I-Problem
It’s who you are and the way you live that
count before God. Your worship must engage your spirit in the pursuit of truth.
That’s the kind of people the Father is out looking for: those who are simply
and honestly themselves before
him in their worship. God is sheer being itself — Spirit. Those who worship him
must do it out of their very being, their spirits, their true selves, in
adoration. (John 4:23-24)
I think a lot of
us suffer from poor I-sight. Not the kind of “eyesight” where glasses can
correct the distortion. No, I’m talking about “I-sight.” A condition that
doesn’t blur our view of the world, but of ourselves. For instance, some see
self too highly. Maybe it's the PhD, or pedigree. A tattoo can do it; so can a
new truck, or the Nobel Peace Prize. Whatever the cause, the result is always the
same: "I have so many gifts. I can do anything." Brazenly
self-assured and utterly self-sufficient, the I-focused strut beyond the city
limits of self-confidence and enter into the state of cockiness. You wonder who
puts the "air" in arrogance and the "vain" in vainglory?
Those who say, "I can do anything." You've probably said those words.
For a short time, at least. A lifetime, perhaps. We all plead guilty to some
level of superiority.
But don’t we
also know the other extreme: "I can't do anything"? Forget the thin
air of pomposity; these folks breathe the thick, swampy air of self-defeat.
Roaches have higher self-esteem. Earthworms stand taller. "I'm a bum. I am
scum. The world would be better off without me." Divorce stirs that kind
of crud. So do diseases and job dismissals. Where the first group is arrogant,
this group is diffident. Blame them for every mishap; they won't object.
They'll simply agree.
Two extremes of
poor I-sight. Self-loving and self-loathing. We swing from one side to the
other. Promotions and demotions bump us back and forth. One day too high on
self, the next too hard on self. Neither is correct. Self-elevation and
self-deprecation are equally inaccurate. So where’s the truth? It’s dead center
between the "I can do anything," and the "I can't do
anything" lies. The truth is that "I can do all things through Christ
who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:13) Neither omnipotent nor impotent, neither
God's MVP nor God's mistake. Not self-secure or insecure, but God-secure – a
self-worth based upon our identity as children of God. The proper view of self
is in the middle. But how do we get there? How do we park the pendulum in the
center? Through counseling? Therapy? Self-help? Long walks? All advisable
activities, but they don't compare with God's cure for poor I-sight. His cure
is Worship.
Surprised? The
word conjures up many thoughts, not all of which are positive. Outdated songs. Cliché-cluttered
prayers. Irrelevant sermons. Meager offerings. Odd rituals. Why worship? What
does worship have to do with curing I-sight? Well, honest worship lifts eyes
off of self and sets them on God. Scripture's best-known worship leader wrote:
"Give honor to the LORD, you angels; give honor to the LORD for his glory
and strength. Give honor to the LORD for the glory of his name. Worship the
LORD in the splendor of his holiness." (Ps. 29:1-2) Worship gives God
honor; it offers him standing ovations. Worship can happen every day and in
every activity. We can make a big deal about God on Sundays with our songs, and
then on Mondays with our strengths. "Take your everyday, ordinary life –
your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life – and place it
before God as an offering." (Rom. 12:1)
Worship places
God on center stage and us in a proper posture. King David knew that. In the
Old Testament book of 1 Chronicles 29, the historian informs us that David and
his men had just raised enough money to build the temple. This was the most
successful fund-raising campaign in the history of God’s people – ever. Philanthropy magazine would have happily
dedicated an entire issue to these fund-raisers. However, they’re now sitting
ducks for cockiness to set in. But before their heads could swell, their knees
bowed. David leads them in a prayer of worship. Read it . . . slowly:
“Praise be to
you, O LORD, God of our father Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. Yours,
O LORD, is the greatness and the power and the glory and the majesty and the
splendor, for everything in heaven and earth is yours. Yours, O LORD, is the
kingdom; you are exalted as head over all. Wealth and honor come from you; you
are the ruler of all things. In your hands are strength and power to exalt and
give strength to all. Now, our God, we give you thanks, and praise your
glorious name. But who am I, and who are my people, that we should be able to
give as generously as this? Everything comes from you, and we have given you
only what comes from your hand. (1 Chron. 29:10-14)
Imagine a big-headed
guy offering this prayer. He begins arrogantly – his chest puffed out and his thumbs
in his lapels – but as the worship continues, reality begins to set in. As he
recites phrases like "Yours . . . is the greatness," "Wealth and
honor come from you," "Everything comes from you," he dismounts
his high horse. Worship humbles the smug. By the same token, worship lifts the
deflated. Read Psalm 27:10-11, 13-14 to see if the weak wouldn't be
strengthened by these words: “Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD
will receive me. Teach me your way, O LORD; lead me in a straight path because
of my oppressors. . . . I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness
of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take
heart and wait for the LORD.”
Can't you see a
head lifting? A back straightening? "The LORD will receive me. . . . I
will see the goodness of the LORD." Can you see how these words would turn
a face toward the Father and away from frailty? Worship does that. Worship
adjusts us, lowering the chin of the haughty, and straightening the back of the
burdened. Breaking the bread, partaking of the cup. Bowing the knees, lifting
the hands. This is worship. In the solitude of a corporate cubicle, or in the
community of a church. Opening our mouths, singing to him our praise. Opening
our hearts, offering to him our uniqueness. Worship properly positions the
worshiper.
And all of us
really need that because we walk through life so bent out of shape. Five-talent
folks swaggering: "I bet God's glad to have me." Two-talent folks
struggling: "I bet God's sick and tired of putting up with me." So
sold on ourselves that we think someone died and made us ruler; so down on
ourselves that we think everyone died and just left us. Try treating both
conditions with worship. Set your eyes on our uncommon King.
One summer at
Lake Havasu, I took a sailing lesson from my uncle who owned a Hobie Cat. Ever puzzled by the
difference in leeward, starboard and stern, I asked him a few questions. After
a while my uncle offered, "Would you like to sail us home?" I
reminded him that a city-slicker had never won the America's Cup. He assured me
that I would have no trouble and pointed to a rocky outcrop on the shore.
"Target that cliff," he instructed. "Set your eyes and the boat
on it."
I found the
instruction hard to follow. Other sights invited my attention: the springy
trampoline of the deck, the piercing blue sky, the rich foam cresting on the
waves. I wanted to look at it all. But look too long and I risked losing
course. The boat stayed on target as long as I set my eyes beyond the vessel. And
worship helps us do the same in life. It lifts our eyes off the boat with its fancy
gadgets and sets them "on the realities of heaven, where Christ sits at
God's right hand in the place of honor and power." (Col. 3:1) We worship
God because we need to. But our need runs a turtle-paced distant second to the
thoroughbred reason for worship itself. The chief reason for applauding God? He
deserves it.
If singing did
nothing but weary your voice, if giving only emptied your wallet – if worship
did nothing for you – it would still be the right thing to do. God warrants our
worship. How else do you respond to a Being of blazing, blistering,
unadulterated, unending holiness? No mark. Nor freckle. Not a bad thought, bad
day, or bad decision. Ever. What do you do with such holiness if not simply adore
it? And his power. He churns forces that launch meteors, orbit planets, and
ignite stars. Commanding whales to spout salty air, petunias to perfume the
night, and songbirds to chirp joy into the spring. Above the earth, flotillas
of clouds endlessly shape and reshape; within the earth, strata of groaning
rocks shift and turn. Who are we to sojourn on a trembling, wonderful orb so
shot through with wonder?
And tenderness?
God has never taken his eyes off of you. Not for a millisecond. He's always
near. He lives to hear your heartbeat. He loves to hear your prayers. He'd die
for your sin before he'd let you die in your sin. So he did. What do you do
with such a Savior? Don't you sing to him? Don't you celebrate him in baptism,
elevate him in Communion? Don't you bow a knee, lower a head, hammer a nail,
feed the poor, and lift up your gift in worship? Of course you do.
So worship God.
Applaud him loud and often. For our sake, we need it. And for heaven's sake, God
deserves it.
Grace,
Randy
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