the wrong seems oft so strong

This is My Father’s World has never been one of my favorite hymns. It always seemed a little trite – the first two verses are about the beautiful nature God made: birds, flowers, the planets spinning, the wind blowing. A song for children maybe. Something sweet to sing when you’re in a good mood.

Recently I thought of it from a new perspective.

There is a family I see regularly.

They face a mountain of challenges. There are severe mental health and addiction issues in the family, there are poverty issues and physical disability issues and spiritual warfare. There are family services in place and caseworkers and therapists who visit the home regularly. They are getting help, but some days it feels like a drop in the ocean.

Recently I was there on one of the bad days. I held the little guy whose multiple physical disabilities will challenge him for life while his mama went to the bedroom to switch laundry loads. We smiled into the mirror and played patty cake and did all the other little social interactions I do with my babies. But that day I was really feeling the oppression in the home and wanting desperately to do something more. I felt urged to whisper in the little guy’s ear that Jesus loved him and I prayed a prayer of protection over his life. And then I sang “Jesus Loves Me” quietly, inviting the Holy Spirit to invade this small trailer where “religious” things were very unwelcome, the whole time sitting precariously on the edge of the couch because mama had casually mentioned the bedbug problem just as we were getting started in the session. We finished out our time, and I gave the encouragement and suggestions I give every time to this struggling young mom who’s in over her head.

And I left.

As I drove away from their home, I held two opposing thoughts in my head. On the one hand, whispering some words and singing a little song is the most insignificant thing I could do for a child who is in such desperate need of intervention.

But on the other hand, this is my Father’s world.

I wasn’t just speaking words. I was calling on the greatest power in the universe to be present in that home and with that child. I asked the creator, the author of life, the final judge who is holding back bowls of wrath, the gracious compassionate shepherd who seeks lost sheep, the King of kings and Lord of lords, the Captain of the heavenly armies to stand guard over this baby.

And I wasn’t just singing a simple tune. I was promising that boy – whose brain may never be developed enough to even understand my language – that Jesus sees his situation, Jesus knows his weakness, Jesus has the strength he needs, and that Jesus loves him.

I’m not just a therapist trying to bring a little help to a struggling family. I am a child of God, an agent of the Kingdom who can march deep into enemy territory with no fear (not even of bugs) because this whole world belongs to my Father.

The last verse of that hymn has the good stuff in it.

This is my Father’s world.
Don’t let my heart forget.
That though the wrong seems powerfully strong,
GOD is the ruler yet.

This is my Father’s world.
The battle is not done.
Jesus who died will be glorified
And earth and heaven be won.