Tattered Worship

     "Do not stop at sorrow! Remember where you first received salvation. Go at once to the cross. There, and there only, can you get your spirit quickened. No matter how hard, how insensible, how dead we may have become, let us go again to the rags and poverty, and defilement of out natural condition. Let us clasp that cross...this will bring us back to our first love." --Charles Spurgeon
     A whisper tickles the senses; a voice speaks. Captivated, I turn. Distracted, I forget. Human, I fall. A pure, white Kingdom has been established close behind me; in a moment of my weakness, the voice penetrates the air. A creeping darkness blackens beauty. Vines of thorns crawl up my arms and drive me to the ground on which I'm standing. In oblivion, another voice allures my senses, unaware of the trap being set all around me. Tangled roots anchor at my feet and trees grow rapidly, blotting out bright rays of light with ebony branches. Suddenly, I look back to see the last sliver of the white Kingdom disappear behind a bramble of blackness. The voices grow louder, and I frantically attempt to free myself from the growth around me. I have to get away! I have to flee from this place! Where is the light, and how do I get to it again? Perspiration beads on my pale face, and I soon realize that escape is impossible on my own. In despair, I hang limp among the vines; head down and hands tied, I begin to wallow in defeat and sorrow. Deafening voices torment my spirit, and I give in to the depression. 
 In sadness, I think about Him finding me among all these webbed roots and vines. How did this happen? Where must I go from here? Blurred visions of the Kingdom flit through my mind, and I begin to consider the beauty there. A peace floods my soul, and I surrender myself to the seemingly distant Kingdom and light that must be beyond me...somewhere. Eyes still downcast, I begin to speak of hope and joy, grace and salvation. I remember, tentatively, the kindness and promises of the King. Finally, I open my eyes, and every entanglement is gone. The bright, white Kingdom lies directly ahead in all it's purity and splendor! The darkness and gloom that had overshadowed me has been wiped away; my breath seems to be caught in aching lungs as tears well up in my eyes. I did nothing to get here; I did everything to get where I once was. 
    Guilt. Guilt chokes out all sense of reality and hope. Guilt pulls you to the ground and persuades you that there is no way up again. Guilt causes anxiety and desperation in seemingly hopeless forests of darkness. Guilt drives you directly away from the heart of God. As I've served in Costa Rica, Satan has been deviously driving me from the throne of grace through guilt. I'm constantly getting caught up in lies: I'm not good enough to be here; I have nothing to offer; I'm not worthy to be with these people; I'm not doing enough; etc. In love, Jesus looks on my frantic state and asks me to trust. In tenderness, He takes my heart and gently places it in green pastures of rest. In grace, He asks me to worship where I stand, regardless of my capacity.
     I want to worship by living with vitality, serving without limits, and engaging in relationship energetically, yet I'm not always capable. The guilt that begins to weave around my spirit threatens to quench all drive and joy. Sometimes, my worship does look like a full plate and full heart; but sometimes, my worship looks tattered and broken from a human perspective. All glory to the Father who created us to be reliant and in need. All glory to the Father who asks us to worship when we feel unworthy. I will choose to worship in my frequently limited capacity, confident that God doesn't care about capacity, but rather the spirit of genuine praise.