I’ve decided it’s time again for a short explanation on my Friday posts. Some 5MF-ers post the intro every week. Perhaps I should too. 🙂 Anyway, each Friday, Lisa-Jo gives us a prompt and we are to write about that prompt for five minutes. No longer. (Sometimes I cheat. It’s hard to stop once you’re rolling!) Unedited. (I at least run spell-check. I know. Total cheater.) Usually if I post on a Friday, it’s for Five-Minute-Friday. The image will clue you in. But so will clicking on it. Today’s word is: Worship.
Here we go!
When I was single, I understood worship as a lifestyle. But it mostly happened in my room, face on the floor, candles lit, tears streaming, songs pouring from my soul to my heart from my mouth. Uninterrupted. Intentional. Beautiful. Raw.
Then I got married. And… well, it can be a little awkward to be caught in the middle of a moment like that… but I still tried. But then life so quickly set in. Full-time jobs. Caring for a husband. Cooking meals, doing laundry, paying bills, getting groceries… I was only doing these things for one extra person… yet I still felt up to my elbows in chores. I remember resentfully and begrudgingly doing the dishes one night as a newlywed. I’m sure my frustration had little to do with the chore and more to do with the converging rivers of two separate people making life as one.
As my thoughts rumbled with grumbling and complaining to God, I heard Him whisper back, “This is worship.”
Humility-slap (If humility can slap).
I was humbled. But I immediately understood. As I submitted my life to marriage and the union of two people journeying together, caring for each other, doing their part to improve this world as one… sometimes my act of worship was going to be dishes. Or laundry. Or groceries. Each act of love spent loving another, especially my husband, was a sweet incense to the throne room of heaven.
It’s not always sensational.
It’s not always obvious.
Dishes are just dishes… dirty, nasty, food-encrusted ceramic (or plastic) releasing its filth into the same soapy water that is clinging to my hands.
Until I realize it’s not about dishes. It’s about providing a clean and loving atmosphere for my husband- the man God has gifted me. It’s about being humble enough and willing enough to get a little dirty for a good cause. It’s about being able to offer quality hospitality to whoever needs a meal or friendship. It’s about stewardship over each thing God gives us. Some people don’t even have a plate to eat on…
Who knew dishes could be more than soap and grime?
Then kids came along… and worship began to include story times, diaper changes, sleepless nights (filled with desperate prayers), bandaged wounds, taking in and adopting orphans, disciplining, training, correcting, feeding, more cooking, more laundry, more dishes, taxi-ing…
And sometime I forget that my life in those mundane moments is an opportunity for worship. A chance to dig in and see God’s goodness and kindness and tenderness and compassion- and praise Him for it. A chance to acknowledge, accept, and confess my weaknesses, my inadequacies, my failures- and re-claim my need for a Savior. THIS is worship.
Most of my worship happens in the normal, messy moments.
Only every now and then, under a steeple.