In church culture, especially worship, a lot of references are made to “the presence of God.” I’ve accepted this phrase as just part of Christianese – the dialect that most Christians come to adopt, a language full of phraseology and vocabulary that are very common to the Christian experience that people on the “outside” may or may not understand. But lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what that phrase means. “The presence of God.” What is it? What does IT do?
Presence is the state of existing, occurring, or being present in a place or thing. So when we say we experience or feel the “presence of God,” we mean, basically, that God is there. When God is there, something happens. Things shift. Faith rises. The impossible seems possible. The atmosphere changes. Depression lifts. Miracles occur. Why? Because the creator of the universe is there. It's not some mystical thing. The Bible says in Matthew 18:20 that when a few are gathered together, God is right there in the middle of it.
I’ve noticed that a lot of times when we have prolonged session of worship, the Lord tends to move in a common vein. At my church, City of Life, we used to have a Wednesday service that was devoted strictly to worship for about six months straight. In our ADD culture, you’d think that six months of weekly 90-minute worship sessions may tend to get repetitive or stale. However, God did something unique and different in each service. From listening to other worship leaders talk, I think this is a common experience. For instance, in one session of worship the focus may be on healing. Or on another night, the focus may be on liberty.
So what is it about our worship, when God's presence is there, that draws out specific elements of God’s character and nature and enables us to have a unique experience with Him? The only way I can really think of it is to parallel it to preparing for the presence of a human being. After all, God patterned us like Himself when he made us in His image.
When I’m about to enter a group of people who have gathered for a purpose, whether it’s for a party, or a meeting, or a church service, I go in with an attitude, with certain expectations of what will happen, and with a mindset prepared toward their expectations of what my role in the group will be. For instance, if I’m preparing to go into a party, I know that I’m going to need to be lighthearted and fun, no matter how crappy my day has been, or else everyone will be thinking to themselves, "What's wrong with her?" If I’m going into a work meeting, I know I’d better be prepared to voice my opinions, present items that I’ve been asked to prepare, and come with my best, most creative ideas. If I’m having lunch with my best friend, I can prepare to laugh, cry, or do both, because the atmosphere is such. I wouldn’t go into a party with a meeting attitude. And I certainly wouldn’t go into a meeting with a party attitude!
So, when we have a church service, where many people are gathered for a variety of reasons, the atmosphere that we set can draw out different aspects of God’s character and personality. I’ve been in services that seemed like a party. In these situations, it makes sense that God would enter our “party” with a party-like attitude, bringing freedom, liberty, and joy. The atmosphere has been set. The demand has been placed on which side of his personality should be present. And he moves. And it's not like God is Sybil, either, that we just cross our fingers and hope the right one of His multiple personalities shows up. But just as you are capable of being serious at times, then at other times sensitive and empathetic, and then again at other times hard and stern, so is God. There are different aspects to who He is. When He comes, he brings his whole self. He is fully and completely available to us. And He can surely minister joy to some while concurrently ministering love to another and healing to yet another. But the atmosphere determines the general move...
I think the unity of the saints is so vital to a move of God when we're in His presence. If I come to church because I'm forced to, while someone else comes to church because they expect the act of going to church to somehow free them of the guilt they've accumulated for actions done in the week leading up to the service, and yet others come because they want to worship the Lord, then we've got a mixed bag here. If we all come into worship for the same reason and purpose, whatever that may be, then the atmosphere is solid, the expectation is sure, and God will truly move.
When was the last time we walked into a service with a common, united expectation? When we truly expected the supernatural to occur, instead of letting services pass us by week after week and seeing no evident change? Have we come with our minds, attitudes, and focus set on making the atmosphere one in which God feels comfortable to sit right down in the middle of? Have we placed a demand on the Lord by setting the tone, preparing our hearts, and expecting BIG things? These are questions that are challenging me right now. It's not enough to sail along on the faith of your worship leader or pastor. They can't believe for the miraculous for you. Their job is to guide the worshipers into God's presence and then just step aside so that He can do what He wants to do. Unite with your leaders. That's my heart. No longer will I look to my pastors and worship leaders to do the expecting for me.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
What I Believe About Leading Worship
For the past two weeks I've been on vocal rest, as ordered by my doctor. I had been feeling achy and strange after singing, so I visited an ENT and they told me that I showed signs of what could develop into nodules, a singer's worst nightmare. For the past two weeks, I've still stood in my place on the stage every service, four services a week. I've held the mic. I've been under the lights. But I haven't been able to make a sound. This whole experience has been one of the most challenging things I've ever gone through. I don't think I'd trade it for anything, though, because it's given me an opportunity to really think about what I believe when it comes to worship.
I believe that for too long, we've embraced a celebrity mentality when it comes to leading worship in a church. The idea of "being a worship leader" or "leading worship" has been glamorized. After all, it has all the makings of celebrity - stage, lights, music, microphone. The church isn't American Idol, however. This isn't our "one shot" for fame.
In this time of silence, I've realized what it means to really lead worship. True worship has nothing to do with the leader at all. To make it so is to make yourself an idol before the people. Sure, a great worship leader facilitates people entering into the presence of God. The perfect worship, in my opinion, is when every person and every heart is so captivated by the presence of God that they can't help but sing, when each person so embraces the expression of absolute adoration to the Lord that they reach for a unity with the sound of heaven.
You know those moments when the people with mics stop singing because the worshipers in the crowd are singing so loudly, so passionately, that they carry the song themselves? THAT is what every worship leader should aim for. It's not all about everyone hearing how great you can sing, or the ad-libs that you do, or the perfect words that you think of to say during the instrumental. The best worship leader is the one who can stop singing and let the people worship on their own. The best worship leader works himself or herself out of a job.
A few months ago we were singing "Revelation Song" in church and as I worshiped I saw something in the spirit that stirred me. It was as if the walls of our church building evaporated into thin air and instead of being limited by four walls, the entire stage was surrounded, front and back, side to side, by thousands and thousands of people singing "Holy holy holy/is the Lord God Almighty/Who was and is and is to come." And in the center of it all was this shining, bright light. The sound of the worship was overwhelming, deafening. And Jesus' glory was in the center of it all.
This silent experience has shown me how selfish I am, and how driven by my own agenda, my pride, my own need for position and place and recognition that I am. It's shown me how I've put myself in the center of my worship. When I sing well, when my performance meets my own standards, then I'm happy and somehow worship was "great." When I've failed, my voice cracked, my words forgotten, then worship was "bad." My worship has been about ME - idolatry in its purest form. I've had to repent many times in the past two weeks. I've wept with sorrow for wrong attitudes, wrong thoughts.
Funny, I've been able to worship in a deep, true way without singing a word. My heart has taken on the words to the songs. Instead of thinking about the way things sound, I've been thinking on the beauty of God, the attributes of his character. How stunning He is.
I'll probably be able to talk and sing in the next few days. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, and he'll let me know. But I approach the day that I'll be able to use my voice again with trepidation, because I want all of the things I've learned, all of the things God's showed me, all of this burning in me to STAY. To stay real. To transform my future and WHATEVER God has for me in the future and in His church, whether it's leading worship or scrubbing toilets. He is the in middle of it all. And here am I. At His service. Totally available.
I believe that for too long, we've embraced a celebrity mentality when it comes to leading worship in a church. The idea of "being a worship leader" or "leading worship" has been glamorized. After all, it has all the makings of celebrity - stage, lights, music, microphone. The church isn't American Idol, however. This isn't our "one shot" for fame.
In this time of silence, I've realized what it means to really lead worship. True worship has nothing to do with the leader at all. To make it so is to make yourself an idol before the people. Sure, a great worship leader facilitates people entering into the presence of God. The perfect worship, in my opinion, is when every person and every heart is so captivated by the presence of God that they can't help but sing, when each person so embraces the expression of absolute adoration to the Lord that they reach for a unity with the sound of heaven.
You know those moments when the people with mics stop singing because the worshipers in the crowd are singing so loudly, so passionately, that they carry the song themselves? THAT is what every worship leader should aim for. It's not all about everyone hearing how great you can sing, or the ad-libs that you do, or the perfect words that you think of to say during the instrumental. The best worship leader is the one who can stop singing and let the people worship on their own. The best worship leader works himself or herself out of a job.
A few months ago we were singing "Revelation Song" in church and as I worshiped I saw something in the spirit that stirred me. It was as if the walls of our church building evaporated into thin air and instead of being limited by four walls, the entire stage was surrounded, front and back, side to side, by thousands and thousands of people singing "Holy holy holy/is the Lord God Almighty/Who was and is and is to come." And in the center of it all was this shining, bright light. The sound of the worship was overwhelming, deafening. And Jesus' glory was in the center of it all.
This silent experience has shown me how selfish I am, and how driven by my own agenda, my pride, my own need for position and place and recognition that I am. It's shown me how I've put myself in the center of my worship. When I sing well, when my performance meets my own standards, then I'm happy and somehow worship was "great." When I've failed, my voice cracked, my words forgotten, then worship was "bad." My worship has been about ME - idolatry in its purest form. I've had to repent many times in the past two weeks. I've wept with sorrow for wrong attitudes, wrong thoughts.
Funny, I've been able to worship in a deep, true way without singing a word. My heart has taken on the words to the songs. Instead of thinking about the way things sound, I've been thinking on the beauty of God, the attributes of his character. How stunning He is.
I'll probably be able to talk and sing in the next few days. I have an appointment with my doctor tomorrow, and he'll let me know. But I approach the day that I'll be able to use my voice again with trepidation, because I want all of the things I've learned, all of the things God's showed me, all of this burning in me to STAY. To stay real. To transform my future and WHATEVER God has for me in the future and in His church, whether it's leading worship or scrubbing toilets. He is the in middle of it all. And here am I. At His service. Totally available.
Ordering My Private World
"If my private world is in order, it will be because I have courageously confronted the messiness of my ways of living and chosen to bring them under rigorous discipline."
Gordon MacDonald
Gordon MacDonald
Sunday, February 22, 2009
On Getting Out of the Way
A man is of no use to God until he has had his "I" put out.
-Smith Wigglesworth
-Smith Wigglesworth
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Loved in the Locked-Out
So today I did something for the first time ever. I locked myself out of the house. The way I did it is a convoluted story, too long and trivial to tell here, but the point is, I was locked out. I found out rather quickly too, since my car key and house key are on the same ring, so as I approached my car and realized the keys I was carrying weren't the right ones, it hit me.
I called a friend, but she was busy and couldn't help. I texted a friend who has James Bond-like skills at breaking into things - he said he couldn't help. I called several locksmiths, and the only one who answered told me that the cost to open the lock would be $39 for traveling to my house, and then $15 or more depending on the complexity of the lock. I quickly vetoed that idea, remembering that my landlord has a key, and she just lives across town. Finally, I broke down and texted her. I didn't want to, because she works more hours than anyone I know and I didn't want to bother her on a Saturday. But I did, and she told me she was an hour away so I texted her that I'd just call a locksmith. So what else would a girl do in a desperate situation but update her facebook status?
Cassie is locked out of her house.
I sat on the porch in the bright sun and thought to myself, wow, you're handling this really well. I wasn't mad at myself. I wasn't panicked. I wasn't irritated at the prospect of possible hours of my day being lost to this mistake. And this was a big deal. I didn't grow up in a household of much grace in the area of mistake-making. I rarely allowed myself to err and became an ultimate perfectionist. Small mistakes would shatter me. Large mistakes... well, I just didn't make any of those. To give you an idea, I took the Law School Admissions Test after college, and decided not to go to law school after I got my score. It wasn't a bad score, more like average. My reasoning: If I couldn't enter law school with a top score, then I just wasn't going to go. A high score would be God's signal to me that law school was His will for my life. (At any rate, it wasn't His will for my life, and whew, am I glad I figured that out before I spent the money and the time!) When I moved to Florida, I met people who lived completely free of the bonds of perfectionism. They allowed themselves room to make mistakes and showed me how I could do the same. It transformed me. Don't get me wrong - I still want to be right, and correct, and infallible. Still a struggle. But I've grown a lot.
Back to the story. Within seconds of reading my facebook status, a friend texted me and asked me first if I wanted him to break into my house (I said no) and second if I wanted to ignore the problem and go get Chinese food. So off we went. Still, not worried. After eating, we went to my new house, I took a few more pictures, and then I decided to call the locksmith. My friend dropped me off at my door and I there I was again, waiting for the guy to come. Still happy. Still unbothered at this whole thing.
A big white box van pulled up, the kind that kidnappers use. A young guy with curly hair and aviators came up to the walk, speaking on his phone in another language. He approached me and looked at the lock. After inspecting it, he said, "If I can pick it, it'll be $110. If I have to drill it, it's going to be $149. Cash or credit?"
I gasped. $149? When a key was across town?! This was crazy! "I'm sorry, I can't do that. That's more than I can afford. Thanks anyway. I'll just pay you your travel fee."
"Well how much did you think it would be?" he asked.
"Like $55 dollars! It's not a complex lock! It's not deadbolted. I just can't swing it that price. Thanks though."
He motioned for me to wait as he got his phone. "Here," he said after having a short conversation in another language. "You talk to my boss."
I took the phone. "Ma'am, the best we can do is $110. If you pay cash." I was still not able to do this. I explained it to him and handed back the phone to the man with the aviators. He spoke a few minutes longer.
"My boss just said the best we can do is $65."
Now I was ticked. This was unbelievable. How does one go from $149 to $65 in the matter of minutes? They would've taken the full amount and ran if I would've been willing and desperate enough. This was a matter of principle now.
"No. I'm sorry. I'll pay you for your travel and use another option." I reached into my purse and handed him two $20 bills. He took them, ripped a receipt out of his book, tossed it at me, and walked away. As his van pulled away, I looked at the receipt. He didn't even give me the $1 change I was due. And now, I was still in the same position as I had been before his visit, just $40 poorer.
It was then that the tears began. How could I be so stupid? I did not want to ask my landlord for help after I had already told her I was getting a locksmith. Wouldn't I look like an idiot? Incompetent? Like a failure? The warm tears ran down my cheeks as I cried there on the front porch. I had no idea what to do, so I just sat there and cried.
All of a sudden, I heard a car horn. It startled me and I jumped a little, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I turned around, and a woman emerged from the car. It was my landlord! At the exact moment that I needed her most! She walked up the sidewalk to me and I walked to her. She said, "We figured we would just stop by to make sure you got in okay." I hugged her for a long time.
She didn't have to come. She hadn't been asked to come - I had been too proud to do that. But she came anyway, unsolicited.
This whole day was proof that I still have a ways to go in breaking out of my own self-sufficiency and pride. I hesitate to ask anything of anyone that would put them out. I wish I could do everything on my own so as not to bother anyone. The truth is, no man is an island. We need each other. And in situations like these, God is able to show his love to me through people - people who listen to Him, who care, who don't think it's a big deal to drive a few miles to make sure a girl can get into her house.
I called a friend, but she was busy and couldn't help. I texted a friend who has James Bond-like skills at breaking into things - he said he couldn't help. I called several locksmiths, and the only one who answered told me that the cost to open the lock would be $39 for traveling to my house, and then $15 or more depending on the complexity of the lock. I quickly vetoed that idea, remembering that my landlord has a key, and she just lives across town. Finally, I broke down and texted her. I didn't want to, because she works more hours than anyone I know and I didn't want to bother her on a Saturday. But I did, and she told me she was an hour away so I texted her that I'd just call a locksmith. So what else would a girl do in a desperate situation but update her facebook status?
Cassie is locked out of her house.
I sat on the porch in the bright sun and thought to myself, wow, you're handling this really well. I wasn't mad at myself. I wasn't panicked. I wasn't irritated at the prospect of possible hours of my day being lost to this mistake. And this was a big deal. I didn't grow up in a household of much grace in the area of mistake-making. I rarely allowed myself to err and became an ultimate perfectionist. Small mistakes would shatter me. Large mistakes... well, I just didn't make any of those. To give you an idea, I took the Law School Admissions Test after college, and decided not to go to law school after I got my score. It wasn't a bad score, more like average. My reasoning: If I couldn't enter law school with a top score, then I just wasn't going to go. A high score would be God's signal to me that law school was His will for my life. (At any rate, it wasn't His will for my life, and whew, am I glad I figured that out before I spent the money and the time!) When I moved to Florida, I met people who lived completely free of the bonds of perfectionism. They allowed themselves room to make mistakes and showed me how I could do the same. It transformed me. Don't get me wrong - I still want to be right, and correct, and infallible. Still a struggle. But I've grown a lot.
Back to the story. Within seconds of reading my facebook status, a friend texted me and asked me first if I wanted him to break into my house (I said no) and second if I wanted to ignore the problem and go get Chinese food. So off we went. Still, not worried. After eating, we went to my new house, I took a few more pictures, and then I decided to call the locksmith. My friend dropped me off at my door and I there I was again, waiting for the guy to come. Still happy. Still unbothered at this whole thing.
A big white box van pulled up, the kind that kidnappers use. A young guy with curly hair and aviators came up to the walk, speaking on his phone in another language. He approached me and looked at the lock. After inspecting it, he said, "If I can pick it, it'll be $110. If I have to drill it, it's going to be $149. Cash or credit?"
I gasped. $149? When a key was across town?! This was crazy! "I'm sorry, I can't do that. That's more than I can afford. Thanks anyway. I'll just pay you your travel fee."
"Well how much did you think it would be?" he asked.
"Like $55 dollars! It's not a complex lock! It's not deadbolted. I just can't swing it that price. Thanks though."
He motioned for me to wait as he got his phone. "Here," he said after having a short conversation in another language. "You talk to my boss."
I took the phone. "Ma'am, the best we can do is $110. If you pay cash." I was still not able to do this. I explained it to him and handed back the phone to the man with the aviators. He spoke a few minutes longer.
"My boss just said the best we can do is $65."
Now I was ticked. This was unbelievable. How does one go from $149 to $65 in the matter of minutes? They would've taken the full amount and ran if I would've been willing and desperate enough. This was a matter of principle now.
"No. I'm sorry. I'll pay you for your travel and use another option." I reached into my purse and handed him two $20 bills. He took them, ripped a receipt out of his book, tossed it at me, and walked away. As his van pulled away, I looked at the receipt. He didn't even give me the $1 change I was due. And now, I was still in the same position as I had been before his visit, just $40 poorer.
It was then that the tears began. How could I be so stupid? I did not want to ask my landlord for help after I had already told her I was getting a locksmith. Wouldn't I look like an idiot? Incompetent? Like a failure? The warm tears ran down my cheeks as I cried there on the front porch. I had no idea what to do, so I just sat there and cried.
All of a sudden, I heard a car horn. It startled me and I jumped a little, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I turned around, and a woman emerged from the car. It was my landlord! At the exact moment that I needed her most! She walked up the sidewalk to me and I walked to her. She said, "We figured we would just stop by to make sure you got in okay." I hugged her for a long time.
She didn't have to come. She hadn't been asked to come - I had been too proud to do that. But she came anyway, unsolicited.
This whole day was proof that I still have a ways to go in breaking out of my own self-sufficiency and pride. I hesitate to ask anything of anyone that would put them out. I wish I could do everything on my own so as not to bother anyone. The truth is, no man is an island. We need each other. And in situations like these, God is able to show his love to me through people - people who listen to Him, who care, who don't think it's a big deal to drive a few miles to make sure a girl can get into her house.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Song of Songs
As a single girl, this time of year, right around Valentine's Day, can be pretty rough. Recently, every time I see a happy couple arm-in-arm, or, honestly, even couple on TV kiss or hug, I get a little twinge inside, a little longing for what they have. I've never had a significant other over a Valentines Day, so I don't know what it's like to get roses, or chocolates, or a mushy card or a love poem on this Hallmark holiday. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I promise! That's lame, and I try to avoid it. But there is a certain "missing" that goes on. Like, when you see a little blonde-haired girl playing with a beautiful labrador retriever puppy in fields of green grass in advertisements, and you think, "Wow, if I had that puppy, my life would be so complete." But then when you get the dog you discover it isn't that smart, and it pees on the carpet and chews up your favorite shoes and electronics and never quite lives up to the ideal that you had formed in your mind of what "having a puppy" would be like.
(I'm not comparing having a man to having a dog. Two totally different things!!! What I'm trying to say is that a lot goes into having a relationship. It's not always as perfect and pretty as it looks on TV.)
I've had a minor preoccupation with the book Song of Solomon since last April. I picked up a commentary on it by Watchman Nee and, as he dissected the book word by word, sentence by sentence, it really captivated me. Recently I began reading it from the beginning again, and every time I do, I'm overwhelmed with the way God tells me how much He loves me through this book! And it's even better than commercial-perfect love. The world can't even write it this good!
My friend Annie cracks me up. She said recently, "I don't read Song of Solomon! That book is for married people!" Yeah, I guess it could be. But to me, it's like the most intimate of Hallmark cards- you know, the ones that have really long, specific messages on the inside, like, I still want to give our love a chance even though the kids you had with your first wife hate me.
Song of Solomon is a conversation between God and me. It's so honest.
Here's a girl, concerned with how she looks, putting all her faults out there, giving this guy every excuse to walk away, almost expecting him to do so.
She says "I am dark..." but her friends say, "You are lovely."
She says, "Don't look at me!" He says, "You are beautiful."
She says, "I have been so busy looking after everything else in life, I haven't looked after myself." He says, "Exactly what and who you are is all I want." (Well, he also compares her to a horse, but... stay with me here!)
He looks at her for what she is. When she says she is simply a common flower, a lily of the valley, nothing special, nothing precious, he says, "You are a lily that has grown up among thorns, in deep and difficult places. You are uncommon, special, unique."
He asks her to come away. And as they walk up the rocky hillside, he asks her to sing to him, because he treasures the sound of her voice. It's the sweetest sound to him.
And when she opens up her mouth to sing to him, she sings a song that voices her concern about their relationship, a song that says that perhaps the little things, the overlooked things, may spoil their love. She can tell him what's on her heart and what worries her without fear. Their love is solid, secure, stable. There's no question that he'll leave because she exposes too much of her heart, or because he sees the real her.
I am this girl. This guy is the One to which I've devoted my life, the One my soul loves. February 14 will come and go. And it'll come again, undoubtedly, and I may or may not have an earthly love to share it with.
But I'm sure of and secure in the One my soul loves. So, man or not, puppy or not, I'm good. And I'm loved.
(I'm not comparing having a man to having a dog. Two totally different things!!! What I'm trying to say is that a lot goes into having a relationship. It's not always as perfect and pretty as it looks on TV.)
I've had a minor preoccupation with the book Song of Solomon since last April. I picked up a commentary on it by Watchman Nee and, as he dissected the book word by word, sentence by sentence, it really captivated me. Recently I began reading it from the beginning again, and every time I do, I'm overwhelmed with the way God tells me how much He loves me through this book! And it's even better than commercial-perfect love. The world can't even write it this good!
My friend Annie cracks me up. She said recently, "I don't read Song of Solomon! That book is for married people!" Yeah, I guess it could be. But to me, it's like the most intimate of Hallmark cards- you know, the ones that have really long, specific messages on the inside, like, I still want to give our love a chance even though the kids you had with your first wife hate me.
Song of Solomon is a conversation between God and me. It's so honest.
Here's a girl, concerned with how she looks, putting all her faults out there, giving this guy every excuse to walk away, almost expecting him to do so.
She says "I am dark..." but her friends say, "You are lovely."
She says, "Don't look at me!" He says, "You are beautiful."
She says, "I have been so busy looking after everything else in life, I haven't looked after myself." He says, "Exactly what and who you are is all I want." (Well, he also compares her to a horse, but... stay with me here!)
He looks at her for what she is. When she says she is simply a common flower, a lily of the valley, nothing special, nothing precious, he says, "You are a lily that has grown up among thorns, in deep and difficult places. You are uncommon, special, unique."
He asks her to come away. And as they walk up the rocky hillside, he asks her to sing to him, because he treasures the sound of her voice. It's the sweetest sound to him.
And when she opens up her mouth to sing to him, she sings a song that voices her concern about their relationship, a song that says that perhaps the little things, the overlooked things, may spoil their love. She can tell him what's on her heart and what worries her without fear. Their love is solid, secure, stable. There's no question that he'll leave because she exposes too much of her heart, or because he sees the real her.
I am this girl. This guy is the One to which I've devoted my life, the One my soul loves. February 14 will come and go. And it'll come again, undoubtedly, and I may or may not have an earthly love to share it with.
But I'm sure of and secure in the One my soul loves. So, man or not, puppy or not, I'm good. And I'm loved.
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