music :: worship :: life
Let them construct a Sanctuary for me so that I can live among them.
—Exodus 25:8
The ancient peoples of the mid-east worshipped at special places—a holy mountain, a sacred grove, a hallowed well. The early Hebrews did this, too. Abraham, Isaac, Jacob—all dedicated special sites as sacred to God, erected monuments and altars, and journeyed there to worship and offer sacrifices. Moses took the whole tribe of Israel to a holy mountain to worship and built an altar there for sacrifices.
But on the mountaintop, God instructed Moses to build Him a tabernacle—a special tent devoted to Him. This tent was not to protect God from the elements, or to hide Him from the people. The tabernacle served as an invitation to worship, an invitation to fellowship, an invitation to communion with Him.
It was a holy place, but it was a mobile holy place—a sanctum to-go. Wherever they went, whatever they did, the tent served as a visible reminder of God. God wanted to be sure they remembered that He was always with them. He wanted them to know that no matter where they were, they were always invited to worship. No matter where they went, He was always present.
He wants us to know that now. He is here with us right now. He is always present. We need no special place to come and worship. We need not go anywhere to enter into His presence. He sent His Holy Spirit to make our bodies into temples. And it is we who need to become present to Him. We present ourselves to Him, not as burnt offerings, but as living sacrifices, if, wherever we go, whatever we do, we do it all for the glory of God.
When the LORD saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!”And Moses said, “Here I am.”
“Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”
—Exodus 3:4-5
So many things distract my attention and draw me away from worshiping you.
I get distracted by my frustration with the imperfections of the people around me. So often I feel as though I am surrounded by people doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons. I know this is an overstatement; most are doing many of the right things, too. But that is how it feels. And I would rather surround myself with people whose hearts are right. I know there are many out there who are doing what look like the right things for all the wrong reasons.
More often, though, I am distracted by my frustration with myself—my inability to overcome some of my most ingrained self-defeating habits and patterns of thinking.
Lord, how can I prepare myself to meet you? Direct me. I know that all around me is your Holy Ground. Every place I go is a place you have sanctified for your own work. But, Lord, I cannot get these shoes off my feet. Oh, how I long to warm my bare soles upon the sand you sanctified. How my feet cry out like hungry puppies, blind and whimpering— Seeking your warmth, your comfort, your presence, and the all-encompassing fulness that only comes from your embrace.
Here’s an interesting statement published in a U.S. newspaper:
There are several reasons for opposing it. One, it’s too new. Two, it’s often worldly, even blasphemous. The new Christian music is not as pleasant as the established style. Because there are so many new songs you can’t learn them all. It puts too much emphasis on instrumental music rather than Godly lyrics. This new music creates disturbances; people act indecently and disorderly. The preceding generation got along without it. It’s a money making scene and some of these new music upstarts are lewd and loose.
In case you’re wondering who wrote this, and what songs the writer was so upset about, the author was William Romaine, an Anglican pastor and author, who wrote this critique in An Essay on Psalmody in 1723. It was a statement against the hymns of Isaac Watts, who wrote such blasphemous songs as Joy to the World, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross, Alas and Did My Saviour Bleed, At the Cross, O God Our Help in Ages Past, and hundreds more. Watts was one of the most popular writers of contemporary worship music in his day.
That which has been is that which will be,
And that which has been done is that which will be done.
So there is nothing new under the sun.
—Ecclesiastes 1:9
What else can I say?
You have made us for yourself, O God, and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.
—St. Augustine
Joseph’s master took him and put him in prison, the place where the king’s prisoners were confined. But while Joseph was there in the prison, the LORD was with him.—Genesis 39:20-21
I am a prisoner. I am locked away. I am shut up in a cell. But the walls of my cell are not of stone or steel or mortar, but are of choices, habits, attitudes, memories, fears, reactions . . .
Lord, you promised to Joseph, “I will be with you.” You promised to Moses, you promised to Gideon, you promised to Paul: “I will be with you.” And you have promised to me, “I will be with you.” Because of your unfailing love—because of your steadfastness, your loyalty—even now you are with me. As I struggle to focus on this. As my painful memories, my griefs, my shames, my anger, fight for my attention. They struggle and clamour and catch me up in a tornado of competing emotions. But always you are there. When I fix my mind upon the certainty of your steadfast love, my hope is restored.
I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The unfailing love of the LORD never ends! By his mercies we have been kept from complete destruction. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each day. I say to myself, “The LORD is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!”The LORD is wonderfully good to those who wait for him and seek him.
—Lamentations 3:20-25
I see what you have done for Joseph. Again and again, he left all hope behind. Everything was taken from him. He lost it all when he was sold into slavery by his brothers. He built a mercantile empire in Potiphar’s service, but lost it all when he was thrown into prison. You could have saved him from prison, but instead, you went with him into prison. As successful as he was, he was still a slave. And you had greater plans for him. All his labor was only enriching Potiphar and earning himself an easy post and life of luxury.
He lost it all again, but you went with him and brought him to Pharaoh. You had a master plan, and what Joseph was doing was not enough. You needed him for something more important.
So where am I in this? A prisoner? A slave? What plans do you have for me?
The song on the way to work this morning said, “The only thing I never question is You. You really love me like you say you do.”
A year from now you will wish you had started today.
—Karen Lamb
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