Notice that it doesn't say where. Or how. Doesn't even indicate when.
Just an uncomplicated call to worship.
I sometimes think we put too much emphasis on the where or when, and spend no time on the how. Think of the places Jesus and his disciples worshipped.
Roadsides. Camps. Wilderness. On a mountainside. No one cared what people wore when they came to worship. Jesus didn't say it had to be a certain day of the week when you prayed. All he asked is that you did - pray.
Worship.
Come! Just as you are before your God.
So many people stress the need to go to church in their "Sunday best". I was certainly raised in that mindset. And I understand why - if you are going to worship in a holy place you should take great care with how you look. You will be in the presence of God and he deserves that kind of attention to detail.
Or does he?
To be sure it is respectful to be properly dressed when going to any kind of church. But I believe that God is more interested in us, than in our fashions.
God - wants our hearts. He wants all of us - body, mind, soul. The wrappings don't really matter. It's that we give ourselves to him. However we can.
Garb yourself a beverage. Settle down in your most comfy chair. I have a story to tell.
Twelve years ago I found myself in a dark place. My family was in shambles - arguments, petty bickering, and long-standing abuses had coalesced into a sort of dystopian existence for me. I was, for the first time in my 40+ years on this planet, divided from my family, irrevocably. I was rapidly sinking in a wide sea of pain and loss. Sinking, even, too deep for salvation.
Salvation. We'll get to that in a bit.
Conversations began about a possible return to church. We hadn't been in over 20 years (see dystopian reality above). We, well I really, felt a strong pull to join something bigger than me. Something that might give me purpose.
Oh hell - let's be honest. I was looking for a life raft.
Easter Morning, 2010 - hubby & I are outside, ready to go to his family's for Easter dinner. As if from heaven itself we heard the bells of a nearby church. Now, we'd lived in our home for over 20 years at that point and never, in all that time, had we heard these bells. Not once.
We took it as a sign (which of course, it was; I've likened it to a 2X4 upside the head, from God). The next weekend we quietly began a return to church. Our small town is blessed with churches of nearly all Christian practices so...we began a round-robin of attendance. Figuring one of them would, eventually, resonate with us. We had no timetable. As I've said many times, God's Time is not something we can calculate or understand. We figured when it was "time", God would let us know.
Funny how that works.
We started with the Catholic Church. We tried all the others, in turn. Returned to a few of them here and there, but we just kept being called to the Catholic Church.
Sure - the people were kind and welcoming. The priest was charismatic, funny, and a man of profound faith. The Church is 1.5 miles from our home. It's a small, country church nestled in our beautiful, rural, picturesque village.
And yet - I found something there I didn't know I needed. I didn't know I could belong to. I found something my battered spirit, shattered heart, and scarred soul yearned for without my knowing it.
Home.
In the 12 years since being called back to church, and finding a home in the Catholic Faith - I have fallen deeply in love with God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit. And quite surprisingly for someone raised in a Christian, evangelical, fundamental faith - I found rituals.
My former faith "threw shade" (that's being kind) at the Catholic Church. Phrases like "the vain repetitions of the heathen" were spoken frequently and with deep loathing for the imagined subject. Yet, 12 years ago I also fell in love with the ritual identity of being Catholic.
It's hard to describe the feeling. Going from an austere aesthetic that derided even a whiff of "ritual" to the very foundation of rituals in Christian life - was a harsh pivot to make.
Yet I made it with gratitude and thanksgiving. I won't say it was easy, exactly. Rather it felt natural, like this is what I should have been doing all my life.
Home. My home. Where I belong. And even now, 12 years later, every time I hear my voice united in prayer with my friends - I say a side prayer thanking God for saving me. For calling me out of the darkness. For bringing me in from the wilderness of my wanderings.
Salvation. In the purest sense of the word, God saved me. From my family, my pain, my loss, myself. He brought me HOME, to the rituals of being Catholic. To his love, that reckless love that could only come from him.
I couldn't earn it, and I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Overwhelming love of God.
That the King of the Universe would love - me. A sinner. An imperfect being prone to selfishness and judgement would be loved by God. Could be loved by God.
Not in the simple, human understanding of the word. Can we humans love with wild abandon? We believe we do - in our limited view of things. But can we put aside our own wants, needs, and ego to fully give ourselves to another being?
As much as I'd like to say yes - I know that's just not possible.
Yet the most supreme being in all the universe - not only loves us, but does so without ceasing and recklessly.
Now ... the normal definition of "reckless" is to act without caution, without regard to the consequences of those actions.
But does "normal" ever apply to the King of the Universe?
No.
God's reckless love for us is beyond our comprehension. Beyond our ability to understand time, relationships, and even - love.
To love us recklessly is for God to give us his love without regard for our human-ness. Regardless of our egos, behaviors, and the fact that we are but lowly sinners - God's ceaseless love is the one thing we can count on every single day.
For whether we ascend to heaven (or the highest heights of humanity) or dwell in the depths (our lowest points) - He is there. (Psalm 139:8).
No matter what we do - or don't do - God is with us. Walking before us (or beside us), supporting us, guiding us, guarding us, protecting us. Whether we want him to or not; whether we embrace or reject him.
I'm still in Godspell-mode. The simplicity of this classic musical belies the intensity of the underlying emotions. The beliefs so cleanly stated.
She begins with..."Master".
Then tells him her most heartfelt prayer. What she wants more than anything. The deepest desire of her soul.
She tells her Master how she wants to live her life.
See him. Love him. Follow him.
And not just that - but more every single day. Day by day - to have more of the same.
Clarity. Love. Obedience.
How simple.
Oh - I'm sure it wasn't simple for the Apostles. Leaving families, friends, a roof over their heads...to follow a possible crackpot. A man who promised them a world they wouldn't live to see.
Jesus promised them - eternal life. Follow him. Love him. See him. And have life everlasting ... by his side.
And here we are - 2000 years later - and in faith, still longing to See Him, Love Him, Follow Him. A perfect prescription for faith, for that deep longing within each of us.
Like the Apostle in Godspell - from the deepest part of my existence - Master, I want to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, and follow thee more nearly.
Seven words. As sung in the ever-brilliant "Godspell" - John the Baptist is calling to the eventual followers of Christ that it's time to prepare for His arrival.
And to prepare for John to baptize Jesus.
A man who lived in the desert, ate honey and locust, and was a pre-Christ figure to many who were starting to look for another way, a different way, to follow God. A prophet who had his own following yet knew someone else was coming far greater than him.
As this weekend is the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, what better way to honor our Savior than to ... prepare for him.
How do we do that? How did THEY do that?
Prepare for the arrival of a man who would change the world in just three short years of ministry. For a man who preached that he would allow himself to be killed in order to save humanity.
Just how does humanity prepare a way for THAT?!
We - pray.
For God to open the eyes of our hearts.* To enter into our hearts and make a home there.
I want God to live in my heart all the time. To dwell there, finding a place of comfort and luxury. I want God to feel welcome in my heart - to put his feet up in front of a warm fire, cozy with a hot cup of coffee, in his pajamas, cradling a favorite book. I want him to enter my emotional center as a BFF - comfortable, ready to say what needs to be said.
I want to accept those words from my Lord, to hear them truly and clearly - to make plenty of room for him so that I can hunker down with him; knowing he is always there to help me ride out the storms of life or balance on the crest of peace & happiness.
I'm preparing the way for the Lord - in my heart, soul, and mind. Are you?
*St. Paul's Letter to the Ephesians, 1:18 - I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in his holy people...
This is my latest song obsession. First it must be said that I adore the work of Michael W. Smith. He always performs with a clarity & reverence that fills me. And when he's working with the poetry of "Ancient Words" by Lynn DeShazo, it's hard not to create a living, breathing testimony to the power of God's words.
Holy words long preserved
for our walk in this world,
They resound with God's own heart
Oh, let the Ancient words impart
Words of Life, words of Hope
Give us strength, help us cope
In this world, where e'er we roam
Ancient words will guide us home
Indeed - words given to men from the heart of God himself.
My darling husband is a wonderful musician who lends his God-given talents to the Praise Band at our church. They performed this song a couple of months ago, so it was on heavy play in our home as he rehearsed his part.
I find myself singing the song in my head sometimes - like the beautiful prayer it is.
