Dirty Dangerous Worship

Oct 19, 2010

Recently, I've been confronted with the question of worship and what it's "supposed" to look like. Having been raised in the Methodist church, saved in the Baptist, sanctified and spirit filled in the COG, and delivered from religious bondage by the Vineyard, I've encountered a LOT of different worship styles. While I don't think any one particular denomination or group has cornered the market on what worship is supposed to look like, I've come to understand clearly what it is NOT.

The very definition of the word worship is a surprise to most - WORSHIP is a verb. It's something you DO, but it's also something you feel. It's also a noun, because true worship is something you ARE. . .not merely a description of an action.

Worshippers are people who "display reverance or adoration, as to a diety." Ummm. . .ok. Translation - worshippers are believers who offer a sacrifice of their being through the act of reverance AND adoration, not simply one or the other. Worship can only take place in ONE form however - in truth. Jesus spoke clearly about this, saying that only those who worship in truth will know Him.


There comes a question about styles of worship, and while I do think that largely worship is up to the individual, there is one aspect in which I think there can be no compromise. We must worship the one worthy of our praise in the same manner, mindset, heart offering in which He gave Himself to us - passionately,  unabashedly, unrelenting, and without reserve.  John 4:24 says this, " But the hour is coming, and now is, when the true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth; for the Father is seeking such to worship Him.  God is Spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and truth." Not should, or ought to, and not as we feel like it, but MUST worship in spirit and in truth. Whoa.



The other night, I had the opportunity to experience worship while others seemed a bit put off by the music choice. Frankly, I didn't let it bother me much once the Lord began to speak to me. The music was edgy, raw, and rather dirty in a sense. There was no lovely melody, no sweet harmonies. It was banging, thumping, the rythyms undulating through my spirit and awakening something altogether primal within me. The thump of the drums, the panicked strumming on the strings, and the cracking realness of the vocalists took me a place far beyond the confines of our gathering room. It was in that place that He spoke to me and said, "Wanna come get dirty with Me?" Hahahaaa - we all have stories of our Jesus moments. Most of them are purely g-rated - butterflies and pink skies, meadows and mountaintops. How often does He ask us to go get dirty with Him?



So I went - He took me back to a time in Columbia when I was at MOW at the old church. Peter Steyne and Toby Trull were banging out the walls on the drums, Joe Cash was smoking his guitar, and there were more shofars than I could possibly count. There was a frantic energy as the worshipers of God began to touch heaven with their praise. . .and then it happened. It was gradual - a few of us began to feel really warm, and then noticed others sweating heavily. Within half an hour, the temperture was over 100 degrees with over a hundred bodies packed into a small space. The A/C had gone out during the hottest summer on record. But. . .NOBODY LEFT. Not a single soul left the oven like room we were all in. Rather, the pressing in took on a new life altogether, and our praise became a sacrifice like it had never been before. People were sweating, dripping; the dirt from the carpet and the stickiness from children's hands made us dirtier still. Makeup melted off, hair fell, and body odor ran rampant. . .but so did the Holy Spirit.



I joke that that was the night Danny Steyne baptised me, b/c quite literally he drenched me when he leaned over me and spoke the words of the Father's heart to me. The anointing oil of that night was the very ESSENCE of the lovers of Christ, coming out of and off our bodies.


Worship. . .like many other experiences in life. . .isn't meant to take on one persona and remain that way. There are times for "quietly sitting with hands folded" types of worship, and there is a time for "dirty, dangerous worship." I prefer the latter, but that's just me.


What I do know is that regardless of the worship style you like, what can never be compromised for our comfort is this - we must passionately pursue the heart of the One who passionately died for us. If I offer my praise b/c it's simply my responsibility, I fail to give a sacrifice. A sacrifice is something that costs me something; my pride, my dignity, my time, etc. If it costs me nothing, then it is not a sacrifice. . .and it does not reflect  HIM at all.


I only want to be like Him - even if it means I have to get dirty in the dangerous places.

An Encounter with. . .

July 26, 2010

Last night, I went with some friends to a church thing. I typically don't stray far from my own stomping grounds, but this seemed (at least by the advertising) like something I'd be "into." And for the most part. . .it was.

The worship. . .ohhh the worship. Amazing. Passionate. Freeing. Wow. It was beyond wonderful. I felt parts of my spirit opening up that had been shut up for a while. While not a MOW event, it definately had a "mountain" feel to it. I kept watching. . .waiting to see who was going to break free from walls of the dam, who would be the explosion that would bring all the spirits of religion and limitations crashing down.

I wept as the woman next to me broke out of the aisle, joined by teenage boys, dancing in worship.

I watched another woman abandon herself to the music, to the worship, to her Savior. She was still in the room, but she was definitely SOMEWHERE else too.

One of my friends wasn't feeling too well. We'd all been at a picnic earlier that day, and he thought he might have a touch of food posioning. I prayed for him, laying my hands upon him, expecting healing ESPECIALLY in this place of freedom.

At the end of the service, many people were being prayed for. I moved through the crowd up front, enjoying the presence of God, wanting more still. Without going into details, I"ll say this. I was approached by a woman who directed me to the other side, and was mildly chastised for having prayed for my friend earlier, because "We don't do that here." What they don't do is allow people of one gender to pray for someone of the opposite gender.

Now, that said, let me say this. I can completely understand not being ok with a man and a woman heading off behind closed doors for some "prayer ministery." But in a room, with 400 other people, what EXACTLY do you think is going to happen that's inappropriate if a man lays his hands on a womans head and prays for her?

My God - when did we decide that these rules are somehow more appropriate than the ministry of Jesus Christ to the hurting? To those who need healing? To the ones for whom a simple touch will break down years of distrust? When did the "Jezabel" spirit run off the Holy Spirit?

And so. . .still. . .I hunger. For true freedom in Christ. For worship that has no barriers. For relationship that GENUINELY reflects Jesus. I wonder what they would have done had I wept on this man's feet, and then dried them with my hair? Would that have somehow been MORE appropriate than laying on hands and praying for him?

When. . .when. . .WHEN are we as the body going to begin to work together as a body? When do we begin to operate in the integrity of Jesus Christ and demonstrate that so that these ridiculous rules are no longer necessary? When do we answer the call. . .HIS call. . .regardless of how well it meshes with our "rules."

Freedom by its very nature is meant to be FREEING. I don't want freedom that keeps me shackled by the limitations of who I can or can't minister to. As a medic, I would help ANYONE, any time. Regardless of gender, color, sexual orientation, etc. Why is it more acceptable for me as a medic to put my hands on someone in THAT circumstance, but in the church - where lives can be saved and changed - I'm not allowed to touch a man?

Ah God. . .I'm hungry. Not for a "trailer" of Your outpouring, but for the "feature event."

The Happy Human Dance

August 12, 2010

Let me introduce you to someone I hardly know. He's a quasi-famous internet guy...well, if YouTube counts anyway. Matt Harding is in many ways a "loser." A college dropout, no "real" job to speak of, lives with his girlfriend out west somewhere.

A few years ago, Matt made a video. The story goes something like this - he was traveling around the world with friends, and one of his friends suggested he do that dumb dance he does, and he'd record it. The idea took hold, and Matt was recorded doing his dance in over 70 countries. The result is a video that has swept the internet, and was noticed by Stride gum. (They later hired Matt to make a more professional video for them.) It was also noticed by average people - moms and dads, husbands and wives, everyday people who watched this guy - this BUM - doing this ridiculous dance all around the world.

And a weird thing started to happen. People began to smile. And go blind. Skin color got lost behind the laughter and stunning scenery from some of the most beautiful places in the world. We lost some of our self righteous pride, arrogance gave way to amusement. This man - this nobody - gave us permission to let down our walls, to see each other as HUMAN BEINGS.

I don't know the first thing about Matt Harding personally. I couldn't tell you if he's a believer in Jesus or Buddah or Mickey Mouse. And frankly. . .I don't care. What I do care about is the fact that he was able to depict nations and peoples and races as ONE RACE - the Human race. All in the course of FOUR MINUTES. Unbelievable. . .

A man I deeply respect once told me that he was not a Christian. It dang near broke my heart. Not because it was true, but because he had seen such a BROKEN side of the church that he couldn't find himself in any of it's teachings. He loved Jesus, served his brothers and sisters, and lived his life according to biblical principals. Yet he considered himself a humanitarian more than a Christian. When did we divide the two? At point did Jesus Christ cease to be a humanitarian? Because if I'm reading the story correctly, He was the ULTIMATE humanitarian - giving His life for another, for the hope of a future, for the promsie of life eternal. When did the blood spilled at Calvary become salvation ONLY for those deserving of it? When did God give us the right to decide who is deserving of our humanitarian efforts and who is not? When did the rules change?

My eyes welled up with tears as I watched Matt dance with pot-bellied children in Mali; when he gracefully executed dance moves with the beautiful daughters of India; when he celebrated in Chicago, IL and when he stood alone in the majesty of the green hills of Ireland. Embraced in a crowd and standing alone - this man brought a world together through the simplicity of a stupid dance. We are all human beings - created by a loving God.

All of us; black, white, Indian, African, British, Irish, Scottish, straight, gay, Buddist, Muslim, Catholic, and so on and so on. Each of us created in HIS image. He made us all so differently, but rather than embracing our uniqueness we have allowed ourselves to create elitism out of our differences. Rather than reconciliation, we war. Rather than the human race. . .we have separated and segragated ourselves into clubs and schools and countries and even churches, where we believe WE are right and everyone else is wrong.

I was so fortunate to be raised by grandparents who embraced the simplest principles of God - love your neighbor as yourself.

I bet my grandfather would have been right alongside Matt - doing his own happy dance.

Relentless

Augusta 16, 2010

 I think we're all familiar with the song,You wont Relent. Personally, I can't hear it without it messing me up good. Last Friday night, it was part of our worship set, and God has a special message for me about my heart belonging to Him, and His seal being upon my heart. I love it when God speaks!

But it brought me to a place of considering what it means to be relentless. Why does God pursue us relentlessly? Especially when we are less than relentless in our pursuit of Him?

It led me to another thought, one I had recently in response to a friends feverent desire to have God take away  the desires of her heart. What I shared with her was that God won't take away desires that are "God breathed." There are wants, needs, desires in our lives that are wired into the very "nooma" of our being. The desire to be connected at the heart level with another human being. The desire to live abundantly. The desire to love as He loves. These are all God inspired - not something we can request He remove. To do so would removed the essence of Him in our lives - to remove these things would be to deny HIM within us, to deny His perfect love in having created those things to begin with.

You see, some of these desires are the very things that make us "in His image." It's not just about the two arms, two legs, etc. "In His image" is more about being LIKE Him than looking like Him. He desires the heart connection; He desires abundant life; He yearns to see us love another as He has loved us.

And so. . .He pursues us.

R E L E N T L E S S L Y

And relentlessly, we navigate, negotiate, plead, beg, cajole, bargin and petition. His heart hears every cry of our own. . .and relentlessly in LOVE He anchors HIS desires for us even more deeply within our hearts. Relentlessly. . .He says, "No. This MUST stay."
Relentlessly. . .He loves us.

I have been so beautifully, relentlessly pursued by a God I do not deserve. And yet He makes me worthy of love.

Adding -

In an effort to consolidate some of my "notes" from Facebook, I'm going to be adding several posts here tonight. No, I didn't write all these tonight. When I can, I'll try to include the date that they were written. A friend brought it to my attention that there are folks who aren't FB junkies who might be interested in what I've written. LOL It doesn't always travel along the Village Life thread, but it's about MY life, and often the lives of those I'm doing life with, so that qualifies it for me. If you don't like it, get over it. :-)

The Value of Worth

Sunday, my son and I joined two other Villagers for a trek to Indiana to visit a sister church there. On the drive back, we stopped to get drinks, and my son and I each got a sandwich to eat on the drive home. It was well after noon, and breakfast had been much earlier that morning. When we got back in the car, the comment was made to me, rather scornfully in my opinion, "Hungry much?" In a word, yes. Duh. Obviously. But I said nothing, trying to let the comment roll off my back as I've been counseled to.

The question that this raises to me is would such a comment have been made to someone who was just riding with us? Or is there a place of comfort that allows us to say WHATEVER we like to one another at WHATEVER cost simply b/c we are "family"? I do not think the same comment would have been made to someone who does not share life, day in and day out. Which raises yet another question - is it somehow ok for us to be more harsh with one another than with others we interact with outside the home? At one point does couth and compassion make way for scornful opinion?

I'm all for speaking the truth - IN LOVE. Without love, spoken truth is meaninless. I'm sure there are those who would disagree with me on this, but lets face it - trying to convince a starving street person that Jesus alone is all he needs when his belly is empty falls painfully short of the message of compassion and love that Christ came and lived and died for. Without love, truth lacks value. Without love, truth is subjective. Without love, truth is simply another form of JUDGEMENT.

I've been discovering the very value of value in our lives over this past year. However, the worth of a person is at best compromised (and at worst, devalued) when perceived truth is spoken without the filter of love, without the compassion of Christ, and without much regard or thought as to how such words could be taken. Believing that I am "worthy to be loved" is brought into the blaring light of question when something as simple as my nutritional choices are brought into question in the way that it was.

In contemplation I've come to this conclusion - never assume malice for what ignorance can explain. Some people simply don't know any better, or simply don't think before they make statements like this. In examining the situation more, I am aware of the issues of the person who questioned me - they have a fixation on food that most people don't have, and it would seem perfectly reasonable to them to make such a statement to anyone. In sharing life with this person, I've seen this played out in many different ways, and they've been called to the carpet on it before. And so, it is with that experiential knowledge that I realize my worth remains intact, my value stable, in spite of the perception of others.

I am the Hammer!

Some time back I saw this cute little cartoon, Get Fuzzy. Old Satchel dog was trying to love on the dysfunctional, disturbed Bucky cat, and said, “Let’s play like we’re utensils in the kitchen drawer.” Bucky thinks for a moment, picturing knives and corkscrews and the like, and then says, “Ok Dog, you’re on. You go first.” Satchel leans over, gives Bucky this huge hug and says, “I’m a spoon!” Bucky has this look of sheer terror on his face as he shrieks, “I’m a hammer! I’m a hammer!”

I know the terror from which Bucky Kat speaks. I too would rather be a hammer - feared by all the other utensils in the drawer, revered by the smaller tools. Capable of both destruction and the repair of destruction. I have swung a hammer that has created holes and brought down walls. Similarly, I have also swung the hammer that put up new walls. Of all the tools in my caches, the hammer is the most ambivalent. It does not have ONE purpose; it is not simply a tool of destruction OR a tool of repair.

Today, a friend said to me, “I am hugging you inside” and if it is possible for the spirit man to backfire, mine did. The carefully constructed walls that said, “Stay here, outside this line and come no closer” were both respected and totally ignored as she made that statement to me. Hugging me - not breaking the physical rule, but is the physical rule the most important one? Do not hug me translates to do not care for me. Allow me to be aloof, to use humor to hide what really pains me. Do not hug me means do not see past my walls into the core of who I am really am, a childlike creature dying to become alive through a simple hug. I wanted to scream, “Don’t say that! Don’t do that!” and I didn’t know why. I wanted to run - wanted to crawl under the chair I sat in and disappear. Who am I that someone deems me huggable? That they are willing to respect the boundary I’ve set, and yet still communicate the depth of concern to me? Who am I? I want to be a hammer again.