Initiated by God

The worship of sinful and fallen people necessitates divine mediation if the sacrifice is to be good, perfect and acceptable to God. The pagan worship that surrounded the patriarchs was often a work of appeasement, a work initiated by people seeking to win divine favor. Biblical worship emerges in the Hebrew and Christian Scripture as that which is initiated by God, mediated by God, and is a response of the people of God to the grace and favor of God they have already experienced.

—Robbie F. Castleman, Story Shaped Worship, Following Patterns from the Bible and History, 38

Preoccupation

Worship is not a self-centered obsession with our sins, our experiences of God’s grace or even with our holy desires. Worship is ‘preoccupation’ with God, whose attributes qualify Him to forgive and to cleanse, and enable Him to regenerate and to transform!

—Donald P. Hustad, Jubilate II: Church Music in the Evangelical Tradition, 104

Worship GOD!

I begin with Revelation 22:9 not because I want to do an exposition of it today, but because I want us to  hear the simple command, “Worship God!”  The angel said to John, when he fell down at the angel’s feet, “Do not do that.  I am a fellow servant of yours and of your brethren the prophets and of those who heed the words of this book. Worship God.”  In others words, don’t worship angels, worship God!  Don’t worship nothing, worship God!  Don’t neglect God or despise God, worship God!  This is the last chapter of the Bible, and this is the last duty of man:  worship God!

—John Piper, “Worship God” (sermon)

Of Planes and Pews

People on a plane and people on a pew have a lot in common. All are on a journey. Most are well-behaved and presentable. Some doze, and others gaze out the window. Most, if not all, are satisfied with a predictable experience. For many, the mark of a good flight and the mark of a good worship assembly are the same. “Nice,” we like to say. “It was a nice flight/It was a nice worship service.” We exit the same way we enter, and we’re happy to return next time.

A few, however, are not content with nice. They long for something more. The boy who just passed me did. I heard him before I saw him. I was already in my seat when he asked, “Will they really let me meet the pilot?” He was either lucky or shrewd because he made the request just as he entered the plane. The question floated into the cockpit, causing the pilot to lean out.

“Someone looking for me?” he asked.
The boy’s hand shot up like he was answering his second grade teacher’s question. “Well, come on in.”

With a nod from his mom, the youngster entered the cockpit’s world of controls and gauges and emerged minutes later with eyes wide. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “I’m so glad to be on this plane!”

No one else’s face showed such wonder. I should know. I paid attention. The boy’s interest piqued mine, so I studied the faces of the other passengers but found no such enthusiasm. I mostly saw contentment: travelers content to be on the plane, content to be closer to their destination . . . content with a predictable, uneventful flight. Content with a “nice” flight.

And since that is what we sought, that is what we got. The boy, on the other hand, wanted more. He wanted to see the pilot. If asked to describe the flight, he wouldn’t say “nice.” He’d likely produce the plastic wings the pilot gave him and say, “I saw the man up front.”

Do you see why I say that people on a plane and people on a pew have a lot in common? Enter a church sanctuary and look at the faces. A few are giggly, a couple are cranky, but by and large we are content. Content to be there. Content to sit and look straight ahead and leave when the service is over. Content to enjoy an assembly with no surprises or turbulence. Content with a “nice” service. “Seek and you will find,” Jesus promised. And since a nice service is what we seek, a nice service is usually what we find.

A few, however, seek more. A few come with the childlike enthusiasm of the boy. And those few leave as he did, wide-eyed with the wonder of having stood in the presence of the Pilot himself.

—Max Lucado, Just like Jesus, 77-79