A few days ago someone posed a “What would you do if…” scenario to me. The thing they asked was difficult and heart wrenching, and I was left wrestling with the implications of such a choice. It troubled me at the time, but there was still solidarity in the fact that no such event would occur. Sure, it was within the realm of possible, just not probable. Behind the safety of the hypothetical, I declared my choice and stood firm upon my answer.
Within a week, I came to face it. The improbable and conjectural was now neither. While I have yet to make the choice the circumstances pose, it has to be made. Will my answer be upheld or will I bow to the alternative under the new light of the reality of the circumstances?
First, let’s walk through the process of consideration.
On my way to church this morning I asked God all of the questions racing through my mind. My head and heart mourned over it. My emotions tugged at my soul.
“What am I to do?”
Silence
I knew the answers. God had given them already. I just hated them.
Today at church the topic of worship came up. When the children were asked, “How do you honor God with your worship?” They all responded by saying, “You sing louder, you dance more, you raise your hands, and you get more into it.” It made me sad because these young impressionable children are already having the concept of worship diluted. Sure, they’re fourth graders, but they will grow up never knowing that worship is the highest calling a child of God can have. It’s not a song or singing one. Worship is obedience unto the cross!
I didn’t correct them. How could I explain to a fourth grader what most adults in the forties still can’t wrap their minds around?
This evening, I stood outside a home and heard music coming from within. It was in a room in back, and a single guitar was playing while the circle sang. Everything came to a head. My mind, soul, and body screamed at the cliché. Why do we sing this way? It’s so foreign and unnatural. It’s so… fabricated and formulaic. It’s almost as if we wanted to do something churchy, but didn’t know what else to do, so we brought a guitar. And isn’t that what every other church does? But who started it? Where did we get the idea that that was how to praise God? Since when did we trivialize worship by making it a song that’s more about us loving God than about God and who He is? Since when did our faith because outwardly expressed by the raising of our hands and swaying? Why don’t we praise God the way we were meant to? Some could sing, some write, some dance, some paint, and some could just sit in silence. Some could serve, some could lead, some could care for others, some could teach, and some could simply learn. Yet, someone, somewhere, decided three songs and sermon was the holiest thing to do.
The door opened and a friend invited me in. All of my bitterness and sadness followed me.
On my way home, it suddenly struck me.
I am troubled.
This is what troubled looks like. It’s a heart and mind in upheaval.
There is no easy conclusion to being troubled. It is simply the reality of right now.
“Father, you are near my troubled heart, and you are faithful when I am not. You fight on my behalf, comfort my weary spirit, and carry my heavy burdens. You are the stillness in my trouble and the center of my storm. You are God and you are king! You are near to me.”