Tag Archives: worship

One-Track Mind

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Peace

Journal 2006

I have a one-track mind that struggles to manage multiple, simultaneous crises. At one time I aspired to become a medical doctor until I realized I didn’t have the multi-tasking skills needed for that profession. The positive side to this super-power is I can focus on a task to completion. Unfortunately, I get frustrated at interruptions, finding it hard to pull my mind away from the zone.

As I’m concentrating on a task, I’m not thinking about God. When I’m worshiping God, I find it distracting to be around people. And while I’m with people, I can’t center on my inner needs. How do I balance these areas of focus and release my feelings of worry and guilt that I’m “less than”?

So here’s my visual: With my heart in the middle, my feet perform a task, my arms reach out to minister, and my head looks up to God. When I look within, I focus on self—adjusting and changing, making goals, and removing triggers. When I look outward, I focus on relationships and the needs of others.

So, in my visual, it’s okay to be seated (feet still, no task) while I reach out to minister to others. The body is still there, whether my mind is focusing on it or not. When I watch my feet, my senses can still be alert, aware of changes in the environment that will warn me of danger. The parts are all inter-related, still in existence even if my eyes are focusing on one part only. The rest of me doesn’t go away.

So how do I find balance? Should I tithe my time? (That would mean focusing solely on God 2.4 hours in a 24-hour period or 1.6 hours if I only count waking hours). How much time should I allot to self-examination? (As much as necessary, I think, to become emotionally healthy.) If my arms are always engaged in ministry, my feet (tasks) don’t get done. If my head always faces the sky, my feet will trip. Each part must take turns. The trick is to maintain an equilibrium between the parts.

But I must not become too compartmentalized. I can focus on each in rapid succession. Micro-seconds of looking up while engaging my hands or feet will give me orientation. Checking my attitude while ministering to others is necessary. I might not be able to stop for self-care in the moment, but I certainly can take note of it and deal with it at my first opportunity.

A 2025 Update. Over time, I worked through the anger I felt at my tasks being interrupted. I find I can more quickly redirect my attention to others or return to the zone and refocus on my task without anxiety or shame. Being one-track-minded is not a character flaw.

Temptation to Pride

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God, Scripture

Journal 2006

The tug of my human heart says I have the same temptation toward pride, the same bent, as Satan himself. I want to be like God. I want the universe to revolve around me. I want glory. Like the Apostle Paul, I want to shout, “O wretched man that I am; who shall deliver me from the body of this death [idolatrous desire]?” (Romans 7:24).

My visual is that I’m at the center of a circle, craving the world’s honor and praise. Though I want to experience significance, I don’t want this idolatry of self.  I want to echo John the Baptist’s words: “He must increase; I must decrease.”

Paul viewed himself as a slave of God (the Master of the Mansion, a perfect gentleman who looks after and cares for His servants and who gives good gifts according to their service for Him.) Kitchen maid or head chef, butler or chimney sweep—we all have our jobs to do. If we do it with a complaining spirit, we shift the focus to the idolatry of self. If we serve with gratitude and love, our load feels lighter. We’re driven to excellence. We want the Master of the Mansion to look good. Shining the gold on the newel of the banister becomes an act of worship. Fetching His slippers is a privilege. We adore Him. Why? Because He makes each one of His servants feel significant. He catches our eye. He notices. “Nice job on the newel, Charlie. Thank you for remembering to feed my dogs, Susan. I love you, Karen.”

But there are other metaphors: “No longer do I call you My servants, but My friends (John 15:15). You are My bride (Isaiah 54:10). I bought you with a price (I Corinthians 7:23). You were sold for nothing, and you shall be redeemed without money” (Isaiah 52:3).

And we remember who we were and from whence we came. And we gladly, gratefully, joyfully enter into a love relationship with our Rescuer.

But then that niggling question comes—how did we get into the slave marketplace? How did we end up in the prostitute’s parlor? And we blame God. He created us, didn’t He? It’s His fault for bringing us into existence in the first place. And we face that universal question, “Why was I born?” Just so He could have more slaves? How bitter is that?

But no. He wants relationship. “He satisfies the longing soul and fills the hungry soul with goodness” (Psalm 107:9).

“Will you be My bride?” asks Jesus. I have searched for you, I have found you, I have courted you. Will you say yes? I will exchange your dirty garments for clean, bright white ones. I will give you a crown worthy of a queen.”

And in humility, all pride gone, I bow prostrate at His feet. I am unworthy. He deserves all the glory, the honor, the praise.

Coronation Day is coming. Preparations are in the works. I want my heart to be ready. I want to complete the tasks He’s given me to do in preparation of the wedding day and His coronation ceremony.

Photo generated by AI

Peace

Posted on by under Emotions, God, Journaling, Peace, Scripture

Journal 2017

If I recorded only my struggles, you’d never know about my good times, the peaceful days. If I only recorded good memories and words of praise and gratitude to God, you wouldn’t know of my struggles, and you’d think I was a saint. Neither is true. I resonate with Paul’s words, “For in my inner being I delight in God’s law” (Romans 7:22 NIV). This may be referring to the Law of Moses, but I see it through Jesus’ words, the Law of Love: Love the Lord Your God . . . and your neighbor as yourself.

I love the Word of God, and I love THE WORD Himself. He is my only source of true joy, the author of my peace, my motive for loving my neighbor.

I don’t often record my praise and gratitude because they are a given—they bubble up inside me. But maybe it would be a good exercise to write them down as well. David did.

My praise, my worship, doesn’t sound like today’s music, nor does it sound like David’s. My praise is more contemplative, quieter, a simple thank you. It’s standing in the rain, arms raised to the heavens, drinking in the warmth and the water, dancing with Jesus, following His lead, a graceful ballet of love and appreciation.

“The mind . . . governed by the Spirit is life and peace” (Romans 8:6 NIV). One follows the other. Spirit-control yields peace. Spirit-non-control yields unrest.

Today I am at peace, at rest.

Why Go to Church?

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God

Journal 2005

God gifts and equips us to serve others, and ideally, this would be in a church setting. But a church we once attended erected a large roadblock in the path of our prayer ministry. Though they wouldn’t support us because of their fears, triggers, and misunderstanding of inner healing prayer, we continued to show up week after week. We loved the church and prayed for the leadership, but they forbade us to use our gifts in their building.

But I ask myself: What’s the point of going to church if I cannot minister to others? To be fed from the pulpit? Internet resources are boundless, and besides, I’m mature enough to feed myself.

To hear a little music performed? There are CDs for that [or live streaming today].

To worship God in a building? Nature would serve me better.

My felt need is fellowship. That, really, is the essence of why I attend church—to be with like-minded people, to worship together in harmony, to minister to others, to love them, encourage and support them. It’s not enough to warm a pew Sunday after Sunday without interacting with people.

Meanwhile, God led us to others outside the church who were hurting. One call even came from someone in Arkansas, who wanted to connect us to a friend in Germany. God’s work would not stop.

A 2021 Update: Two things. We eventually moved to a church where the leadership supports our ministry and encourages us to use our gifts with the body. Refreshing! We have a spiritual covering at last. But second—Covid. I watched in dismay as churches divided themselves along emotional lines of masking/not masking, closing/staying open during the pandemic. The results included people changing churches, people leaving church permanently, and others becoming more tight-knit as they bonded together in unity to minister to each other. I think this year has helped us reexamine why we go to church.

Why do you attend (or not)?

Heavenly Worship

Posted on by under God

(1950s) Dad building our church out of mud brick and a tin roof. What remains in 2014 after storm damage.

From my 2013 Journal.

My first memories of church included sitting for hours on a backless mud bench, singing mostly American hymns translated into Hausa, accompanied by my missionary mother playing the accordion. Dad’s preaching would lull me to sleep if Mom didn’t occupy me with crackers. Women sat on one side of the church, men on the other, and nearly-naked children squished shoulder to shoulder on the floor or front pews. In later years, local pastors and women playing indigenous musical instruments led the joyful service.

This week, when one of my African-American neighbors died, his dear wife invited three of us white folks over to meet some of her friends who had arrived to provide comfort. They all circled up, holding hands, singing and praying—loud, long, repetitive, simultaneously. We three stood quietly apart, singing softly, joining in with our hearts. Later, at the funeral, the preacher’s sermon included thunderous shouting, huffing with each sentence, accompanied by organ crescendos and a robed choir.

I thought back to an Easter service at the Eastern Orthodox Church where I visited with a Jordanian friend. Worship included quiet a capella music and chanting, solemn contemplative rituals, and a brief homily. Beautiful icons, candles and incense completed the sensory experience.

At my contemporary interdenominational church, the congregational singing predictably goes from loud hand-clapping, hand-raising, drum-beating musical numbers with guitars and electronic keyboard accompaniment led by a group of performers followed by one quiet song before the conversational-style, 30-minute sermon.

Worship cultures . . . each with their own traditions, expectations, idiosyncrasies. There’s no right or wrong way—unless the heart and mind aren’t engaged.

And my preference? I’m somewhere in the middle—neither monkishly contemplative nor exuberantly outward in expression. Quiet suits me best as an introvert. And call me a heretic, but give me an intimate dialogue or deep conversation any day over a sermon lecture. Yet I still choose to attend churches that might not suit my personal preferences. I need the variety of the body.

What will heaven’s worship be like? In the book of Revelation, John records moments of loud and times of silence. Somehow all nations, tribes, and tongues will be unified in their worship and will enjoy Him together. I can’t wait!

Sing with Me

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, God

Singing

From my 2008 Journal. You know what I miss? The focus of music in some churches has shifted from the sound of the congregation’s voices blending in harmony under the leadership of a song leader or musician—to a group of performers on stage. Now I know they’re not called “performers” and I know that’s not their intention, but . . . I personally find it a little distracting to watch what’s happening on stage. Critiquing performance is my natural tendency instead of focusing inward and upward. I know that my focus needs to be on God, and I know that I can become distracted by any number of things—so sometimes I just have to shut my eyes during worship.

I also acknowledge that the temptation with singing old familiar hymns led by a choir director is to sing with the lips and not from the heart. I get that. I know it’s not what’s happening on the stage that counts, but what’s in my heart. But certain environments are just more conducive to worship for me than others. We recently visited a liturgical church where the organist, hidden out of sight, led the congregational singing. I could hear my own voice blending in harmony with the voices around me. I found the experience quite refreshing.

Okay, I’ve said my piece. Now let’s sing!