Heart of Worship

5:30 am blared loudly from two different alarm clocks.

At that time in the morning, it is still pitch black outside.

Everything is still.

I stumble blindly out of bed, trying to find my way to the shower in the dark.

This morning, I wasn't even out from under the covers before my mind was filled with these words.

"I'm coming back to the heart of worship/ when its all about you/ its all about you/ i'm sorry for the thing I've made it..."

I haven't heard this song in months. I don't know why, this morning in particular, the melody was stuck in my head.

But it remained.

As I got ready. As I prepared for my day, I kept hearing this song.

I walked out of my apartment this morning, 6:20 in the morning. Most of Lexington had not even stirred from their beds yet. Most of the little community on Brookewind still lay quiet in darkness.

I stepped out onto the sidewalk and my eyes were immediately drawn upward.

To the sky.

To the fingernail moon.

And the thousands of stars dusted across the early morning sky.

It was as if, as the world slept, the stars had come out of hiding.

Peering in on a world at rest.

Be still.

And I was privy to it... I had snuck out. Caught them.

I paused for a second.

And heard the song again.

-

Tonight I walked down to a church less than a quarter of a mile from my house.

To spend time in community. Worshipping.

People bared their hearts. Expressed feelings and told about what God was doing in their life.

-

I've had an image in my mind lately.

Of what happens in Heaven when we worship.

I imagine God on his throne... surrounded by beasts singing holy, holy, holy.

And then above their praise, something rises.

Of a different tone. A different rhythm.

And God becomes the Father.

Leaving His throne, crouching low, leaning closer.

To be able to hear better.

To overcome the chasm we have created.

Between us and Him.

-

We are worshipping.

Calling Him to us.

Asking Him to come close, come quickly.

-

In that moment of true worship, we have chosen Him.

His jealous heart aches for us.

So that when our voices rise, so does He.

When we call, He is waiting.

-

We have turned worship into a production.

But it's not just a song.

It is a call.

A request.

A plea.

It is a recognition of all the Father is...

an invitation to draw near.

-

We are called back to the basics.

To that moment when we walk outside and catch the Heavens in full display.

Or roll out of bed with a song on our lips.

It is grace and trust and risk and beauty and pain and devotion.

Holy, holy, holy.

Our voices rise to the Heavens,

our prayers as incense.