My dad's favorite hymn was the same one his grandfather favored among all others. Both men asked that it be played at their funerals, and it was a request that was honored each time. In this great history, it bothers me to admit that it is a hymn I have never really liked.
“In the Garden” by C. Austin Miles describes a picturesque walk with Christ among roses and trees. Both chorus and verse are simple, though nonetheless stirring in the tranquil scene they depict. This is, no doubt, reason for the hymn's beloved repute; it is also, I think, the reason behind my disinterest with the song so many profess to love. The hymn describes the quiet intimacy of two friends, a comfortable afternoon in a peaceful garden, a tender companionship with the Son of God.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me;
And He tells me I am his own.
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.
It is difficult for me to relate to these lines. I find myself looking for more reverence, more complexity, less ease. It is the risen Christ -- the Son of God -- who is described in this walk. Other hymnists express being in the presence of Christ with grandeur and intensity. Isaac Watts depicts the consequence of seeing the one who died for us: “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.” Carl Boberg bows at the thought of such an encounter: “When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation/ And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart! Then I shall bow in humble adoration/ And there proclaim, my God, how great Thou art!” The relaxed intimacy in this garden is difficult for me to imagine.
Yet, it isn't a scene solely imagined. C. Austin Miles was recounting a garden scene from the Gospel of John. On the morning after the death of Jesus, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb. She was bent over with grief, and then she looked up and saw the gardener. The body she had come to anoint was missing and she thought the gardener had something to do with it. In devastated affection, she pled for the body of the one she loved, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him” (20:15b). It was the sound of her own name that opened her eyes. Jesus said to her, “Mary.” And she turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means teacher). Like all of Jesus's disciples, Mary never expected his bodily resurrection. But she was overjoyed to discover him alive with her in the garden.
There is a tendency for some of us to cling to the hard truths of Scripture, the stories weighted with doctrine and mystery, the images of a God who is “in this place,” as Jacob discovered, though we are not aware of it. Such images are right and wonderful. The Lord who draws near is one we do well to fall down and worship in awe and fear and reverence. But it is this same Lord who also calls us “friends” and bids us near, who asks we remember him with a meal and calls his own by name. To walk and talk him is a joy much like “In the Garden” describes.
The rich theology beheld in the tradition of great hymn writing is intended to be a light unto the Scriptures. It is also a path unto the same worship our fathers offered God long before us. I do not remember the funeral of my great-grandfather but I do remember singing “In the Garden” at the memorial service for my father. Like Mary, my tears paused to consider the unimaginable. I imagine she never looked at a tomb the same way again.
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Copyright © 2006 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.
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[Original illustration at this number was added to HolwickID #12301]
