This past Sunday I had the interesting experience of attending two different worship services in the morning. One of them was in the church we had attended for over 20 years but no longer attend, and the other was in the church we have been attending since.
It was a dramatic shift in church for us, moving from a small church struggling with growth barriers to a large church struggling with space issues. We went from a church where 150 would be a full house to a church where 1,500 is the average attendance at a service. We moved from a church with limited leadership resources to one with an over-abundance of gifted people. We left a church where “involved” was our middle name to a church where we don’t need to be involved at all if we chose.
I attended the old church to support my daughter and our friend. They were still involved in the girl’s ministry there and their girls group, GEMS, was participating in the service. I had not been back since we left at the end of the year except to attend a mid-week funeral. I did not feel out of place; this is, after all, still my church. Many people came up and welcomed me, let me know they missed me, asked when we were coming back. There were lots of hugs and lots of handshakes. I felt that warm sense of family that we initially felt when we began to attend this church.
I sat with one of my friends during the service. It was a typical worship service, following the order of worship carefully. The Pastor gave a good sermon, not very emotional, but carefully following the text. The girls sang well but definitely were reflecting the quiet mood of the crowd. Afterwards I hugged my daughter and her friend, chatted with another old buddy then drove home to pick up my wife and son and head to the other church.
We got to the other church early enough to find seats on the main floor. No one hugged me, only the usher shook my hand. People were friendly but not beyond your normal friendliness. Then the worship began and led us in powerful ways into the presence of God. The music was solid and contemporary and meaningful, led by gifted musicians giving their best to God. The worship leader could feel the flow and let the music and spiritual mood continue a little longer. Prayer time there was emotional and moving. By the time we got to the message we felt like the doors of our hearts had heard Christ knocking and had been opened to him. We left the church with almost no one speaking to us personally.
I reflect on those two services and I ask myself; which was more meaningful worship? Both are valid forms and styles of worship, both have the potential to be meaningful, but which was more meaningful to me? That led me to another question; what am I truly looking for when I go to church? I loved being hugged and welcomed but the worship left me flat and uninspired. I loved being lifted up in powerful spiritual emotions but it would be nice for someone to recognize us; we have been going here consistently for 4 months.
Which brings me to this understanding; Rick Warren was right, it’s not about me. It’s about God. God was glorified that morning in the small, family church that morning. And God was glorified in the large church, too. Too often we define worship as good or bad based on whether we liked or disliked the service. We need to redefine our definition; what did God think of the worship service? Was it done to his glory? Did people bring the best of what they had to worship Him? Was there evidence of the Spirit in worship? Did it stir up a deep longing in your soul for the imminent return of Christ and fuel the desire to stand in worship for all eternity?
The question isn’t one of style, it’s one of substance.
Showing posts with label christian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christian. Show all posts
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
The Sorrow of Saturday
It is finished.
They had watched him breathe his last breath, had cried in agony as the blood and water flowed from his side. Their grief was so great they barely noticed the darkness at midday. The trembling of the earth was nothing compared to the trembling of their souls.
It is finished.
They took his dead-weight body down from the cross, laid it out, pressed for time. Joseph had a tomb they could use, borrow, really, but of course they didn’t know, had no idea it was a temporary arrangement. They did what they could, washing away the dirt and blood and spittle, salving the body with ointment. There was more to do, but sundown approached, the Sabbath was near. Tears mingled with the preparatory spices and oils.
It is finished.
They wrapped his body and laid him in the tomb. . And they did what we do when our loved ones die. They mourned. They stayed up through the night, in disbelief and denial. It cannot be. He was young and strong, and his teaching pure and powerful. Had he not as much said he was the One, the Messiah? What happened to the disciples, those men who had walked in his footsteps, who had followed in the dust of the rabbi?
It is finished.
Sabbath was filled with sorrow rather than joy. The traditions and meals and rules all seemed so empty and useless. Gathered around the table, they swapped stories. Remember when he blessed the little children? Remember when he healed the blind man? Remember how he set those self-righteous white-washed tombs called Pharisees straight? Remember when he raised you, Lazarus? Word came to them; the authorities had blocked the entrance to the tomb with a large stone to keep his followers from stealing his body. Stealing his body? The burden of grief was so great that every little action, rising to serve, answering the door, took conscious effort. Who had the strength?
It is finished.
They spent the afternoon getting ready for Sunday. They prepared the rest of the spices and ointment they would put on his body. They wondered out loud how they would ever move that stone. They held each other and cried, ugly grief, grief that distorts your face, which weakens your body. And then they tried to get to sleep; they had to be up early the next day. Jesus was waiting.
They had watched him breathe his last breath, had cried in agony as the blood and water flowed from his side. Their grief was so great they barely noticed the darkness at midday. The trembling of the earth was nothing compared to the trembling of their souls.
It is finished.
They took his dead-weight body down from the cross, laid it out, pressed for time. Joseph had a tomb they could use, borrow, really, but of course they didn’t know, had no idea it was a temporary arrangement. They did what they could, washing away the dirt and blood and spittle, salving the body with ointment. There was more to do, but sundown approached, the Sabbath was near. Tears mingled with the preparatory spices and oils.
It is finished.
They wrapped his body and laid him in the tomb. . And they did what we do when our loved ones die. They mourned. They stayed up through the night, in disbelief and denial. It cannot be. He was young and strong, and his teaching pure and powerful. Had he not as much said he was the One, the Messiah? What happened to the disciples, those men who had walked in his footsteps, who had followed in the dust of the rabbi?
It is finished.
Sabbath was filled with sorrow rather than joy. The traditions and meals and rules all seemed so empty and useless. Gathered around the table, they swapped stories. Remember when he blessed the little children? Remember when he healed the blind man? Remember how he set those self-righteous white-washed tombs called Pharisees straight? Remember when he raised you, Lazarus? Word came to them; the authorities had blocked the entrance to the tomb with a large stone to keep his followers from stealing his body. Stealing his body? The burden of grief was so great that every little action, rising to serve, answering the door, took conscious effort. Who had the strength?
It is finished.
They spent the afternoon getting ready for Sunday. They prepared the rest of the spices and ointment they would put on his body. They wondered out loud how they would ever move that stone. They held each other and cried, ugly grief, grief that distorts your face, which weakens your body. And then they tried to get to sleep; they had to be up early the next day. Jesus was waiting.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Cross-generational ministry and loving it.
Met with our small group, Genia, tonight. We used a Nooma study from Rob Bell and spent some time talking about the need to get unstuck and become the people God has called us to be, to experience all of the blessings he has to offer.
This group is truly unique. We intentionally brought together a group of people from different age ranges and in different stages in their life. Some are young children and pre-teens, some teens, the majority young adults, then some of us older folk.
It's challenging to meet the demands of all of these different people. Yet they are committed to each other. Friendships are growing within the group, friendships that weren't there before. We lean on each other when we are in trouble and laugh with each other in good times.
It's extremly difficult to find study material for this type of group. We use a lot of videos, interspersed with some "typical" studies, to try to reach everyone at some point. Visual is definitely the best learning medium; it transcends the age gaps and causes everyone to focus together. With all of the kids focus can be an issue.
I truly love these people. It's my hope and prayer that they will all continue to grow in love for God and for each other, that they will learn to unselfishly serve others, and that they never forget that life should be fun.
It's up to God. They're Yours.
This group is truly unique. We intentionally brought together a group of people from different age ranges and in different stages in their life. Some are young children and pre-teens, some teens, the majority young adults, then some of us older folk.
It's challenging to meet the demands of all of these different people. Yet they are committed to each other. Friendships are growing within the group, friendships that weren't there before. We lean on each other when we are in trouble and laugh with each other in good times.
It's extremly difficult to find study material for this type of group. We use a lot of videos, interspersed with some "typical" studies, to try to reach everyone at some point. Visual is definitely the best learning medium; it transcends the age gaps and causes everyone to focus together. With all of the kids focus can be an issue.
I truly love these people. It's my hope and prayer that they will all continue to grow in love for God and for each other, that they will learn to unselfishly serve others, and that they never forget that life should be fun.
It's up to God. They're Yours.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Cubs Fans and Hope
I've been a Cubs fan my entire life. Is there anyone who understands the concept of hope better than a Cubs fan? If they fail to make the Big Show again this year it will be 100 years, a full century, of futility.
Steve Garvey did it to us in 1984. Milking out one more year in baseball to pay his huge alimony he jumped ship and went to the Padres. Still had a bat, too, good enough to beat us and send us home so his team could get swept by those Tigers.
Everybody forgets 1989, when we came oh so close only to fail again.
Nobody forgets 2003, especially Steve Bartman. What, Moises Alou never learned to go into the stands to go after a ball, even at that level of the playoffs? And Alex S. Gonzalez boots a grounder? Don't blame Steve, and surely don't hate him for doing what we would all have done.
No, nobody knows hope like the Cubs fan. Spring training, pitchers and catchers reported already. And once again Cubs fans are talking about this year, our chances, will our pitching hold up, can we score runs in the late innings. Hope springs eternal in a Cubs fans breast.
And in October we will be home, just like all of our Cubs players, watching someone else get demolished by what could be the greatest Detroit Tiger team ever. (They may sweep the World Series in 3 games because the other team will just give up and forfeit). And once again our hope goes unfulfilled
And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:3-5; American Standard)
That's us, Cubs fans. exulting in our trials, persevering, real characters, filled with hope that does not disappoint.
Think Jesus is a Cubs fan?
Steve Garvey did it to us in 1984. Milking out one more year in baseball to pay his huge alimony he jumped ship and went to the Padres. Still had a bat, too, good enough to beat us and send us home so his team could get swept by those Tigers.
Everybody forgets 1989, when we came oh so close only to fail again.
Nobody forgets 2003, especially Steve Bartman. What, Moises Alou never learned to go into the stands to go after a ball, even at that level of the playoffs? And Alex S. Gonzalez boots a grounder? Don't blame Steve, and surely don't hate him for doing what we would all have done.
No, nobody knows hope like the Cubs fan. Spring training, pitchers and catchers reported already. And once again Cubs fans are talking about this year, our chances, will our pitching hold up, can we score runs in the late innings. Hope springs eternal in a Cubs fans breast.
And in October we will be home, just like all of our Cubs players, watching someone else get demolished by what could be the greatest Detroit Tiger team ever. (They may sweep the World Series in 3 games because the other team will just give up and forfeit). And once again our hope goes unfulfilled
And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:3-5; American Standard)
That's us, Cubs fans. exulting in our trials, persevering, real characters, filled with hope that does not disappoint.
Think Jesus is a Cubs fan?
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