Sitting on a hard tile floor.
Cramped in a room with my whole squad (33 people, btw) instead of a roof because it started to rain.
In a public park.
Laying on the floor, avoiding the rainy spots.
Sitting on a bed usually shared by 3+ people in there tiny but loving home.
Sitting on a bed shared by 3 of my teammates.
In crowded congregation, with hands raised high.
In Malay.
In Telugu.
In Albanian.
In Serbian.
In Spanish.
In English.
Worship isn’t something new. Miriam did it Exodus, David did in the Psalms, and I’ve been doing it my whole life. Literally. Some of my earliest memories are of my parents participating in this multi-church, interdenominational group called Celebration of Life Choir. My brother was two or three months old when he played baby Jesus for their christmas show. I was in kids choir, and chimes, and bells, and adult choir. All of it.
And here’s the thing, it’s always been really good quality worship. I’m not trying to brag here but God has surrounded me with talented musicians to look up to my whole life. And because that I didn’t see the problem with how I worshipped until I came on the race.
Just like for a very long time my faith was depended on my friend group, my ability to stop, prepare my heart, and adore what the Father has done for me depended on the quality of the music. In simpler terms, good music meant Jesus was there and he loved me. Bad music or no music meant he was out to lunch.
And then I came on the race and it screwed up my whole “I know how and what worship is” mentality. We got to South America, and shockingly enough, the worship was in Spanish. And I didn’t feel it. I would clap along and go through the motions but my heart just wasn’t there.
This theme continued country after country, place after place. If the music wasn’t in English and/or it wasn’t “good enough” for me, my heart just wasn’t there. And before you think it, let me just say that this in itself is incredibly judgmental and not a taught behavior. I know this. This major judgment flaw was what helped me figure out there was a problem. I just couldn’t figure out how to fix it.
I’d love to tell you that this is part where community is awesome and my brilliant worship leader friends turned my heart upside down… and grew it three sizes that day but that’s just not the truth. In fact, this is something I’ve mentioned maybe once or twice to a couple of people. But it’s been a consistent struggle for me and that’s why I’m writing this blog about it.
I’m writing to let you know that it took a small group run by kids and preteens in a Cambodian orphanage to help me figure out what true worship means.
This month my team partnered with an orphanage in Phnom Penh, Cambodia to help pack and move to a new property, but because nothing is ever simple when it comes to the government, our ministry shifted half way through and we got to hang out with some of the coolest kids I’ve ever met.
Never in my life had I met a person, let alone a child, who just wanted to be with Jesus more than those kids. Never in my life have I seen anyone stop and worship like those children do, beg for more “Jesus songs” than they do, who want to love the Lord with their entire being like they do.
We sat on the floor. This amazingly talented 13 year old played a beat up guitar and it was the most joyful music I’ve ever heard. Sandwiched between the special needs kids and their caregivers, a little girl closes her eyes and sings with the purest heart. It was in that moment, the third time we had small group this month, that I finally understood.
Its not what you hear.
Its not about how well you sing or what you sing or even what language you sing in.
Its not about the lights, the projector screen, the sound system.
Its not about whether you’re in the front pew or standing on a dirt floor in the foothills of the himalayas.
Its not about if you showed up 15 minutes early or half way worship.
In fact, it’s not about you at all.
I finally understand that if I go into worship wandering what I will get out of it then I’ve completely missed the point of worship altogether. Its about communicating with the Father all the wonderful things he’s done for you. Its about remembering what you have and who will always have your back.
Its like this. For hundreds of years, men and women have felt an outpouring of love for another person and wrote a song about it. From Henry the eighth writing for the court to Whitney Houston singing her heart out to Kevin Costner in the ’92 classic, The Bodyguard, people have put their mind, body, and soul, into trying to explain love through music without expecting (but maybe hoping) that the other person will get it. That’s what worship should be to the Father. It should be an outward expression of an inward devotion, just like every other part of our lives.
So in true where do I go from here fashion (side note, if you haven’t seen Pocahontas 2, go netflix’s it. The storyline isn’t great but the music is fantastic), here’s my what’s next. I stop walking into a church or community wondering what I can get out of it. I pause more often and check to see if my actions are matching what my heart should be doing. I let people hold me accountable and take those moments when I get called out with grace. I understand that Rome was not built in a day and try to cut myself some slack when I mess up. Here’s what I do, I make my whole life be an act of honoring and be thankful for what God has done for me, an act of worship.
