What shall I post? It's 11:11 p.m. on the eve of a long day, toward the end of a busy week.
A recipe would be easy. I have one, sitting there, waiting for me to copy and paste. More silly ramblings are also a strong possibility.
But. What's on my mind is a jumble of deep thoughts. I suppose late and tired is not a great time to churn out thoughts. But that's never stopped me before.
I'm thinking about worship. And about interactions and about faith.
I love Jesus with all that I am. But, I hate so much of what is said and done in His name. And I hate religion. Why do we think we can understand, let alone dissect, the God Whom spoke us into existence from dust He created? Why do we think we can label and classify the importance, the value and significance of people around us when each one of those people was hand-crafted by the One Whom holds all things together? Why does He allow us to choose to follow Him, rather than demand it? Why does He respect and honor our choices to push Him away or deny Him His deity, His birthright, His honor and His glory? And the biggest question of all...why would He humble Himself and become human so that He could be tortured and killed for the sins and forgiveness of those who were wielding the whips, the hammers and the vicious words?
I can't understand a God who would become man. Who would take my place and my well-deserved consequences. Why would the Lion of Judah, the Lord of Lords, the King of Kings, the very Son of God die for me? It makes no sense. It feels like a fairy tale, or a fable that some day will be revealed to be a small, weak figment behind a large magnifying glass and a puff of smoke, and clash of cheap cymbals.
But. There is a flame in my heart, flickering, and bursting into full roar at times that tells me that what I believe is mind-bogglingly real. And that this life is the shadow, and the small, weak figment behind the puff of smoke and the clanging racket. That fire also reminds me that this life is where I can choose, and where I can change, where I can practice loving, where what I do, what I believe, sets the course for my eternity.
Maybe it's the late hour. Maybe it's because I had two long conversations about worship and Christian music today. Maybe it's because two thousand plus years ago Jesus wasn't understood, wasn't honored, wasn't worshiped and was nearing the end of His physical ministry in a horrible slaughter. Or maybe it's because I've listened to the words of the Revelation Song over and over again, and can't get the image out of my head that this God I love is beyond description. And that maybe "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty Who is and was and is to come. With all creation I sing praise to the King of Kings" is almost all I need to say to the God Who died for me, and rose again and went to prepare a place for me, and left the seed of His Holy Spirit planted deeply in my heart, and Who will come back for me.
Call me simple. Call me foolish. Call me wrong. Tell me that there is only one acceptable style of worship. Or that I am beyond forgiveness. Or that I'm not following the right Ten Step Pattern to Spiritual Wholeness. Tell me that there is a limit to the number of times we can sing a song per month, or the number of verses or times we revisit a chorus. Or that I'm listening to the wrong channel in the universe. And I'm still going to love you. And I'm still going to love Jesus Christ, my Messiah, my God, my reason for joy and peace and wonder. And I'm still going to feel the flames in my heart stir when I sing "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty Who is and was and is to come and with all creation I'll sing praise to the King of Kings Who is my everything" and I will adore Him.