Musings on Worship

The river of God is teeming with life and all who touch it can be revived.  (song lyrics by Andy Park)

I love this song because of its imagery.  Living in river city, I drive over the Colorado most every day, never tiring of its mystery.

I like to think of worship like a great flowing river, sometimes broad and deep, other times swift and jubilant.  Yet, worship has its boundaries, just as rivers have their banks.  Those walls are spirit and truth.  God seeks those who will worship Him in this way. (John 4:23)

One reason I love teaching children the Bible is how the study blesses my own heart.  I take it seriously, considering the lesson as much for me as for them.  My challenge yesterday, was to somehow convey to the students that worship was not just singing a song.  Rather, it involved their whole heart, mind, soul, and strength directed toward their Creator.  (Rom. 12:1-2)

That's when a river came to mind.

The bank of truth is the Word of God.  The more we know of the character of God and His attributes, the deeper our worship.  The words we sing and the life we live as we offer ourselves to Him each day, must coincide with His Word.  Without obedience we may as well send worship downstream.

The opposite bank is spirit, our inward being, where the Spirit of God dwells.  Only by His fullness can we know true worship.  We cannot fake worship, for it comes only from the heart and bubbles out in various expressions, sometimes joyous emotion, other times quiet awe, and at times, even tearful anguish.

Yet, no matter the expression, pure worship remains within the banks of spirit and truth.  One without the other creates imbalance. 

However, the most wondrous part of all, and unique to rivers and streams, is the waterfall.

When I reach the very edge of my own sufficiency, my heart plunges downward, and I cry out, "Jesus, I need you!"  In that place, life falls apart unexpected and broken.

Yet, in that moment, worship gushes out in a spray of glory.

And the river continues on, this continuous worship.  Those who linger, will come back thirsting for more, always more of His Spirit full in our lives.

The river of God fills our mouths with laughter and we rejoice for the river is here.  (song lyrics by Andy Park)

And all cry glory, for He is worthy!




However, no amount of teaching will cause children to learn of worship like watching adults participate in meaningful worship.  This is one of many reasons I love my church fellowship, because though for some parts of the morning we are divided into separate age groups, yet, for the worship time, families are kept together.  Furthermore, we have a worship pastor who truly shepherds the people of God, keeping our focus on the Lord and not show or entertainment, a rare blessing.  I am truly grateful.




 

The Serpent's Trail

An old road, now converted to trail, winds up the Colorado National Monument.  For one and three quarter miles, it rises 770 feet with nearly 20 switchbacks, the most popular trail in the area.  It makes for a perfect workout in swift time.

Yesterday, I determined to make the trek up this hill, but by the time I got there it was high noon, the sun beating down without mercy.  However, I was determined to conquer, no excuses.

The true mark of the dessert lies exposed on this trail, bearing little shade.  It offers only burning rocks and sharp precipices.  And as I marched upward, I thought on Hebrews 3 and 4, where the Israelites, whom Moses led out of Egypt, never entered the rest God had promised.  The reason?  Unbelief.

Sometimes this life seems such a battle, an uphill climb in the heat of the day.  I long for rest.  Not in the sense of leisure or sleep, but rather in relief from the struggle, release from my sin nature.  Yet, God has promised that those who believe have entered His rest.  It is ours.  Why then, is it so hard to dwell in that realm?

The trail, appropriately named after the serpent, winds back and forth.  So in the heat of the battle we fight and wrestle not only the sin nature within, but also our enemy without, the devil.  On every turn he seeks to trip, discourage, and distract.

Jesus also climbed a grueling hill entwined with the serpent, setting the pace.  And if He learned obedience from what He suffered, shouldn't I?  And if He embraced the cross, counting it all joy, shouldn't I do the same?  

Until our final breath, we fight this fight.  The moment I think I've arrived or that I can coast, is the moment of danger.   Yet, in the midst of the struggle, I can know joy because of rest in God's presence, like these pockets of flowers along the way. 

He makes the desert bloom and this time of year it is truly beautiful.  However, I'm not sure those flowers would hold quite as much meaning if placed in a lush forest.  But here, they speak volumes as they cling tenacious to the rock, searching for a hint of soil, a picture of hope.

When I reached the top of the hill, I sat for a moment to enjoy the view.  Below me were ravens soaring on updrafts against the massive cliffs.  Some of them came so near I thought they might run into me.  Such grace and power in those wings!  I was reminded that I don't have to wait until I reach heaven to know God's rest.  I can soar now if I will walk in obedience. 

There is a time to pause and enjoy the view, but sometimes we forget what is required to get there:  the sweat, salt, and grime, the forcing of the muscles to move when they shout otherwise, and the plowing forward even in the worst of conditions.

And so it is a paradox.  I fight that I might enter His rest.  Like the raven that cannot get off the ground without exerting strength in its wings, so we do not soar without obedience. 




"Therefore, since the promise of entering His rest still stands, let us be careful that none of you be found to have fallen short of it.  For we also have had the gospel preached to us, just as they did; but the message they heard was of no value to them, because those who heard did not combine it with faith."  Heb. 4:1-2

A Deeper Look

As I spoke at our Women's Brunch last weekend, I knew something had to go.  It was too long.  And so I finally succumbed to cutting an entire section with the intent of sharing it here instead.  Not because it is less important, but because of its weight. 

The topic was "Capturing the Wonders of God through Photography", and yet, I wanted to delve much deeper than our cameras to rich spiritual realities.  One aspect of taking a good picture is training the eye to see.  With that thought I was drawn to a work of art painted by one of our former high school students, Rachael Alvir.  They are two canvases, yet one unit.

The message of these paintings is so powerful that I never cease to be moved by them.  They were originally painted for our "Experience the Passion" exhibit of Good Friday and are of the two thieves crucified along with Jesus, one on either side. (Luke 23:32-33)  They represent what we will do with Jesus; either accept or reject.

What stands out is the eyes.

One, the artist shows with open eye, looking at Jesus, seeing his own need of a Savior.  Jesus responds with, "Today, you will be with me in paradise."  (Luke 23:43)

(by Rachael Alvir)

But the other criminal, righteous in his own eyes, continues to mock, rejecting Jesus, and so chooses hell.  (Luke 23:39)   The artist depicts this man not only with his eye shut, but sewn closed, not with paint, but actual threads cross stitched through the canvas.  It's as if he is afraid of seeing.  He doesn't trust himself, because if he saw, he might believe.

(by Rachael Alvir)

And isn't that like us?  We keep our lives jam packed with activity, or with our own interests and responsibilities, with noise, ignoring the still small voice that calls us to look to Jesus.  We are afraid of seeing because we might have to deal with issues . . . some change of heart we'd rather not face.

However, the thief who believed, was not immediately removed from his suffering.  The sight he saw was messy.  Likewise, our trials do not magically go away, but as we look on our suffering Savior we gain a perspective that sets them in their place, bringing comfort and hope. 

Under the blood of Jesus we are given what we do not deserve . . . grace and forgiveness.  

(by Rachael Alvir)

And under that same blood we are not given what we do deserve . . .eternal separation from God.

(by Rachael Alvir)

These pictures are disturbing, and so I show them only in sections, keeping them small.  But like Charles Swindoll says in his book titled,The Greatest Life of all, Jesus, "Sometimes the most horrific images can become the catalyst for our most significant life changes . . . only if we resist the urge to look away."

This is why, when Jesus asks the blind man, "What do you want me to do for you?"  I pray this prayer right along with him, crying out,  "Lord, I want to see!"  (Mark 10:51)


My youngest brother, who lost his wife after only six months of marriage, demonstrates this truth to me more than any other.  He dared to open his eye and place his gaze on His Savior.  He still suffers . . . deeply.  But he has gained perspective beyond the grave, into life eternal. 

I Will

When I chose 'believe' as my theme for the year, never in my wildest imaginations did I ever suppose it would come to this.

At the end of last week, my health coach called and ended the conversation with, "How can I pray for you?" I almost broke down in tears while telling her, "Courage.  Pray that I will have the courage to believe that this goal is possible."  While believing would result in a good end, at the same time it was too awful.  For to believe would require hard choices. 

I always wanted someone to come alongside me and help with my physical health, a personal trainer or a diet that I could actually keep.   Though I was finally getting what I wanted, at the same time, it was painful to admit that I could not do this on my own, that I needed a health coach.  It was, in fact, required, and not even an option, since I was the only one in my family who failed to meet the standard.


Recently I've heard snippets of the radio speaker and pastor, James MacDonald, who just finished a series on "Humble Yourself".  Jesus, at the last supper, took up a towel and served his followers by washing their feet.  That was his last message to them.  Humble yourself.

When I don't know what to do and my heart is overwhelmed with unrest, I'm reminded that those two little words, "humble yourself" is the best thing I can do to resolve the conflict.  

In all my life, I have never before had to fight with health.  Strength comes natural to me, genetics hearty, and numbers superb.   Now as I seek to meet the requirement, God has opened my eyes to the immense and overwhelming beast this is to tackle.   I have gained a renewed compassion for those who've struggled in this area their entire lives.

Our culture has a prejudice against 'the wrong shaped' people.  We sneer down our noses at them and mutter simple solutions, as if we are somehow superior . . . as if we do not have our own issues we fight to control.   Some weaknesses are better hidden than others, but that doesn't make them any less severe.

It is so easy to put on our false fronts and throw that image out to the public.  We don't want them to see the real person inside, the person that struggles to overcome in an area, or that fails time and time again, who is crying out for help, but too ashamed to ask.  

Lately, God has been laying bare my heart, showing how desperately I need Him.  He looks deeply into my eyes and says, "You can.  Now believe it, and act."  I know, that doesn't sound like right theology.  In actuality I cannot do anything.  It is God in me that gives me the strength, discipline, and power to overcome. 

Yet, all my life I have beaten myself up to the point that my focus was all on my weakness rather than on God's strength, a backwards sort of pride.  To get past myself is to say with confidence, "I can".   It seems a paradox, but it actually turns the focus away from myself and onto Him.  By God's strength, I can, because nothing is impossible with Him. (Matt. 19:26)  He asks me to simply believe. 

If the truth be known, it is not that I cannot, but that I won't.  It comes down to obedience and not so much an, "I can", but that "I will".  I have to want the right choice even though my flesh screams against it.  When I truly desire it, then the fight seems won before it begins. 

When Jesus went to the cross, much of the battle was fought in the garden.  There he surrendered his will to the Father's will.  Am I above Him to think that I will not have to go through the same surrender, the same aligning of my will to my Father's? 

Humility sweeps over me when I realize my heart is prone to wander and that deep down I do not really want to change.  But far off in the distance I see a light of hope, and I fix my eyes on it.  That light is the courage to believe which moves my heart toward the will to obey.  And so forgetting what is behind, "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  (Phil. 3:14)

 I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.  (Phil. 4:13) 




(Pictures taken from the Bible camp my brother manages, Camp Morrow, in Wamic, OR)  

High Tide

Seeking to be heard above the roar of the waves, I shouted, "Get back!  Run!" but to no avail.  I could only watch helpless as an angry ocean swept against my husband and youngest daughter, soaking their jeans.  

This all began after we first walked through an open cave, (which I told you about in my last post), and headed north along the Oregon coast.  At the place where we entered the tunnel, it was dry, but the other end was wet, emptying onto a beach quickly filling with water.  Making a run between waves we made it through, knowing full well we were now at the mercy of the tide.  There would be no turning back.

Driftwood clung to the steep bank, a warning that the waves could reach us if they felt so inclined.  The rocks trapped us from escaping north or south, and I began to feel claustrophobic.  Should the tide come in too far, it would engulf us.

My family was not worried, but I panicked.  Urging them along with me, I clamored up the steep sides and found a safe perch where we could watch the show. 

After a time, my husband and youngest daughter felt brave and decided to climb down from the bank and sit on a rock just below the driftwood.  It was as if the ocean felt threatened and took the challenge, for on the very next wave it reached out and grabbed them.   Summer clung to her dad with all her might, but both managed to hold their anchor on that little rock.

While it gave me an adrenaline rush to watch, it also triggered a longing.  Secretly I wished I had been down there, water moving dangerous, exhilarated by the thrill, a participator rather than an onlooker.

Then the realization began to sink in.  Though my respite from the blogging world has been refreshing, it has also been safe.  Too safe.   I hear God calling me from the high bank and into the action.  So the breakers might engulf, I might feel terrified, and I might worry at the tide.  But clinging to my Savior, nothing can truly harm me.  I would rather be in the waves, enjoying life fully, than watching from the shore and missing the growth.   

The network is swamped with bloggers, many already saying what I mean to say. . . only better.  I get discouraged thinking, Why does the world need yet another blogger?   But, as I'm sure you've heard it said, just because the lilac next to me blooms profusely, doesn't mean I should not stretch to the Son with my own pink blossoms.  To hold back is to deprive others of beauty and blessing in a way that only I can give. 

I admit, it is hard to be vulnerable.  To click the publish button always gives me second thoughts and some self doubt.  At the same time, I'm learning that it is good for me, because in the place of risk and inadequacy is faith and God's enabling.  I want to live in a realm where life is at its fullest.  In the process of blogging, I'm forced to lean hard on the Lord, yet, always find His grace sufficient.  And that, coupled with the thought that I might encourage someone out there, even if only one, is worth it all. 

Thanks for hanging with me through this journey.

Windows to Life

Nothing causes me to think about the power of God like the ocean. 

Alive with energy, it remains wild and unpredictable.  Recently my family and I visited the Oregon coast.  It was my request that we go out at high tide, but I was not prepared for such violent waves, nor that it could pen us in and pull us down under its force. 

Our cabin was very near the shore and I wondered, what stops the waves from sweeping us out to the deep?   I know it is God who commands the sea to roll or stop.  He sets its boundaries so that it comes only this far and no further. 

Yet, there appeared to be only a small grassy bank keeping that massive Pacific in its place.  How can a few bushes, a rail fence, and a slight elevation stop the sea?  The slope seemed dwarfed and insignificant compared to the mass of water. 

Since it is God who created the world and holds it in place with His sustaining power, could He not also bring life from the dead?   And why would I be surprised that He would move a heavy stone from a tomb?  Yet, Jesus, in His risen body could walk through walls.  What reason would God have to remove the stone? 

Simply put, it was for us.  He invites us to "come and see," because He wants to be known. 

In order to get from one beach to another, there was a tunnel through the rock, a narrow passageway scattered with these peep holes on one end.  They were about 4 or 5 inches in diameter, quite small.  But if you placed your face right to them, a pocket of ocean could be seen. 

My pastor spoke just this morning of how God is far greater than our comprehension, but sometimes the scope through which we are looking has made Him out to be small.  I could not help but think of these peep holes in the rock.  . .

And of that hole in the tomb, a window into the wonder of what lies beyond.  It was for us that God rolled the stone away.  He wanted us to peer deeply into life, to witness the power of God, to see the evidence and believe. 

Everywhere I look I see fingerprints of God's handiwork.  Yet, nothing surpasses the cleansing forgiveness and relationship our risen Savior offers to us.  There are times when waves and wind seem personal and call me to their enchantment.  But never can the creation lift me to my soul's true purpose like Jesus, the giver of life.

In this season of blossoming trees, springing flowers, and tender gardens, I cannot help but wonder at those who do not believe.  What are their thoughts on a dormant winter coming to life, of seeds set in the ground where silent and unseen their resurrection soon becomes evident? 

Surely, Jesus is God and is risen from the dead, just as He said it would happen.  He earnestly calls us to Himself.  May He give each of us eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to respond.

Have a blessed Easter!





 

The Shepherd's Heart

The sheep came eager, supposing the rancher brought hay.

But he came instead, for a lamb caught in a twisted culvert.  And the sheep wandered off . . . no longer interested.

And isn't that like Good Friday?  Jesus miraculously fed the crowds and they came back for more, in search of a king.  But when He said, "This is my body, broken," and "this is my blood, spilled," they were offended.  The people thought Jesus unattractive, and hopeless as a lamb abandoned in a rusted out culvert.
    

Holding fast to a cross, Jesus bore the shame of the world, and suffocated under the wrath of God.  It was too ugly, too personal for the crowds to accept.  Yet, even in their rejection their cries spoke the way, "May His blood be on us and our children."  (Matt. 27:25)  If only they had known how rich were those words!  Indeed, unless His blood be on us we perish.

This wandering from the way, a curiosity leading to entrapment, the Lamb of God willingly bore in our stead.  We sought freedom through good deeds, but the culvert would not budge, the law, immovable.

There was no other way but for the father to send his own son.

God made flesh, fulfilled His purpose:  death on a tree, crying,  "It is finished!"

With grunts and groans, like birthing a child, the lamb is pulled out.  The God man raised to life, the first fruits of all who believe, born to eternal life.

In that moment, the shepherd holds the lamb tender, 

                                                                            
                                                                                  then sends him out to seek his own.

So too, for those who believe, God our Father holds gently, soothing our fears, and binding up our wounds.

For we were like sheep going astray, but now we have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of our souls.                    (1 Pet.2:25)

It truly is a good Friday, a Friday like none other, and I am forever grateful.   

"Like newborn babies, crave pure spiritual milk, so that by it you may grow up in your salvation, now that you have tasted that the Lord is good."  (1 Pet. 2:2-3)