Worship part II: From Ignorance to Arrogance

So...This is the last of my two posts on the subject of worship (though I'm sure it will come up again at some point). Worship is a huge part of my life, as mentioned before, but there's this love-hate relationship that I keep coming back to about the narrow definition of worship that we have as 20 something middle class Americans who (let's face it) have spent most of their lives in relative comfort. I run into this problem because I don't feel like we can actually ever grasp the true meaning and purpose of worship. I feel like money solves so many problems here. Are we as grateful for God as we are for our ability to move autonomously in this economy? Should we be worshiping money? Don't we already do that?

Worship is a reflection of our need for God. If we could really understand that, I feel like worship would be constantly flowing out of us, in every form, from singing and dancing, to poetry and photography, and sacrificial love and acts of servant hood. Worship is our response to God's romance. I have several friends right now who are in love. As an outside observer, sometimes I find this annoying, because they talk about their significant others so much, as though I am as in love with this person as they are. The only response I can think of is "wow, you really like him/her a lot, don't you?" I think that is how our worship should be. That we are so in love with God that we are constantly singing and dancing, and talk about him so much, because we forget that everyone else isn't as in love with God as we are. And as God removes certain forms of bitterness from me, I've come to see my friend's (and siblings) relationships in a new light. I have grown to love people through that constant observation of my friends/brothers/sisters love for them. Love is more contagious than bitterness, envy, or even apathy. I actually think that's how evangelism is supposed to work too. Love is contagious.

So, I guess the question really is this: Is all that stuff I just said really what happens when I worship?

The answer is actually kind of complicated.

Sometimes when I am in the middle of worship, and I feel like my heart just isn't in it, I don't sing. I know how dangerous it is to base you spirituality on your emotions, so, sometimes when I feel that way, I sing even louder. I don't really think there's any real pattern to when and why I do this. I'm just confused a little, I guess. I want to be this person who is completely in love with God, and sings constantly about how good he is to me (I have a lot of things to sing about).

But sometimes I'm not.

Sometimes, in fact, worship is a chore. An activity. Something to check off my christian itinerary. I want it to be like that Jars of Clay song where they just keep singing over and over again "I want to fall in love with you." Is it worth singing when it's not about falling in love? I really honestly don't know. Maybe I'm too simplistic, or idealistic. Maybe there are times when our worship is passionate devotion, and others when it is patient dedication. I hope someday to be married. I hope to be a good husband. I plan on leaving notes on the bathroom mirror for my wife to find. I plan on going for walks with her along the beach at sunset, just for the occasion of holding her hand. I'm going to sing to her (lack of skill notwithstanding). I also know that being a good husband involves doing the dishes, taking out the garbage, driving kids to soccer games and changing poopy diapers. Which proves my love more? That I feel like doing these things for you because I love you, or that I am going to do these things for you that I don't feel like doing because I love you? I guess you need both.

Here's the thing: I've seen a lot of things when it comes to worship. I've seen elderly men and women singing the same hymns that they have sung since childhood. I've seen crackheads on the street crying out to God (with no musical accompaniment) because they know without him they'll die. I've been to trendy churches where some abercrombie guy who thinks he's Bono leads "worship for a new generation" complete with a drum and bass solo. I've seen hardcore kids, pierced and tattooed, screaming at the top of their lungs, worshiping God on their knees above a sweaty, sometimes bloody pit filled with kids who have no concept of who Jesus is. I've seen the laborers of the LA Urban Project worship as naturally and beautifully as breathing after a successful harvest. I've seen kneeling, crying, spiritual laughter, and speaking in tongues. It's not always emotional, and it's rarely pretty, but doesn't it all have its place? Even when we don't "feel it?"

I really don't know what my point is anymore.

Here's the thing, God. I know I need you. I really don't know how much, but somehow amid that fog of apathy I've surrounded myself with, and the distractions that keep me up at night, I know you, and I need you. I want to be grateful for any opportunity to speak about you and your romance. And if my emotions don't come with it, I will sing all the louder, because I know who I am, and who you are, and I don't deserve you. I doesn't matter to me anymore how I come to you, just that I come. Can you take care of the rest?

We worship God through our understanding of our own inefficiencies. It truly is ignorance to refuse to admit that fact, and arrogance to think that worship should always be accompanied by some feeling, even more fleeting than the lillies of the field, beautiful as they are.