There are times when teaching is not enough, when lessons are better experientially learned. Turn off your brain and let life lead you by the hand. This past Sunday, my pastor let me do just that...gave my head a rest and let my heart experience worship.
Climbing out of bed was quite the chore. And even more hindering was the long, arduous walk to church. Every bone in my body yearned to roll back into my comfy bed and doze the day away. But somehow, the Spirit motored my legs the quarter mile to my preferred place of worship. After Pastor Paul's 10 minute exhortation, of which I do not remember much, the transformation of attitude commenced. Terrance and Portia led the singing fest off with an upbeat, joyful tune that brought parishoners to their feet. But the magnitude of my sin caused me to grieve in the midst of what should have been celebration. I could not lift my hands, chained by a burdened heart, caused by a chasm dug by my own depravity. Then suddenly, as if God landed a decisive one-two punch on the evil one, my guilt turned into a sense of privilege and an awareness that an amazing dose of grace was gifted to me. It then became a new day, and worship began. And my most prized form of communication with the Lord came to life again (I believe that music, especially harmony, was just too good for God to keep to Himself). And the best part - when the Spirit led Portia to sing a melodic prayer for the pastor. Oh my sweet, sweet Lord.
I didn't want it to end.
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