Is our Worship Holy?

 The link for this week's live-streamed service is here.

On Wednesday, we resume our study of the book, The Safest Place on Earth, by Larry Crabb. I've been doing my homework.

One of the topics that Crabb returns to again and again is worship. He believes that humans have a natural yearning to worship, but that yearning is often unfulfilled. So, I got to thinking about my own worship experiences. I've had decades of attending Sunday morning church services, so my list of special moments is long. I've whittled it down to a few and looked for common threads.

• In my youth, I was fortunate to attend church camp in the summer. We had a natural amphitheatre formed by rock ledges a few minutes' walk from the main lodge. That became our "chapel." Someone tacked a cross-member onto a tree and we had a living cross. Chapel was held every day and rule was, that as we rounded the corner of the lodge, we fell silent. By the time we arrived in the designated place we'd had several minutes of quiet to contemplate, and prepare ourselves to come into the presence of God.

• Another time, we walked out on a long sandy beach at dusk. We carried candles, and as the sun disappeared we lit them. Once again, we approached worship time in silence. Standing there on a perfect evening, water lapping the shore, and the first stars coming out, the sense that we stood before God was paramount. We prayed and sang, but I do not remember the words. What I remember is the sense of holiness and sacred space.

• The church where I was baptized had a steeply sloped floor, resulting in a long staircase from the vestibule to the sanctuary. The rule for us children was that we stopped talking once we reached the top of the stairs. The place with its vaulted ceiling and stained glass windows and its silence coloured my experience of worship in those childhood years. Even when I was old enough to join the choir, the rule of silence upon entering the sanctuary held.

All three of these examples resonate around sacred space and silence. 

• As an adult I worshipped in magnificent edifices. A pipe organ thundered the music of the masters, stained glass far larger and more elaborate than in my childhood church, gothic arches pointing heavenward--all of these accoutrements touched my heart, and drew my mind to the contemplation of the holy. Singing in the choirs of these churches allowed me to raise my voice in praise and to give back from the talent God had bestowed upon me. I was richly blessed while standing beneath the inscription "Worship the Lord in the Beauty of Holiness."

• Over time preaching became more important in my worship. I've heard many, many sound, logical, heart-felt sermons. The one's that stick with me were from a speaker who had a gift for oratory and a wonderful Irish accent. His approach was to start with something ordinary, something we all recognized, then, step by step he led us into Scripture, bringing us at last to the foot of the cross. I remember the words of those sermons and the reluctance to leave the sanctuary. There was work to do in the world, but no one wanted to leave that place.
  
  
  

• While I find most services at SPPC satisfy my desire for "church," I have found the rites of ordination most meaningful. When we called Rev. Irwin to be our minister, when we commissioned missionaries to go to the Dominican Republic, and when we ordained new elders, I felt the presence of God most deeply. I think the laying on of hands draws me into a more worshipful attitude. There is a mystery and reverence about this ancient rite that touches my soul.

So, there is my list of what makes worship most meaningful. What's yours? Do you need sacred space? Do you crave quiet? There is still time to join the discussion at Bible Study this Wednesday at 10:00 am or 7:00 pm. Or chat with your elder or the minister or a fellow congregant. The more we contemplate how and why and who we worship, the more we'll find meaning in Sunday morning service.