Persistance.

I'm sure by now those who read this here blog have discovered that I am not exactly the most dedicated blogger on the planet. It has been quite a while since I have taken the time to sit down and write. 

Yet to write, one must live, and living I have been. A little less than a month gone by, and we've covered hundreds of miles driven down the 160 degree scorching highways of Texas and Oklahoma, including a whirlwind trip to Orlando where Mickey Mouse dubbed himself king. 

We go from proper sit-down dinners and the colossal malls of Arlington to the thirsty farm country and games of flash-light tag in Oklahoma. To say the least it has been exhilarating and exhausting. 

In all the chaos and transitions, I find myself being easily swayed this way and that. Pushed and pulled by each new difficulty and change. This past Sunday, my family and I attended the first Baptist church of Orlando. Urged to sit up close, I found myself on the second row of the extensive line of pews that seemed to be bowing down at the sight of the enormous organ pipes and impressionable baptistry. My heart hard, I prepared myself for yet another dolled-up service.

But I was in for something completely different... 

The worship band began to play. Songs I know and love, at a tempo that wasn't sleepy. The exact kind of music I had been waiting for all summer filled the room, and my heart let free. 

Then God slapped me across the face with a hard truth. 

The pastor stepped to the front, and looking the congregation dead in their eyes, he asked, "Are you worshipping God or are you worshipping a substitute?" He went on to elaborate that in the body of Christ there seems to be some confusion. Confusion about what "worship" really is, and how/who we are worshipping. Is it only because of the band played the right song, or because the lights were toned just right that we let loose and praise Yaweh? Do we lift our hands to God because we are in awe of the lead singer's voice, or because we desperately desire to hear His voice? 

As the pastor spoke, conviction rang throughout my entirety. I have let myself desire after my favorite style of worship music more than God Himself. I have sought to feel moved as I gaze out at a worshipping church, rather than seeking God to move within my own heart. I've fallen in love with worship, but pushed the only One worthy of it off stage. I let the means of worship become the end. 

Never have I felt the words of a pastor apply so clearly to my very situation. It was humbling. 

After he finished, something happened that I thought was impossible in an American Baptist church.... 

The pastor sat down and one single pianist sat down at the Grand and began to play this song: 

Then the piano faded and 3,000 people began to sing out to God completely acapella. No organ. No piano. No drums or electric. No lights. Just the undying words, "Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee. How great thou art! How great thou art!" 

And how great He is, that He would time such a sermon as that to speak into the lives of those who need it most. Justifying the ungodly and humbling those who think they've got it all figured out, He reminded me that He alone should be the object of affections. Not the things that represent Him, but Himself. 

This is getting to be a long post, so please bear with me as I tell you about the final "cherry on top". 

That evening that same church was having their very first worship service on Cocoa Beach. Our family was already planning to spend the day there and so we decided to go. About 300 people or so showed up, gathered on Cocoa's shores and sang praises to God who holds the ocean's His hands. The waves crashed, children were running into them like bumblebees delighting themselves in a botanical garden. What an abundant time of joy it was to witness the start of something so new and excited for this church.  I prayed that the grains of sand I stood on then and there would soon be walked on by new followers of Christ who might come to know Him through that unique outreach. 

So as fun as Disneyworld was, I have to say, that Sunday beat Magic Kingdom by far. I went to Florida expecting little more than a fun time at a theme park, and returned blessed beyond what I ever would have thought. One thought arose as I said goodbye to the sticky peninsula, "Almighty God has held nothing back from me. How then can I hold anything back from Him?" 

If you're reading this I just pray that you might ponder that conclusion and picturing the vastness of the seas remember that the abundant grace of God exceeds its extensive watery expanses.