Here’s another reason that so many of us at Care-age of Brookfield are thankful, not only at Thanksgiving but throughout the year: the preaching of Chris Carrillo, which we are able to hear, enjoy and learn from during our monthly Christian Music Hours.
 
Entitled "The Ship of Fools," this month’s message drew inspiration from Psalm 135:15-21:
 
15The idols of the nations are silver and gold,
The work of men’s hands.
16 They have mouths, but they do not speak;
Eyes they have, but they do not see;
17 They have ears, but they do not hear;
Nor is there any breath in their mouths.
18 Those who make them are like them;
So is everyone who trusts in them.
19 Bless the Lord, O house of Israel!
Bless the Lord, O house of Aaron!
20 Bless the Lord, O house of Levi!
You who fear the Lord, bless the Lord!
21 Blessed be the Lord out of Zion,
Who dwells in Jerusalem!
Praise the Lord!
 
Sound familiar? It should, as Chris points out in this important and timely message:

I’m sad to report that I’m almost done reading To the Golden Shore, the 1956 biography of Adoniram Judson, pioneering American missionary to Burma. I’m trying to nurse it, but my frequent middle-of-the-night reading excursions are taking their toll and I will soon be turning the last page.
 
It has been a life-changing journey for me.
 
I won’t even try to describe the sacrifices that Judson and his family and colleagues made to bring the gospel to the Burmese people in the first half of the 19th century.  The hardships they suffered are almost unimaginable to a pampered 21st century American. But reading this detailed account of their trials has perhaps given me a little insight into what the apostle Paul meant when he wrote “To me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21).
 
Jesus’ half-brother James instructed the followers of Christ to “count it all joy when you fall into various trials” (James 1:2). Judson didn’t always do so, at least not in immediate response to setbacks and sorrows; at times, he became discouraged and depressed, and he struggled mightily with doubts about his own motives for his service to the Lord.
 
But I’m certain that he agreed wholeheartedly with Paul’s reminder that “the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18).

Over his decades of service, many Burmese did come to Christ thanks to Judson's courage, commitment and relentless determination. And the Lord allowed him to see at least some of the fruit of his labors.  For instance, in the wake of the death of a woman named Mah Men-lay, the first Burmese woman converted to Christianity, he received this report about her last days:

“She is not inclined to converse much; but how delighted you would be to hear her, now and then, talk of entering heaven and of meeting Mrs. Judson, and other pious friends! The other day, after having dwelt for some time on the delightful subject, and [mentioning] the names of all the friends she should rejoice to meet, not omitting dear little Maria, she stopped short, and exclaimed, ‘But first of all, I shall hasten to where my Saviour sits, and fall down, and worship him, for his great love in sending the teachers to show me the way to heaven.’” (To the Golden Shore, Judson Press, 1987 edition, page 383)
 
As the great hymnist Isaac Watts wrote in “When I Survey the Wondrous Cross” (1707), “Were the whole realm of nature mine, that were a present far too small; love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all.”
 
No word on whether Adoniram Judson knew that particular hymn. But he certainly lived its teaching, and that of the biblical passages that sparked it.
 
What an inspiration it is to read about the lives of the missionaries who, over the centuries, have “died to self” daily for the sake of the gospel (see, for example, Galatians 2:20 and John 12:24, among many passages that admonish us to follow suit). I pray that the Lord would give us, His followers today, just a fraction of the fire that fueled these men and women; perhaps we really could win the world for Him!  

For our Sunday adult Bible studies at Brookside Baptist Church, we’re privileged every now and then to sit under the teaching of Dr. David Saxon, a Maranatha Baptist University professor with advanced degrees in church history. His lectures on great Christians of the past have inspired a number of us to seek out the books he recommends – five-star books from Here I Stand (about Martin Luther) to The Anabaptist Story (about the Radical Reformation). And his charming wife Jamie has added more to our Must Read lists, particularly with her glowing recommendations of the writings of British biographer Faith Cook.
 
But learning about these courageous people and their eras made me want to put it all in historical context. Dr. Saxon suggested The Story of Christianity by Justo L. Gonzalez – and I can add my enthusiastic endorsement to this recommendation.    
 
I recently finished Volume 1: The Early Church to the Dawn of the Reformation. In it, Dr. Gonzalez takes the reader from Christianity’s early days in 1st century Palestine through the upheavals of the Renaissance, then crosses the Atlantic to describe the early days of colonial Christianity.  Every step of the way, he presents Christianity's theological and ecclesiastic development in the context of major events in world history.
 
What’s more, Dr. Gonzalez does it all in highly readable and compelling language. In fact, while I was reading it, I often woke up at 2 or 3 a.m. and, instead of turning over to slumber on, got up to read another chapter or two.
 
These middle-of-the-night reading binges have actually become a recurring problem with all of the books the Saxons have recommended. Right now, it’s To the Golden Shore, the story of 19th century missionary Adoniram Judson, that’s keeping me up at night.
 
One of these days I’m going to have to pick up some boring modern novel in order to get a good night’s sleep. But first, I really need to get ahold of Volume 2: The Story of Christianity, and maybe Fearless Pilgrim, Faith Cook’s reputedly stellar biography of John Bunyan, and then perhaps her books on Selina, Countess of Huntingdon, and on various hymn writers …  

The 1967 movie Camelot is one of my all-time favorites -- great story, wonderful acting, and oh, the music! I spent much of my childhood playing Lerner and Loewe’s original Broadway score on the piano, neglecting the exercises so meticulously prescribed by my piano teacher. Today, over a half century later, I still sing these numbers to myself regularly, forgetting not a word or a note or the raw emotion in every line.  
 
Lately, the song “What Do the Simple Folk Do?” has been haunting me. In case you’re not familiar with it, it’s sung by Queen Guinevere and King Arthur (Vanessa Redgrave and Richard Harris in the movie; Julie Andrews and Richard Burton on Broadway). The catalyst is Guinevere’s secret love for Sir Lancelot du Lac, and Arthur’s unspoken knowledge of their affair.
 
Alone together, both of them heartsick but not speaking of the cause, Guinevere asks Arthur in song:
 
What do the simple folk do
To help them escape when they're blue?
The shepherd who is ailing, the milkmaid who is glum,
The cobbler who is wailing from nailing his thumb?
When they're beset and besieged –
The folk not noblessly obliged –
However do they manage to shed their weary lot?
Oh, what do simple folk do we do not?
 
Arthur offers her several solutions: They whistle. They sing. They dance a fiery dance. Arthur and Guinevere try each one, but find no relief. He has only one more solution to offer: “They sit around and wonder what royal folk would do.”
 
It strikes me that this song is really a profound analysis of very common human behaviors – for these are among the things most of us do to try to mend our hearts, to bury our troubles, to silence our consciences.  
 
We mask our sadness with happy music.
 
Steep our fears in frenetic exercise, wild dancing, morning-to-night activity.
 
Saturate ourselves with ultimately futile obsessions, from celebrity worship to non-stop pursuit of entertainment, education, art, travel, clothes, home-decorating. 
 
Anything to avoid being alone with our thoughts. And with the truth.
 
No wonder none of it works for long. A guilty simply conscience cannot be silenced. 
 
I find it interesting that Lerner and Loewe failed to offer one more possible cure for heartache in this song, the one cure that is both foolproof and permanent: turning from sin and to the Lord, asking Him for forgiveness, and consulting His word for the keys to eternal peace and joy.
 
Just think: If Guinevere, Arthur and Lancelot had done that, there could actually have been a happy ending to this tragic tale. And Camelot might have survived for more than "one brief shining moment."