Our boys raising the roof: Gull Lake Ministries 2019 (There is one behind the pillar, but you can see his arm!)
Faith in its celebration sometimes becomes a delirious joy coursing through our bodily being, when we really begin to see how great and lovely God is and how good he has been to us. (Dallas Willard, The Celebration of the Disciplines)
"Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy. How awesome is the Lord Most High, the Great King over all the earth!" --Psalm 47:1-2
"Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found." So they began to celebrate. --Luke 15:23-24
There is an old picture I remember seing. I am one or two years old. Maybe I am wearing a diaper, maybe not, but I am holding a strategically placed balloon so it is okay. In fact, it is amazing. It is amazing not for the balloon, but for my expression; on my face I see utter, complete, belly-shaking joy.
In the last year, I can count the utter, complete, belly-shaking joy on one hand...with several fingers left over.
I don't know what happened over the last 50 years that chipped away at that joy. I know life has happened; there were some low spots; heart breaks, discouragements, shattered dreams, worries and anxieties. Yes. But there were also high spots; birthdays, and graduations, and our wedding day. There have been victories and celebrations of three healthy boys. We have seen incredible beauty and tasted wonderful food. We have seen the miraculous and mighty power of God at work.
But I seldom laugh like that any more, and it has taken it's toll. Not just on my heart, but on the hearts of those around me, my marriage and our children. "What can I do to make you laugh again?" my wife said to me recently, "You seem so sad. Where is the dreamer who swept me away with visions of a life full of adventure when we didn't have two nickels to rub together?"
She's right. My wife gave me two tickets to see a movie together at Christmas. I still have them.
No one is to blame. There is no fatal wound. This really is on me, and I have resolved that in the next several months, I am going to grow closer to the heart of a God who loves to rejoice with me. I have been lost, but I have also been found. And it may be a discipline at first, but I am going to connect with God and it starts in worship. I am no longer going to be bound and afraid of what others might think if I lift my hands in worship. I have never done this before and it makes me nervous. It may not be at the appropriate times. And it is going to be intentional, at first. However, I believe that it will become natural because I believe that is closer to the truth of how God created me...like that little boy with the balloon who so reflected the heart of God.
Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.
UPDATE: I did it! It was sweaty. (I brought a handkerchief to blot my brow.) It was only during the refrain, but I was able to raise my hands in worship! And though it was a bit mechanical, it helped me to focus, not on the words, but on the One the words were directed to. I can't wait until next week!
