Tonight instead of practicing we just sat around at a friends home and talked. We were asked to tell about a significant worship event.
It is hard to think of any very significant events way back in my childhood or young adulthood that were in any way significant in terms of worship as I know it to be today. I can think of significant events but in terms of worship – I’m a bit foggy. I can think of “worship” services and remember a few vividly – including the one where my sisters and I began to giggle during our special number. Not what I would want to happen to bring me into the presence of God himself. But maybe he had a good chuckle at us.
Most of the times when I felt as if I was worshipping god were quiet times – often alone in nature – when I was awed at the wonder of God’s creation and its vastness and complexity and was compelled to worship; as if there is no other response possible.
And now I worship with a lot more involvement. Maybe as being part of the worship team this is a special privilege. We are to lead others into worship but maybe we can’t do that if we ourselves are not worshipping with as much of our hearts as we can. So part of my worship has become spending time in prayer. If I don’t, I find that I am unprepared to make music. So I sneak in even a few minutes of sitting in his presence feeding, as it were, like a butterfly sucking up nectar. Sometimes even the practice itself is like a prayer offered to him. A lot of my praying is “don’t let my fingers stumble too much” since I feel rather unaccomplished as a musician.
This summer there were more than one significant worship experience in the Congo. The first one is the one that really was most significant to me though. I went with Jacques to early morning mass over to the Catholic mission at Bodenge. He goes there because I think he trusts those priests to be honest in their faith. And they are his friends. The mass was in Ngbaka and Lingala so there were parts I didn’t understand. There was a lot of ritual and much incense and sprinkling of water – customs not unfamiliar to me but not my normal routine. But that didn’t matter. The Spirit of God was there in a very real way for me that morning as I worshipped again for the first time in thirteen years on Congolese soil, sitting beside a man that I know to be a fellow believer and friend.
Got to thinking – I don’t know that the form of worship has as much to do with worshipping as my desire to be in God’s presence. Granted that some surroundings and circumstances seem to provoke worship as a response. I realize my dependance on God’s grace and the reality of his love more than I used to. Worship seems the only thing to do at times.
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