La Donna is in St. Louis for a UMW event, Maddie is at University of Indianapolis for a Conference Youth Retreat, so it was just me and the crazy dogs and the grumpy upstairs cats this weekend. And then God spoke to me.
OK, that sounds more ... scriptural ... more ... supernatural ... more ... insane than I intended it to sound. Truth be told, I was looking forward to a somewhat uneventful Sunday worship experience, tucked away here in the midst of a couple of hectic but exciting weeks. It is an opportunity to celebrate Thanksgiving not caught up in the throes of another theme or series. A quiet, catch our breath sort of worship experience that lets us head into the holiday with a little more equilibrium, a little more peace of mind. Nothing wrong with that. A sleepy little thanksgiving celebration that feels like a pat on the head from a favorite aunt, perfect, gentle, quiet. Sounds nice, doesn’t it. Then God spoke to me.
Let’s define terms here. Before you call the Bishop to report my delusions, let me give a little context. Yes, ok, I’ve been on my own for a while, La Donna left after we attended a workshop on Wesley and the theology of mission on Tuesday. That ought to raise a few eyebrows, from those who know me well enough to know that without my wife’s reality-grounding presence, I’m likely to head for the ledge. But that’s not it, honest.
Secondly, this retreat that Maddie is attending is one I suggested to her. It is called “Exploration: Youth.” It is about listening for the call of God. Maybe I’m biased, but I think God has great things in store for Maddie. Oh, I know, God has great things in store for everyone, I’m not disputing that. If all the youth of the church were available for a weekend’s exploration of vocation, I would have been excited about sending them all. Maddie, the try anything once kid, was only a little skeptical but readily agreed to go and we signed her up.
I drove her down last night and the parents/mentors (and I guess I was there as both) were invited to stay for a meeting and opening worship. The meeting was an explanation and a promise that they would take care of our precious ones. Then we moved into worship. The bishop preached. The chaplain led worship and played guitar, some young folks were the praise band (even a praise cello - that was kinda cool) and there were familiar songs in a setting I knew well. And it was awful. Simply awful.
Forgive me, you aren’t supposed to say that about an act of worship. Are you? There was sincerity, I am sure, and earnestness. The bishop brought an appropriate and well-crafted Word, we took communion (dinner rolls stuck together ready for baking - ?) which is perfect worship in and of itself. So, why the whining? Because God spoke to me.
It wasn’t a voice, I didn’t see bright lights and get knocked off my horse like St. Paul on his way to Damascus. If anything it was Maddie’s raised eyebrows from across the room. But it sounded like a shout in my soul. “This is how you worship me?” “This is bringing your best before the Lord?” We were there with young people who were exploring whether God was calling them to lead the church in some form or another and this was what we started with!!? Now that I write that, I wonder if it wasn’t intentional. If they weren’t trying to say we are so desperate for someone to lead, we need you, fix us. Dear God, I hope not. If that was the plan, I suspect it had the opposite effect. The smart thing to do is to run from a sinking ship, not to climb aboard and take the helm.
The voice said my people don’t know how to worship me any more. The voice said worship is an expression of our deepest selves, our offering to God - the God we love with all our heart and soul and mind and strength. All, for heaven’s sake. All, for Christ’s sake. And this limp, tired, mind wandering, wishing it were over kind of thing is so far from a true worship experience that is no wonder that people are dribbling away from the church today.
So far, this isn’t a new experience for me. I hear that voice often. Even, I’m ashamed to admit, sometimes when I am leading worship. I frequently hear that voice of assessment, of dissatisfaction, of disapproval in the midst of worship. Some people say I’m too critical, too cynical. Go with the flow, take it easy, quit worrying so much about it. Good enough is good enough. Grumble, grumble.
What was new this time, however, was that the voice didn’t stop with assessment, with critique. The voice - I say the voice, but it was not a voice, it was a silence that shouted in my soul. The silence said “teach them.” Yes, well, I argued, because we always argue with the silence that calls us to action, I’ve got a job to do. I’m keeping the doors open and the roof on. I’m making sure something happens. I am teaching, in my own way, about worship. I am. Week after week, I teach, I show, I try to engage folks in an experience of true worship. I am. Really. I am.
No, the silence said, you are settling. You are going through the motions. You are worrying about the wrong things. The order, the schedule, the starting and ending time, the technology, the attendance, the offerings – this is what you worry about. You worry about keeping everyone happy. You worry about not being too outrageous, about not choosing hymns no one knows. You worry about making it easy, about making it accessible. You worry about good enough. And it isn’t, not by a long shot. My people are hungry for true worship, because you worry too much. And not enough.
Matthew 6:25-34 "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 28 And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you-- you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 "So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today.
This passage is not and has never been a self help treatise about reducing anxiety in our hectic lives. It is instead a call to worship. It is an invitation to set aside anything that keeps you from being present for God. It is an opportunity to reorder our lives, to be reminded what we were created for and to live gratefully for the opportunity to fulfill that calling. It’s about moving whatever it is that keeps us from engaging in worship, living in gratitude to God, moving it out of the way so that we can find our selves again.
I took my daughter to a retreat to maybe help her find a hint toward vocation. And just may have found mine. I want to teach people how to worship. I want to go where God sends me to work with clergy and laity to seek first the Kingdom. And I want to start right here. Right now.
Buckle your seat belts.
Shalom,
Derek
OK, that sounds more ... scriptural ... more ... supernatural ... more ... insane than I intended it to sound. Truth be told, I was looking forward to a somewhat uneventful Sunday worship experience, tucked away here in the midst of a couple of hectic but exciting weeks. It is an opportunity to celebrate Thanksgiving not caught up in the throes of another theme or series. A quiet, catch our breath sort of worship experience that lets us head into the holiday with a little more equilibrium, a little more peace of mind. Nothing wrong with that. A sleepy little thanksgiving celebration that feels like a pat on the head from a favorite aunt, perfect, gentle, quiet. Sounds nice, doesn’t it. Then God spoke to me.
Let’s define terms here. Before you call the Bishop to report my delusions, let me give a little context. Yes, ok, I’ve been on my own for a while, La Donna left after we attended a workshop on Wesley and the theology of mission on Tuesday. That ought to raise a few eyebrows, from those who know me well enough to know that without my wife’s reality-grounding presence, I’m likely to head for the ledge. But that’s not it, honest.
Secondly, this retreat that Maddie is attending is one I suggested to her. It is called “Exploration: Youth.” It is about listening for the call of God. Maybe I’m biased, but I think God has great things in store for Maddie. Oh, I know, God has great things in store for everyone, I’m not disputing that. If all the youth of the church were available for a weekend’s exploration of vocation, I would have been excited about sending them all. Maddie, the try anything once kid, was only a little skeptical but readily agreed to go and we signed her up.
I drove her down last night and the parents/mentors (and I guess I was there as both) were invited to stay for a meeting and opening worship. The meeting was an explanation and a promise that they would take care of our precious ones. Then we moved into worship. The bishop preached. The chaplain led worship and played guitar, some young folks were the praise band (even a praise cello - that was kinda cool) and there were familiar songs in a setting I knew well. And it was awful. Simply awful.
Forgive me, you aren’t supposed to say that about an act of worship. Are you? There was sincerity, I am sure, and earnestness. The bishop brought an appropriate and well-crafted Word, we took communion (dinner rolls stuck together ready for baking - ?) which is perfect worship in and of itself. So, why the whining? Because God spoke to me.
It wasn’t a voice, I didn’t see bright lights and get knocked off my horse like St. Paul on his way to Damascus. If anything it was Maddie’s raised eyebrows from across the room. But it sounded like a shout in my soul. “This is how you worship me?” “This is bringing your best before the Lord?” We were there with young people who were exploring whether God was calling them to lead the church in some form or another and this was what we started with!!? Now that I write that, I wonder if it wasn’t intentional. If they weren’t trying to say we are so desperate for someone to lead, we need you, fix us. Dear God, I hope not. If that was the plan, I suspect it had the opposite effect. The smart thing to do is to run from a sinking ship, not to climb aboard and take the helm.
The voice said my people don’t know how to worship me any more. The voice said worship is an expression of our deepest selves, our offering to God - the God we love with all our heart and soul and mind and strength. All, for heaven’s sake. All, for Christ’s sake. And this limp, tired, mind wandering, wishing it were over kind of thing is so far from a true worship experience that is no wonder that people are dribbling away from the church today.
So far, this isn’t a new experience for me. I hear that voice often. Even, I’m ashamed to admit, sometimes when I am leading worship. I frequently hear that voice of assessment, of dissatisfaction, of disapproval in the midst of worship. Some people say I’m too critical, too cynical. Go with the flow, take it easy, quit worrying so much about it. Good enough is good enough. Grumble, grumble.
What was new this time, however, was that the voice didn’t stop with assessment, with critique. The voice - I say the voice, but it was not a voice, it was a silence that shouted in my soul. The silence said “teach them.” Yes, well, I argued, because we always argue with the silence that calls us to action, I’ve got a job to do. I’m keeping the doors open and the roof on. I’m making sure something happens. I am teaching, in my own way, about worship. I am. Week after week, I teach, I show, I try to engage folks in an experience of true worship. I am. Really. I am.
No, the silence said, you are settling. You are going through the motions. You are worrying about the wrong things. The order, the schedule, the starting and ending time, the technology, the attendance, the offerings – this is what you worry about. You worry about keeping everyone happy. You worry about not being too outrageous, about not choosing hymns no one knows. You worry about making it easy, about making it accessible. You worry about good enough. And it isn’t, not by a long shot. My people are hungry for true worship, because you worry too much. And not enough.
Matthew 6:25-34 "Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 28 And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you-- you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 "So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today.
This passage is not and has never been a self help treatise about reducing anxiety in our hectic lives. It is instead a call to worship. It is an invitation to set aside anything that keeps you from being present for God. It is an opportunity to reorder our lives, to be reminded what we were created for and to live gratefully for the opportunity to fulfill that calling. It’s about moving whatever it is that keeps us from engaging in worship, living in gratitude to God, moving it out of the way so that we can find our selves again.
I took my daughter to a retreat to maybe help her find a hint toward vocation. And just may have found mine. I want to teach people how to worship. I want to go where God sends me to work with clergy and laity to seek first the Kingdom. And I want to start right here. Right now.
Buckle your seat belts.
Shalom,
Derek
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