The topic of worship has been a constant thought this past week especially, but has been something I have spent a significant amount of time thinking about a good share of my life. I was raised in a Christian home and attended a small Baptist church three times a week for as long as I can remember. Church was so much a routine that we didn’t think twice about going. You went because its what you did on Sundays. Church was pretty boring when I was a kid. I would count the ceiling’s wood planks; count the number of pieces of glass that made up the stained glass window. After sometime, I became a student. Not so much a student of the Bible but in listening and watching the way church worked. The Pastor’s message would start with a story, usually humorous, then a bit of scripture that he would explain, then his voice would escalate and his fists would beat towards us as he boomed that we needed Jesus, that we were going to hell without Him. Finally it ended with him in tears and a long, a very long prayer (this is when I checked out people’s shoes). This is why I didn’t like church. It was predictable. It was routine. I knew what I was going to hear, what I was expected to do, say and sing. I wondered where God was in all of this hub-bub. It sure looked and sounded a lot like a dog and pony show. (Not that I disagreed with the Bible message, not at all. It was the routine and perhaps even the heart behind the words that didn’t sit right with me. And I always wondered if the Holy Spirit was really this predictable.)
You would think from hearing about my church experience as a child that I don’t attend church as an adult. I do and I love it. (The Lord got a hold of me many years ago and revealed Himself in a way that was meaningful to me and gave me a genuine heart for Him…another story for another day) My favorite part of church is the preaching. I enjoy the other elements as well but it is in these parts of the service that I wrestle, the same parts I wrestled with as a child. Let me explain my struggle by posing a few questions: Do we allow our hearts to side step routine and ritual often enough to worship genuinely? Has Sunday morning become something we can do in our sleep (figuratively, of course)? Or perhaps the most important question: How often do we glimpse something that stirs up complete wonder and awe within our hearts, where we feel we’ve no choice but to fall to our knees and praise God?
Organized worship is still difficult for me. A good share of the time I am too aware of other people’s presence more than God’s. There have been times I feel forced to perform (i.e. sing, partake in communion, etc.), because it’s expected. And then there have been other times I literally want to fall to my knees, raise my hands to the heavens and imagine Him reaching back to me. But I don’t. I wouldn’t dare. My pride is far too big (unfortunately) for that in a setting like church. How pathetic, I know. And how I’ve probably missed out on some incredible moments with the Lord. Not, that this would necessarily be an acceptable way to worship in my church either.
I used to think there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't worshipping right when I wasn't visibly touched by a song or a message to move me to tears or to raise my hands, afterall, so many around me were. After much thought and reflection, I honestly believe there are many ways to worship the Lord. Not all of them come out in a physical way but every time our hearts will be penetrated by immeasurable gratitude and love for the Lord. When and why do we worship? When we are fully aware of our dependence on God for all we have and hope to have; out of a heart of thankfulness, praise, respect, and honor.
I’m a nature girl… would give just anything to be outside, especially in my gardens. This week as I was pulling weeds and contemplating worship, feeling rather discouraged with church as a whole, I looked up to the most beautiful turquoise colored sky spotted with puffy white clouds…so crystal clear…so much a gift…that all I could manage to say while on my knees and tears running down my face is, “I believe in you.” I believe that is worship. Worship is more than the 8 pack of crayolas…what you expect to see. I think it’s more like the 64 pack, coming in various shades, brilliancy and depth. Turquoise sky…still takes my breath away.
What is worship? It is self-forgetting, humble and God-exalting.
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