Worship
Our worship team is singing the final song. This morning I'm in a supporting role, not leading. Through the service, the four of us who are singing, bound together by a strong bond of relationship, are experiencing a glimmer of what heaven may be like as we do something we love to do; sing with each other and lead others into a place of worship.
I look down at the faces of the people in the pews. Some faces are lifted, eyes closed, worshiping God, some bowed down, just as lost in communion with him. One young girl, not even in her teens yet, in the very back row, has a hand on her heart as she sings with all of her might. I am overwhelmed with love for the people God has chosen to be my family in Christ.
Although it's the last song we'd planned to sing, the pastor has left the option open for anyone who wants to, to come forward for prayer. One or two people come and pray silently to the side of the altar. As the song comes to a close, our leader closes in prayer, and I see her; a petite, quiet woman, who usually slips in and out of church quickly, walking towards the front. I see the look on her face, a look that tells me she is crying out for something from God, and as she gets to the front I am already on my way to pray with her. As my arm goes around her, it meets another arm--another friend is on the other side and we're praying together for her like two guardian angels, one on each side. The words flow easily-- and I know that God is filling my mouth with the words she needs prayed.
The rest of the worship team continues singing and I am filled with an overwhelming need to just kneel in his presence and continue worshiping him. As I do, tears of gratitude and joy flow down my cheeks. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I think that someone has come to pray for me. I turn to see who it is and my cheek meets another cheek, wetting it with my tears. It's my five year old grandson, Stephen, and his little face is close to mine, a smile and curiosity written on it. "Omie, why are you crying?" He wants to know. I tell him that I love God so very much and sometimes when you love someone very much it makes you so happy that you cry. Once before when I was kneeling at the altar, his little form snuggled up beside me. I wonder if life on earth gets any better than this.
Psalm 95:6-7 (The Message)
The Message (MSG)
Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson
6-7 So come, let us worship: bow before him,
on your knees before God, who made us!
Oh yes, he's our God,
and we're the people he pastures, the flock he feeds.
I look down at the faces of the people in the pews. Some faces are lifted, eyes closed, worshiping God, some bowed down, just as lost in communion with him. One young girl, not even in her teens yet, in the very back row, has a hand on her heart as she sings with all of her might. I am overwhelmed with love for the people God has chosen to be my family in Christ.
Although it's the last song we'd planned to sing, the pastor has left the option open for anyone who wants to, to come forward for prayer. One or two people come and pray silently to the side of the altar. As the song comes to a close, our leader closes in prayer, and I see her; a petite, quiet woman, who usually slips in and out of church quickly, walking towards the front. I see the look on her face, a look that tells me she is crying out for something from God, and as she gets to the front I am already on my way to pray with her. As my arm goes around her, it meets another arm--another friend is on the other side and we're praying together for her like two guardian angels, one on each side. The words flow easily-- and I know that God is filling my mouth with the words she needs prayed.
The rest of the worship team continues singing and I am filled with an overwhelming need to just kneel in his presence and continue worshiping him. As I do, tears of gratitude and joy flow down my cheeks. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I think that someone has come to pray for me. I turn to see who it is and my cheek meets another cheek, wetting it with my tears. It's my five year old grandson, Stephen, and his little face is close to mine, a smile and curiosity written on it. "Omie, why are you crying?" He wants to know. I tell him that I love God so very much and sometimes when you love someone very much it makes you so happy that you cry. Once before when I was kneeling at the altar, his little form snuggled up beside me. I wonder if life on earth gets any better than this.
Psalm 95:6-7 (The Message)
The Message (MSG)
Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002 by Eugene H. Peterson
6-7 So come, let us worship: bow before him,
on your knees before God, who made us!
Oh yes, he's our God,
and we're the people he pastures, the flock he feeds.
Comments
1. on the list: Worshiping God the Father.