Those times remain etched in my heart because an assailant at the Covenant School in Nashville shot and killed that custodian. I flew back to Tennessee to play for Mike Hill one last time – at his funeral. The opening hymn, Great is Thy Faithfulness, includes the line I often use in my prayers, “Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.” Sitting at the piano, just a few yards from the casket of that dear man, I purposed to play that hymn with zeal and passion – as a believer, not just a mourner.

Praying during seasons “…when sorrows like sea billows roll” can be difficult. The words seem elusive, and faith often falters. Caring for my wife, Gracie, for nearly forty years through a relentless and painful journey of severe disabilities, those seasons of sorrow often seem interminable. What do I petition God to do in those times: ease her pain, grow her legs back, or guide the surgeon’s hands on her upcoming 86th operation?
All those questions (and many more) have flooded over me countless times. Yet, in those moments, I find solace in the hymnal. A pianist longer than a caregiver, I regularly retreat to the piano in dark moments when words fail. Picking up a hymnal, I find comfort, strength, and resilience in the prayers of those who penned the cries of their hearts and set them to music.
The stories behind those hymns add an even greater poignancy to the lyrics. Horatio Spafford’s timeless “It Is Well,” written over the watery grave of his children in the Atlantic Ocean, continues to comfort people worldwide. Reverend Cleland McAfee wrote “Near to the Heart of God” after disease took the lives of his young nieces in the same week. When penning, “In seasons of distress and grief, my soul has often found relief,” William Walford pointed the world to the “…Sweet Hour of Prayer.” Despite being deserted by his father during childhood, Henry Lyte gave us the incomparable “Abide With Me,” and William Monk wrote the tune for that hymn – after the death of his three-year-old child.
Those are only a few of the countless hymns written by those who took their agony to God.
We all face moments when our heartache overpowers the ability to speak. During those times, I sit at the keyboard and use the music and words of others. Sometimes I played them in a hospital chapel, and other times, in an empty church sanctuary – particularly in a large church we attended years ago when we lived in Nashville, TN. While playing in that sanctuary, I discovered I wasn’t alone. The church’s custodian, Mike Hill, swept, organized hymnals, and frequently sat in the back to listen as I poured out my heart at the piano. I often stopped and asked if there was something I could play for him.
His simple response was always, “Just keep playing.”
Those times remain etched in my heart because an assailant at the Covenant School in Nashville shot and killed that custodian. I flew back to Tennessee to play for Mike one last time – at his funeral. The opening hymn, Great is Thy Faithfulness, includes the line I often use in my prayers, “Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow.” Sitting at the piano, just a few yards from the casket of that dear man, I purposed to play that hymn with zeal and passion – as a believer, not just a mourner. He would have wanted me to do so.
“Just keep playing.”
Even when our words fail us, a treasure trove of words remains in our church hymnal. The writers and composers of those hymns left us a legacy that provides text to our grief and strengthens our weary and troubled hearts.
The closing hymn of Mike’s funeral in Nashville echoed lines from Pastor Ray Palmer’s “My Faith Looks Up to Thee.” When waking in the “…valley of the shadow of death”, this hymn settles my soul and fixes my eyes forward.
“While life’s dark maze I treadand griefs around me spread,be Thou my guide.Bid darkness turn to day.Wipe sorrow’s tears away,not let me ever stray from Thee aside.”
While prayers seem easy to some, I often struggle to express my heart to God. In those times, I remain deeply grateful that so many took time to journal their anguish – and leave exquisite prose for those of us who often feel at a loss for words.
Peter Rosenberger hosts the nationally syndicated radio program, Hope for the Caregiver. His newest book is titled, “A Minute for Caregivers – When Every Day Feels Like Monday.” 

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She was convinced that suffering was part of the Christian life. “If the master suffered, his disciples could not expect anything better,” she wrote. “I have experienced, and I know, that this world means nothing to me anymore. I live for eternal life. Everything revolves around that. The Lord alone is our hope.”[5]Tsehay was finally freed ten years after her arrest. A while later, she began to write her memoirs with the help of a Norwegian missionary, And Saeveras.

When, on July 28, 1979, the Lutheran pastor Gudina Tumsa was abducted at the end of a church service, the troubles for his wife were far from over.[1] Kidnapped at the same time, Tsehay Tolessa was left outside the city walls without any explanations. She was never told what happened to her husband, and his body was not found until 13 years later.
But Tsehay had little time to mourn. Six months after the abduction, she was arrested, hung upside down, and beaten until her bones broke. sent, with no medical attention, to a prison cell that was so crowded that prisoners had to take turns sleeping. Even Tsehay, with her broken bones, had to stand. There were no beds or mattresses – only cold, dirty floors – and no windows or other means of ventilation.
She had barely recovered when she was tortured again three months later. The pain was worse than before. “’Won’t he come and help you, your little Jesus?’ they taunted.” They only stopped when they believed she was dead. This time, her wounds never healed up completely.
Childhood Sorrow
Editing the writings of her mother, Lensa Gudina proposed that “Born to Suffer” could have been an appropriate title. Born in 1931 to a relatively comfortable family of merchants, the fourth of five children, Tsehay was barely four when Italy declared war on Ethiopia. In 1936, Italian troops invaded her hometown of Nekemte, northwest of Addis Ababa. After taking over her father’s business, the Italians killed him for refusing to transport grenades on his truck.
The invading troops left Ethiopia in 1941, burning everything in their path. Barely surviving, Tsehay’s family was then attacked by a group of slavehunters who kidnapped Tsehay and her brother along with other children, releasing the two only when they couldn’t keep up with the fast march.
Soon, Tsehay’s mother, worn out by constant moving, stress, and lack of food, died of typhus. Some of the children contracted the same disease. Tsehay’s case was so serious that she was taken to the hospital run by a Lutheran mission. After expressing her desire to learn to read and write, she was admitted to the mission’s school, where she stayed for six years and became a Christian.
After graduation, she worked in a home for children whose parents had contracted leprosy – a widespread illness at that time – under the supervision of Pastor Allen Stefansson and his wife Signe. It was there that Tsehay met Gudina Tumsa.
For Better and for Worse
Tsehay was a beautiful woman and had already received plenty of suitors. Yet, Gudina was the only one who captured her heart. Besides their bond of love, they shared a strong faith and the same roots (they were both from the Oromo tribe, a traditionally mistreated people of southwest Ethiopia). They married and were soon graced with the birth of a son, Emmanuel.
Their joy turned to mourning when Emmanuel choked on a piece of corn that couldn’t get dislodged. His parents reached the nearest hospital (which was hours away from their home) too late to save his life.
Gudina and Tsehay had four more children and lived in relative peace for some time. Gudina continued his chosen career as surgeon’s assistant until he received an outward call to gospel ministry – a call he could not ignore. This change of plans caused some hardships for Tsehay, since money was scarce and she was left alone during Gudina’s frequent educational journeys – including three years at Luther’s Seminary, Saint Paul, Minnesota.
But the real trials started in 1977, when Gudina, then General Secretary of the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus (EECMY – with the two last words meaning “Jesus’s dwelling place”), stood up against Mengistu Haile Mariam’s Communist regime and its tyrannical attempts to claim absolute power, eliminating any opposition and keeping all churches under state control.
Gudina was first arrested in 1978 and placed on a “black list” for his refusal to work with the regime, then agtain in 1979 and held for three weeks on the charge of preaching against the ideals of the revolution.
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When church discipline is done properly, the holiness and good of the church are promoted. The negative outcomes of discipline are never desired but are a grace from God for the blessing of His church.

When I first started attending a Reformed church, I remember an announcement that was made about a former member who had been excommunicated for the sin of contumacy. I had grown up in a mainline denomination where formal discipline was never spoken of, much less practiced. I was wholly unfamiliar with the process. I had never even heard of the word contumacy. When I looked it up after the service, I learned that contumacy is a stubborn refusal to submit to authority. I knew the elders to be kind, gracious, and faithful men. Even though I didn’t quite understand what was happening, it confirmed to me that this was a church that took seriously the commands of the Bible.
This episode was perhaps my first encounter with negative church discipline, which concerns the correction of church members and the administration of censures. To understand negative church discipline and how it works, we can look at one obligation, two guides, three goals, and four outcomes.
The one obligation of the church toward its members is the command of Jesus to shepherd the sheep. The prophet Ezekiel warned of bad shepherds who cared nothing for the sheep. These bad shepherds abused, neglected, used, and even devoured the sheep (Ezek. 34). By contrast, Jesus proclaimed that He is the Good Shepherd of the sheep. He would love, care for, and protect them. The Good Shepherd would lay down His life for the sheep (John 10). He would be the Good Shepherd pictured in Psalm 23, whose rod and staff would comfort the sheep. The elders of the church are the undershepherds of Christ in how they lead the congregation (1 Peter 5:1–5). This pastoral care and comfort include discipline to keep and guide the sheep.
As Ezekiel warned, shepherds can be harsh, overbearing, and abusive. We can see this in some churches even today. Scripture therefore provides two guidelines to steer church discipline away from abuse. Discipline must be guided by decency and order (1 Cor. 14:40). Formal discipline must follow the process given in Scripture. Matthew 18 gives a decent and orderly process whereby if a brother sins against you, you are to confront him privately. If he does not repent, then you are to take along one or two brothers as witnesses. If he still does not repent, then you are to take it to the church. This is done in a decent and orderly manner by giving the offender an opportunity to fairly state his case before the elders of the church. He ought to have a chance to defend himself against the charges against him. The deliberate nature of the process often takes time. Those in the midst of the process may see that as a problem, but it is a feature of the system, not a bug. We do not want such important decisions rendered hastily. Decency and order require thoughtful, patient, and measured responses. If, however, a person is found to be in sin—and especially if he is unrepentant—he is to be disciplined, possibly to the extent of excommunication.
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