What An 83-Year-Old Thought About Our Worship Services

I remember the first time I met sweet Mrs. Jimmie Rose Carver.  In a tiny frame, Mrs. Jimmie burst with the joy of the Lord.  After the man who was her husband and her pastor  for 60 years passed away a few years ago, she decided to visit North Side despite what she had heard from others concerning the worship.

As we got to know each other better, I cherished her as a sister-in-Christ.  In fact, we would often write notes of encouragement to one another.  One of her notes, I keep dear and keep close to me.  It tells of her heart towards her church.  As an 83-year-old, she became a part of a church that was very different from everything she had known in the years prior.

Dear Travis,

I received a wonderful blessing this week.  I got a precious note from Travis.  What a blessing that you will enjoy the song book I gave you.

No one on my list deserved it more than you.

I was invited a couple years ago to come to North Side but they said, “you won’t like the music.”

I am 83 years old and was married to my “knight in shining armor” for 60 years.  He was a pastor for 57-58 years.

But the music is wonderful.  You have such a great team and you don’t merely perform but you worship.  I love the worship time.

I also hear many compliments from the program at First Baptist in Ware Shoals and they all know me and made efforts to tell me since thy know I now belong to North Side.  I was proud to say, “that’s my worship team.”

I pray daily you will continue for a long time and God will bless you in every way and your family for that long time.  Thanks again for my blessing.

In my love and his.

Jimmie Rose Carver

Ruth 2:12

P.S. – This card shows you directing your team!

We had a great laugh about the picture.  I never thought that I resembled the song director on the card, but it is good to know she saw a resemblance.  I don’t know what was more funny: the fact that I am a naked angel baby or that the band is a bunch of birds starting at me.  Mrs. Jimmie and I laughed and laughed about the picture when we would talk.

I brought this letter out last week when I heard that Mrs. Jimmie has passed away.

I was so thankful for the short time I got to share, hug, and write letters with this precious lady.  We had some very special times together as I would kneel beside her hospital bed and we would talk about Scripture passages or sing songs of worship together.  These were some precious times that I am so thankful that I had.

I am thankful for a reminder of why the church needs a multigenerational approach.  When it focuses on one demographic, it loses impact from the Body of Christ.

I am thankful for a senior adult who could distinguish between truth, convictions, and preferences.

I am thankful for a “traditional” lady who was able to acknowledge hearts of worship beyond musical preferences.

I am thankful for a dear sister in Christ.  We encouraged each other, and I think we were both better because of the other.

I am thankful that when an 83-year-old lady walked into our services, she saw worship and she joined in wholeheartedly.

My Soul’s Poem

When the family asked me to sing at her funeral, I was honored to help.  I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else than leading worship one more time in honor of a lady who loved to worship.

I was also honored to be given some letters from her family that I had sent Mrs. Jimmie Rose that she supposedly kept near her in her room in the last few weeks.  I was honored to be one of her pastors.

One song that had ministered to her in the days leading up to her death was a hymn by Fanny Crosby entitled “Saved by Grace.”

I wasn’t familiar with the song, and so I did some research on it.  Here’s what I found:

The hymn was called into being through a ser­mon preached by Dr. How­ard Cros­by who was a dis­tant rel­a­tive and dear friend of mine. He said that no Christ­ian should fear death, for if each of us was faith­ful to the grace giv­en us by Christ, the same grace that teach­es us how to live would al­so teach us how to die. His re­marks were af­ter­ward pub­lished in a news­pa­per, and they were read to me by Mr. Big­low. Not ma­ny hours af­ter I heard them I be­gan to write the hymn.

However, these words al­most didn’t see light of day. They came to pub­lic no­tice by ac­ci­dent, during a con­fer­ence Fan­ny at­tend­ed at North­field, Mass­a­chu­setts. Dur­ing the meet­ing, the great evan­gel­ist, Dwight Moo­dy, asked if Fan­ny—like so many others—would give a per­son­al tes­ti­mo­ny to the au­di­ence. Not want­ing to draw at­ten­tion to her­self, she al­most de­clined, but fin­al­ly got up to speak, and said:

There is one hymn I have writ­ten which has never been pub­lished. I call it my soul’s po­em. Somet­imes when I am trou­bled, I re­peat it to my­self, for it brings comfort to my heart.

Here are the words:

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