But be filled with the
Spirit, as you sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs among yourselves,
singing and making melody to the Lord in your hearts,giving thanks to God the
Father at all times and for everything in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.
-Ephesians 5:18-20 (NRSV)
Yesterday morning, I woke up
joyful, praising God, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I hate to admit
it, but sometimes I get a little uneasy when I rejoice. Rather than simply
inhabiting the moment of thankfulness and praise, I look ahead and wonder how
long it will last. How long before some new adversity insinuates itself into
the moment, interrupting my grateful thoughts, and quenching my jubilant
spirit? How long before I completely surrender my thoughts to life's
distractions?
Whether I attribute them to
fear of looming life storms or errant cynicism, these apprehensions tend to
target my most spontaneous worship moments, creating a concentrated campaign to
usurp my joy and stifle my praise. Every second I give to such thoughts is a
second stolen from God.
Another problem with this
attitude, when it emerges, is its overemphasis on emotion and temporary
circumstances in my praise habits. My fear that future concerns will impact my
capacity to worship suggests the praise is more about how I feel in the moment,
and less about who God is all the time. If I need further proof of this, I need
only think of how episodic my praise tends to be.
When healing, deliverance
from problems, and other blessings pour into my life; I praise. I've even
learned to give thanks at low points in life, when praise is simply expressing
gratitude for Christ's presence in a dark valley and the assurance all
believers have, that God's power supersedes present trials.
But yesterday didn't fall
into either of these extremes--neither triumph, nor disaster. Yet still, I woke
up praising.
Maybe it simply took a
mundane, yet joyful moment to remind me of something important. Praise is the
believer's vernacular, not a ceremonial language reserved only for life's grand
moments: its exuberant plateaus or its beleaguered trenches. Ephesians 5:18-20
describes worship as a lifestyle. It's meant to permeate both interpersonal
interactions and private thoughts, in all circumstances. I don't always know
what this worship habit looks like, but the Scripture and precious faith
mentors teach me more every day. Such lessons require practice, with God's
help, and time. Surely it's time better spent than the hours I would otherwise
waste on apprehensions, dropping shoes, and other tired clichés.
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