I have always loved children and the joy that they bring to the world, but most of all I love the things they remind us of. I babysat a set of twins named Logan and Madeline for many years, and had the privilege of watching them grow for a time. Logan and Madeline got along…most of the time, but like any brother and sister, had their fair share of disagreements as well. One night, they decided they wanted to have a sleepover in Madeline’s room, so I tucked the two of them cozily into bed. They continued chattering for a quite a while afterward, as usual, so I headed back upstairs to tell them it was time to wind down and silence the night. By the time I made it up the stairs, Logan and Madeline were in the midst of a heated disagreement and Logan decided the sleepover was over before the sleep part, and he was going to go back to his room. Madeline was very upset that Logan didn’t want to have a sleepover anymore, but I eventually calmed her down and tucked them back in, in their separate beds this time. As soon as I gently closed the door to Madeline’s room, she screamed across their jack-and-jill bedrooms and said, “Logan, you’re stupid!” I froze, and may have rolled my eyes while letting out a sigh, as I turned to reopen the door when I decided to wait a moment and listen to Logan’s response.
His voice was steady and confident, “No I’m not, Madeline.”
She yelled back again, “Yes you are! You. Were. Born. To. Be. Stupid.”
Logan responded calmly, yet firmly, “No, Madeline. I was born to worship.”
Silence.
I proudly grinned and walked back downstairs.
How often I forget.
As I prayed about a theme verse for this upcoming journey, I found myself at the feet of Jesus, in awe of his words and the image that followed.
“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.”
-Isaiah 55:12
When we cease to worship it is the very nature of creation to violently break out in song that whispers gentle but fierce reminders of our purpose.
When we hinder ourselves from expression of thanksgiving from our lips, still the earth erupts with joy.
Jesus himself said, “if [we] keep quiet, the stones will cry out” (Luke 19:40).
Everything undeniably spills over with worship.
Yet, how often I forget.
I have heard mountains sing praises to the Lord Most High as their peaks reach higher to the heavens. And I have watched tree roots extend deeper into the ground only to burst forth upward as their branches sway to the rhythm that the mountains make. The very earth cries out with a worshipful heart to its Creator. Altars literally surround us in all-encompassing worship.
Barbara Brown Taylor speaks of these altars as places that we most evidently meet our Lord Jesus.
“God shows up in whirlwinds, starry skies, burning bushes, and perfect strangers. When people want to know more about God, the son of God tells them to pay attention to the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, to women kneading bread and workers lining up for their pay… Earth is so thick with divine possibility that it is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars.”
So may we not be hindered by our humanness any longer, but burst forth to join the practice of singing praises to the Breath-Giver, and lifting hands to the Star-Breather. May we drink in the air as if it were being given from the communion cup, and may our very bones be cracked as we fall down before the altars of this world. When we fall at these altars, this is where we are actually lifted up, and we remember that we were made to worship; this is where we join the spirit of creation, and the voice of our Creator.
