Called to Serve(Part 8): What The Hymn Book Taught Me

Throughout this series, I have reflected on calling, grief, leadership, teaching, and the quiet work of serving others. This week, I want to reflect on something that sits on a shelf in my office: an old hymn book. At first glance, it is simply a worn collection of songs. Over time, however, it has become a reminder that some truths endure because they have been tested by generations of faithful believers. Chaplaincy has taught me that what lasts is often more valuable than what is merely new.

An Old Book on the Shelf

There's an old hymn book that still sits on my shelf.

Its spine is cracked from years of use, and most of it wasn't even mine originally. It belonged to a tradition of worship that existed long before many of the trends I've watched come and go in ministry: call-and-response choruses, projector slides, worship bands, and now carefully produced ambient sounds.

The hymn book has outlasted many of them.

And I've come to think that's not an accident.

I didn't always see it that way.

Early in ministry, I was drawn to whatever felt current: the newest song, the freshest style, anything that seemed to signal relevance.

Tradition, to my younger self, sounded too much like stagnation.

It took years of chaplaincy, especially sitting with people in some of their hardest and most honest moments, to begin seeing the old hymns differently.

Why the Old Forms Hold Weight

A hymn isn't necessarily written for a Sunday morning high.

Some are written for the whole range of human experience, including the seasons when celebration feels far away and people don't have words of their own.

It Is Well with My Soul emerged from Horatio Spafford's profound grief after the loss of his four daughters at sea.

Great Is Thy Faithfulness was written by Thomas Chisholm out of a life marked by hardship and God's sustaining faithfulness.

These songs weren't simply expressions of pleasant religious feelings.

They carried convictions that had been wrestled with in the realities of life.

That matters.

Because sooner or later, ministry takes you into places where enthusiasm isn't enough.

A hospital room.

A funeral.

A family crisis.

A conversation with someone whose faith has been shaken.

A season when someone can no longer find the right words to pray.

I've noticed that, in such moments, words remembered from years ago can sometimes surface with surprising strength.

A line from a hymn.

A chorus learned as a child.

A verse that someone hasn't consciously thought about in years.

I don't think that's because everything old is automatically better.

It is because some things become weight-bearing through repeated use.

They have been carried through joy, grief, doubt, disappointment, and hope.

They have been sung by people who were celebrating and by people who were barely holding on.

What This Taught Me About Ministry

The lesson isn't really about music.

It's about what lasts under pressure.

In chaplaincy, I've learned to ask the same question of almost everything: a counselling approach, a devotional habit, a piece of advice, even an idea about leadership.

Has this been tested by suffering, or does it only work when things are going well?

Plenty of ideas sound wise in a classroom.

Some sound inspiring from a pulpit.

But hardship has a way of asking different questions.

What remains when the applause stops?

What remains when the plan fails?

What remains when someone is grieving and you don't know what to say?

The old hymns have taught me that words worth keeping are often words that have already passed through fire.

Tradition Isn't the Enemy of Relevance

I've also learned not to confuse relevance with novelty.

There's nothing wrong with new songs, new expressions of worship, or new ways of communicating faith.

Contemporary worship has real gifts: immediacy, accessibility, creativity, and energy.

The question isn't whether something is old or new.

The better question is:

Can it carry people when life becomes heavy?

Sometimes the answer will be found in an old hymn.

Sometimes it will be found in a new song.

Sometimes it will be found in a Scripture passage that has been read a thousand times.

What matters is whether what we give people has enough depth to remain meaningful when circumstances change.

What This Means for Those of Us Who Lead and Serve

This lesson extends far beyond worship.

Whatever you are building, a curriculum, a leadership culture, a family tradition, a ministry practice, or a piece of counsel you give repeatedly, ask whether it has been tested by hard seasons.

Does it still work when people are tired?

Does it still work when resources are limited?

Does it still work when someone disagrees with you?

Does it still work when the outcome isn't what you hoped for?

The things that endure are rarely the things that simply look impressive in comfortable seasons.

They are the things that continue to carry weight when the ground underneath us shifts.

Perhaps that is one reason I've become more grateful for that old hymn book on my shelf.

It reminds me that ministry isn't only about creating something new.

Sometimes it is about recognising what has already carried people faithfully and making sure we don't discard it simply because it is no longer fashionable.

Called to Serve

Galatians 5:13 says:

"You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love." — Galatians 5:13 (NIV)

I've come to see service in a slightly different way.

Sometimes serving people means giving them something new.

Sometimes it means preserving something valuable enough to hand on.

A hymn book may look like an old object on a shelf.

But behind its pages are generations of people who found language for worship, grief, hope, and faith.

Perhaps part of our calling is not only to create for the people coming after us, but also to recognise, protect, and pass on what has helped people before us.

That, too, is service.

A Question to Sit With This Week

What's one old, perhaps unfashionable practice or piece of wisdom in your life that has proven its weight in your hardest seasons — and are you still making room for it?

Next week: “The Ordination I Didn't Expect” — on the moments that make a calling official long after it has already begun.

CALLED TO SERVE

My Life as a Chaplain

"You were called to be free... rather, serve one another humbly in love." — Galatians 5:13 (NIV)

A weekly reflection on chaplaincy, leadership, faith, and what it means to live a life of service.

🎵 Theme Song: “Called to Serve” "I am called to serve, to listen and to lead..."

This reflection is part of the Called to Serve series. Read all twelve parts on the Called to Serve page.