October 15 | Moments Almanac | Rock

Thanks for listening to Moments Almanac for October 15th. Some people leave behind monuments, others leave behind books, and some leave their names etched in stone, their portraits hanging in museums, and their accomplishments recorded in history. And then there are people like Thomas Hastings. He left behind a melody. And nearly two centuries later the church is still singing it. On this day in 1784, Thomas Hastings was born in Washington, Connecticut. He entered the world with a condition that would make his life more difficult. Thomas had albinism, a condition that affected the pigmentation of his skin and hair. He also struggled with poor eyesight. In an age without modern visual aids or accommodations, those challenges were significant, and yet this boy with limited vision would spend his life helping other people see the eternal. Now Thomas Hastings didn't grow up with the advantages we might expect from a great musician. He was largely self taught. He didn't emerge from some prestigious European conservatory. He didn't have the benefit of years of formal musical training, but he had an ear for music, and perhaps more importantly, he had a heart for worship. He believed that singing was more than something Christians did between the announcements and the sermon. Music was a way of teaching truth, a way of expressing faith, a way of giving voice to things too deep for ordinary conversation, and so he devoted himself to improving the music of the church. He taught, he composed, he compiled collections of sacred music. He spent decades serving the church through music, including many years as a choir director in New York City. Over his lifetime he produced an astonishing body of work, contributing to roughly fifty volumes of church music and composing hundreds of hymn tunes. Think about that, a man who struggled to see the notes on a page spent his life writing music that would help other generations lift their eyes toward heaven. But of all the melodies Thomas Hasting composed, one would become his most enduring contribution, and chances are you've sung it. Rock of Ages cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee. Now Hastings didn't write the words. They came from the pen of an English minister named Augustus Toplady, who wrote the hymn decades before Hastings was born. Toplady died in 1778, and Hastings was born six years later. Two men never met. They never exchanged letters. They never sat together at a piano and worked on a hymn. One wrote the words and the other years later supplied the melody that would become familiar to generations of American Christians. In 1830 Hastings composed the tune We Know as Top Lady. And something remarkable happened. The words and the music found each other. A hymn finding refuge in Christ was joined to a melody that seemed to carry the weight of its message. Not flashy, not complicated, but just strong enough to hold the words, and tender enough to carry a prayer. Let the water and the blood from thy wounded side which flowed be of sin the double cure, save from wrath and make me pure. There's something deeply moving about that hymn. It it doesn't celebrate human achievement, it doesn't boast about strength. In fact, it does precisely the opposite. It reminds us that we cannot save ourselves. We need refuge. We need mercy. We need a savior. And isn't it interesting that a man who lived with physical limitations would become so closely associated with a hymn about our need for divine strength? I don't know whether Thomas Hastings ever thought about that connection, but I do. Because we live in a world that celebrates the spectacular, we applaud the extraordinary, we admire people who seem to have every advantage the strongest, the brightest, the most talented, the most gifted, and yet God has a long history of doing extraordinary things through people who know their limitations. Moses struggled with speaking, Paul carried a thorn in the flesh, and Thomas Hastings struggled with his eyesight, but none of those limitations had the final word. The apostle Paul heard the Lord say, My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is perfected in weakness. Perhaps that's something worth remembering today. Your limitations don't necessarily disqualify you from making a lasting difference. Your struggles may become part of the story God uses, and the work you do faithfully, quietly, without any applause, may reach places you will never go. Thomas Hastings couldn't have imagined all the people who would someday sing his music. He couldn't have imagined the little country churches, the great sanctuaries, the hospital rooms, the funerals, the quiet moments when someone exhausted by grief or burdened by life would whisper those familiar words Rock of Ages cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee. He couldn't have known how far that melody would travel. But he didn't have to. He simply had to be faithful with the gift he had been given. And that's the lesson today. We spend so much of our lives wondering whether we're doing what matters, whether anyone notices whether the small things we do will make any difference, but faithfulness isn't measured by what we can see. Sometimes the most important things we do will bear fruit long after we're gone. Thomas Hastings died on may fifteenth, eighteen seventy two, at the age of eighty-seven. Eventually his hand stopped composing, his voice fell silent, and the world moved on, but the melody remained. And somewhere this Sunday, in a country church or a crowded sanctuary, someone will stand and sing about a rock that never moves, a refuge that never fails, a savior whose grace is enough, and a man who struggled to see the world will help another generation see the Savior. Not a bad legacy for a self-taught musician from Connecticut. Not bad at all. Because some people leave behind monuments, some leave behind books, and some leave behind a song. A song that keeps singing long after the singer is gone. And perhaps that's enough. Perhaps that's more than enough. Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me hide myself in thee. And that's Moments Almanac for October 15th. I hope you'll join me tomorrow. Until then, remember that you don't have to see the whole future to make a difference in it. You simply have to be faithful with the song you've been given.