I think we often interpret Old Testament Bible verses in terms of New Testament reality.
Sometimes that’s warranted because the verses foreshadow the fullness of Christ’s birth, life, death and resurrection.
But sometimes we miss out on the deeper meaning of what God was saying through His prophets.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the verse, “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it” quoted as a general blessing/admonition/encouragement at the beginning of a worship service or just the start of an ordinary day.
I don’t think that’s technically a misappropriation of the sentiment, but I do think it falls far short of what the Psalmist was trying to convey.
The Temple stood on a hill above Jerusalem and those last steps for the pilgrims who traveled faithfully three times a year to celebrate the appointed festivals were hard. Many had walked miles and miles and were just plain tired.
So they sang songs (Psalms) to encourage their hearts as they plodded forward.
If you have a Bible with notes you’ll see them marked as “Songs of Ascent” because that was exactly what they were.
In addition to the expense, time, effort and commitment it took to make it to the Temple, pilgrims were expected to offer a sacrifice. Some could bring their own and some had to purchase a lamb or ram or other sacrificial animal from those offered by vendors just outside the inner courts.
It could be easy to resent the cost of coming.
It would be absolutely understandable to get just a bit disgruntled making those last few steps to plunk down a sacrifice to a God they couldn’t see.
So the Psalmist says, “This is the DAY(the appointed feast, the reminder of covenant, the renewal of promise) the Lord (Yahweh, the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and you) has made (ordained, appointed, set aside). Let us rejoice (revel in the fact that He has chosen us of all people, that He is faithful, that we can come and worship) in it.”
God doesn’t need my lamb or goat or calf.
The feasts weren’t designed to jog His memory regarding my relationship with Him, they were designed to help ME remember that I am creature and He is Creator.
And I need that reminder most when things are hard, when I am tired and when I may have forgotten that worship is a privilege.
Some days are uphill all the way.
I’ve had a few of those lately.
And while this verse isn’t really about ordinary days, it helps my heart as much on those as it does on the special ones. ❤
I was introduced to praise choruses in my mid-twenties.
I love both.
I used to hear or sing along to them and feel them feed my spirit.
My family sang in choirs, served on worship teams and was rarely absent from church for over twenty years. Music was part of everyday life with a special bonus on Sundays.
Now I find it hard to hear and even harder to sing some hymns I used to love.
One of the most challenging is “It Is Well”-really,ISit well?
Can I sing these words with conviction or am I lying my way through just to keep others from asking questions?
I know the story behind the hymn-at least the part every worship leader or pastor likes to share. Horatio Spafford wrote the words as he passed the very spot where his daughters drowned in an ocean crossing. His life didn’t end on a high note. It’s often introduced as an amazing testimony of victory over grief and death. If I only cling harder to Jesus, I, too, can experience perfect peace in the midst of great trial and suffering.
We sang that hymn in church a couple of weeks ago and I realized that it is a prayer as much as (or instead of) a declaration.
In many ways, after 5 years, it ISwell with my soul.
I’ve reached a place where I can rest easy with unanswered questions and where I have finally received this blow with open arms. I’m not fighting theFACT of my son’s earlier than expected move to Heaven.
On those days, I can sing the chorus as an affirmation of truth.
But I have days (and sometimes weeks) where life and memories and anniversaries and random stress unsettle me again. So then I sing it as a PRAYER like the psalmist who turns his heart to the only One Who can fill it again with grace, peace and hope.
It may not be well rightNOW, but itWILLbe well.
I can trust that He who began a good work in me will complete it.
I can lean on the truth that in Christ every promise of God is “yes” and “amen”.
I know, deep in my bones, that all this heartache will ultimately be redeemed and that whatever I have lost in this life will be gloriously restored in Heaven. ❤
We usually think of worship as songs of joy and happiness extolling the virtues of God and Christ.
While that is most certainly a form of worship, it is absolutely not the only one.
Biblical lament is an honest, vulnerable expression of pain, a crying out to God in faith as we are suffering.
― Cindee Snider Re
Worship is also the broken whimper of a scared and wounded child, crawling into the lap of her Abba Father.
There is no less adoration in this ultimate act of confident trust than in the most eloquent declaration of theological truth in word or song.
Lament is worship.
Christian lament is not simply complaint. Yes, it stares clear-eyed at awfulness and even wonders if God has gone…Yet at its fullest, biblical lament expresses sorrow over losing a world that was once good alongside a belief that it can be made good again. Lament isn’t giving up, it’s giving over. When we lift up our sorrow and our pain, we turn it over to the only one who can meet it: our God.”
― Josh Larsen
Bringing my brokenness to God as an offering, trusting Him to receive it, to keep it and to begin to weave even this into the tapestry of my life is perhaps the ultimate act of worship.
When I refuse to pretend, refuse to hide, refuse to run away and look for an answer somewhere else, I affirm that He is my God, and there is no other beside Him.
A lament is an act of worship, a faith statement of trust, in the face of difficulty. It’s a wonderfully honest way to acknowledge our trouble to God as we also acknowledge our hope is in him.
― Linda Evans Shepherd
God is not only the God of the sufferers but the God who suffers. … It is said of God that no one can behold his face and live. I always thought this meant that no one could see his splendor and live. A friend said perhaps it meant that no one could see his sorrow and live. Or perhaps his sorrow is splendor. … Instead of explaining our suffering God shares it.
― Nicholas Wolterstorff
I love their bright aspect that brings a smile to my face no matter what mood I’m in or what trial I’m facing. Their happy, heavy heads declare that today is a day to shine!
Last week as I was walking, getting some *fresh* air in congested California I passed a house where some precious soul had planted a row of sunflowers and they were standing bravely, boldly behind the fence that declared, “This far and no further”.
Their heads were turned toward the eastern sky, soaking in the sun’s rays and reflecting back the light and life that sun brings to everything on earth.
There is no denying that sunflowers sing praise.
They sing praise to a new day when their heads rise to meet the sun.
They sing praise to provision when they follow the light as it moves across the sky.
They sing praise to rest when their heads droop as the sun sinks low in the western horizon.
They are a living testimony to our Creator.
I want to be like the sunflowers-compelled to turn my face to the Son.
I want to be a witness to the life He gives and sustains.
I want to reflect and represent Him boldly, bravely and big.
It’s really hard to wrap my mind around what exactly Dominic is doing now that he’s not here with me. Sometimes I try to create a narrative or a scene or a story line that gives me something to hold on to.
It’s not easy though.
So I absolutely understand why some parents think of their missing child as their “guardian angel”. But that just doesn’t correspond to what Scripture tells me about what happens after death.
I firmly believe that there is a heaven and that my son is there, in the presence of Jesus and the saints that have gone before.
We are confident, then, and would much prefer to leave our home in the body and come to our home with the Lord.
I Corinthians 5:8 CJB
He’s not an angel nor has he been assigned to look out for me down here with some kind of supernatural power to intervene and make things happen-either good or bad.
He is worshiping with other believers at the feet of Jesus, the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world.
And honestly, that brings me more comfort than the thought that he is watching me suffer his absence down here.
Dominic loved me-still loves me, I believe-and if he were aware of the deep pain his absence causes it would be torture for him.
But in the presence of Christ there is only joy.
You teach me the way of life. In your presence is total celebration. Beautiful things are always in your right hand.
Psalm 16:11 CEB
So he cannot know my pain.
It would break his heart.
It is great consolation in this journey to realize that he is beyond ALL pain and sorrow.
Twenty-four hours separate one of the most outlandish global parties and one of the most somber religious observances on the Christian calendar.
Many of the same folks show up for both.
Mardi Gras, “Fat Tuesday”, is the last hurrah for those who observe Lent-a time of reflection, self-denial and preparation before Resurrection Sunday.
It’s a giant party-food, fellowship and fun-a wonderful way to celebrate the blessings of this life.
Ash Wednesday, by contrast, is an invitation to remember that “from dust you came and to dust you will return”. None of us get out of here alive.
Even where the Gospel is preached every Sunday there are those who forget this life is hard and often full of pain and suffering.
If your experience so far has looked more like Mardi Gras and less like ashes, well, then-be thankful.
But don’t be deceived.
“From dust you came and to dust you will return.”
For some of us it was a similar twenty-four hour turnaround that upset our world, tossed us headfirst into the waves of sorrow and burned that truth into our hearts, not just dabbed it on our foreheads.
Sometimes I feel excluded from fellowship with the saints because I can’t join in the celebratory spirit of a worship service.
When the hymns only focus on our “victory in Jesus” my heart cries, “Yes-but perhaps I won’t see the victory this side of heaven.”
When the congregation claps and dances to feel-good songs that celebrate the sunshine but ignore the rain, my eyes swim with tears because I know the reality of a downpour of sorrow.
Because sometimes praise is a sacrifice.
Church needs to be a place where we can share the pain as well as the promise that Christ will redeem it.
Jesus Himself said,“in this world you will have trouble”.
So I can’t claim allegience to the Church of the Perpetually Cheerful.
I want to create space for the hurting and broken and limping and scared.
How about a new demonination that acknowledges the truth that life is hard. Instead of the Overcoming Apostolic Praise-filled Ministers of Eternal Optimism I would name it the Trudging But Not Fainting Faithful.
By all means enjoy the “Fat Tuesdays” in life.
Drink them in, dance, celebrate!But remember that it can change in a heartbeat. And that it HAS changed for many of us.