Worship

Been doing some thinking on this. Started to try some catchy phrase Sitting in the Master’s Lap and equating it to Otis loving to sit in my lap but don’t want to go there or cheapen the word so let’s just stay with the title, “worship”.
I’ve been reading Tozer’s “The Purpose of Man” where he defends his thesis that the purpose of man is to worship God. As usual, Tozer speaks to the beat of my heart and I”ve been pondering what this means. I did some journaling this morning after reading Psalm 63 … which certainly feeds into the thinking.
Not unattached to the thought is a note that I scribbled years ago that I finally taped into my journal that says.
“Is the next generation of laborers a group who will have a $100k education at the feet of highly educated professors … or will they be trench warriors who have trained at the feet of Jesus?”
I don’t know and I don’t say that as a slam to my professor friends. I say it because I believe they must be people who know what it means to sit at Jesus’ feet.
Psalm 63
-earnestly I seek you
-my soul thirsts for you
-my body longs for you
-I have seen you in the sanctuary
-your love is better than life
-and more …

Through the years I have heard some say that some worship is “just an emotional experience” … I even remember critics saying that intimate times of worship were just setting people up for failure when they returned to the “real world”. Or … could it be that these intimate times of worship are reality and we spend most of our time living a lie?
When we are engaged in worship … we are who we were created to be. We are no longer: stressed, unloved, struggling with lust, eating disorders, depression, finances, anything … Lately I have been thinking that worship is THE answer: to our shortage of funding for missionaries, our lack of intercession (though that one may be a bit like the chicken and egg debate and not worth the time).
I think of some of the songs of Graham Kendrick (wonder what ever became of him?). I think of the song that I only heard one time but it kept me in ministry at a Prayer Summit at Crown in the 90’s
Turn my heart O God, like rivers of water.
Turn my heart O Lord, by your hand.
Til my whole life flows in the river of your Spirit
And my name brings honor to the Lamb

Yes, worship … individually dancing before my King in Carver Park, through music in groups of hundreds or with just a very few. Sometimes with music, sometimes with a pencil and piece of paper, sometimes with a canvas and paint, sometimes with a piece of bread and a cup of juice. It is who we were meant to be. It is where I love to reside. Brennan Manning uses the word “union” to describe it … yes, a wonderful union.

Learning From Yellow Dog Lesson 2

We had just finished saying good-bye to Otis yesterday. We sat in the vehicle and wept as they put him to sleep. I finally gained my composure and decided I needed to go into NAPA to buy a new headlight for our vehicle. Surely I could keep my emotions together in a parts store!
I walked into the store and much to my surprise was greeted by ... a big yellow dog. I'm thinking he was a lab but I really didn't notice. I just wanted to keep myself from falling apart in the auto parts store (when was the last time you saw a 50 year old man crying in NAPA?!). I ignored the dog as best I could and went up to the counter and told the guy what I needed. He looked it up on the computer and walked back to the shelf to get the bulb. Right then, Yellow Dog sat down beside me and put his muzzle in my hand and licked it. By the time the guy returned with my headlight ... I had tears welling up in my eyes and rolling down my face. He looked at me with the strangest expression and told the dog to leave me alone. He never said a word to me but obviously thought that this old man had cracked (which I had). I paid for the bulb and left the store with tears flowing freely. I'm sure I was the topic of conversation when I left!
I thought about that yellow dog several times yesterday and last night. Maybe I just had some left over smells on my hand ... or maybe he knew I was hurting and did what he could. He didn't preach me a message, didn't say a word ... he just licked my hand. I wonder ... how aware am I of those around me who need someone to sense that they are hurting and simply need someone to sit down and, well, maybe not lick their hand but simply be with them. Jesus came to heal the brokenhearted and I believe there are plenty of folks around us who would be as blessed as I was yesterday if someone was willing to just come and sit by our side for a few minutes ... not say a word ... but just love on them.
Late last night I wrote "Yellow Dog" a note of thanks. This morning I taped it on the nearly new box of Milkbones that Otis always loved so much. I walked into NAPA again and the guys behind the counter looked at me like "Oh no, it is nutcase again!". One of them finally said, "What can we do for you today?" I said, "Nothing, just here making a delivery." He looked at the box and said jokingly, "Milkbones?" ... thinking he was being funny. "Yep" I replied. I sat them on the counter and wished them good day as I walked out. I didn't cry til I was outside ... but then I never saw Yellow Dog either!

Starting at Death - Lesson 1

It has been a long couple of days. Otis became sick on Sunday and on Tuesday morning we had to put him to sleep. He was a good friend ... typifying "man's best friend" in many ways (except when he made you mad and even then you couldn't stay mad at him too long because he was just too funny). Otis was a part of our lives for just under 4 years. When he was a little puppy I started making a list of his antics and called them Otis Tales with the crazy idea of sharing these life stories and spiritual applications some day. I don't know if I will ever even find that list but I have been laying awake thinking about him and that list tonight. And if no more than tonight, there is a lesson to be recorded from the day.

I was up with Otis most of last night and sensed that he wasn't going to make it. We took him to the vet today and they did an x-ray that showed lots of mass in his abdominal area and so we put him down. We brought him home and after spending time bidding our farewells I took him into the woods to find the right spot to leave him. Otis LOVED to roar through the woods when he could manufacture an escape (another blog entry for another day) and that seemed to be the best place to leave him. I had thought of the place through the night last night but wasn't sure if I could carry him that far, especially with the new snow. I did though, and it was a good last walk together in the woods. (too wordy so I can't tell you about following the beaver!)

When I found the right spot (which by the way I had to go on the "road closed" and "trail closed" signs ... that too pretty befitting of Otis' nature), I left Otis. When it comes to hard things like death I am a "get it done and walk away" kind of person and that was what I did. As I started my hike back along the trail I cried and cried ... again. It seemed as if the Lord gently spoke to me (not harshly at all) and said, "Scott, you've cried a million tears for this dog today but is your heart as tender toward what makes me weep?" I've thought of that a lot this evening and late into the night. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a weeping old man. But do I weep over the things that break God's heart? Do I weep for my neighbor, who sometimes bothers me with his drunkenness and inappropriate behavior? Do I weep for those who are living under the bridges around the world, who don't have a home? Do I weep for those who didn't lose a dog but a son, a daughter, a spouse? Do I weep for those who will bow down today and offer prayers to a god who doesn't hear them? Do I weep for those who are giving their lives sacrificially in hard places while I sit in ease? Do I weep for those who have never heard the name of Jesus or bowed in worship in his presence? Do I weep for a world that readily embraces what not too long ago was seen as so very wrong? ... and where does the list end?

Otis was a great dog for us and I'm quite certain God is okay with me crying over the hole left in our home by his death. I am reminded tonight that I don't want to quit weeping. I want my heart to always break for the things that break God's heart.