismissal much more than any other part of his tenure. It makes me wonder if everyone’s focus had been more on God’s character whether the outcome would have been different. Speculation, I know, but I really wonder. I recently came across this statement in Archibald Alexander’s address to the general assembly of the Presbyterian Church in 1808: “It is a lamentable truth that talents, which qualify a man to do little good, enable him to do much mischief. So much easier is it to destroy than to edify.” I need look no further than myself for evidence that this is true. For me, the gospel is proving the only effective corrective.