Desperation
Tears are seldom shed, flowing down only when something really moves the spirit within. That day, in the middle of deafening silence, tears fell as the the heart was disturbed by waves of genuine worship. That day as I left the sanctuary, the silence of emptiness was pierced.
With one right hand and a recovering left collar bone, a young girl struggling to recover from injury sat at the piano, playing familiar worship songs. Her small left hand moved with awkwardness and uneasiness, her fingers hardly streching due to its under-utilisation. Every stretch from her recovering side took deep breathes and slow movements. Yes, there was no rythmn, a million and one notes wrongly played, long pauses created by lagging movements, and no QC. But yes, there was worship.
As she desperately wants to recover from her injury, she too so desperately wants to worship the lord the way she has done. So desperate that the music, the sound, the tone doesn’t matter. So fervent that all that surrounds her cannot stop her, even her own pain.
True worship is that from a desperate heart, that all is done for the glory of the lord, that he alone should be our focus. So desperate should we need him that we cling to him and never let go even if bones will break and flesh will weary. I stood beside one so desperate to worship him, and feel the paleness in comparison. The only thing that I could do was to join her in worship for the lord alone.
I find myself not desperate enough for God’s words, his wisdom, his power, his salvation. Maybe I do know what he has done, but that girl knows the magnitude of what he did. There is so much more for me to learn. And as I stood there listening to the genuine (albiet its start stop) paean for god, I guess we really are made to worship him.
For your alone are my king. Amen.
