Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art;
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.
Be Thou My Vision has been my favorite song since I was a teenager. Back then, my zest for the Christian life and love for God were abundant. Since then, the winds of responsibility and daily stresses of the adult world have weathered my zest a bit. In fact, sometimes I wonder if my “best” thought is anticipating the next Saturday, when I can sleep in; or the happy news that the new tires for the car were cheaper than I thought they’d be. And then there are moments that illuminate it — that love that began when I was so young.
Such a moment occurred at my sister’s house not long ago. I noticed a row of rocks on her bookshelf, and knew without asking that she’d brought them back from Israel. She told me the story behind each one while I held it in my hand. Many Bible heroes were represented, men of faith I’d heard about all my life. There was even a smooth rock from the stream where David had selected the stone he’d used to defeat the giant Goliath. But not one stone could compare to the unremarkable-looking specimen from the Sea of Galilee. Jesus might have touched it, you see. Even if it was just the sole of his sandals, or the hem of his robe, the thought was incredible. He had walked on that very sea. He’d knelt on its shores and made breakfast for His disciples there. I needed to hold that rock again. To feel the tear-inducing awe one more time.
Of course, I know moments like those are no replacement for a conscious investment of time in the most important relationship in my life. Yet I’m grateful for one small rock . . . and the joy of knowing it was unquestionably the best.