Christians love to worship, usually through music. A few days ago, I was with fellow believers from our church. As a young man (young to me, anyway) led us in song, Jesus’ presence was intimate, sweet, refreshing. Afterwards, a few of us seasoned women bemoaned how it’s harder to sing as we grow older. When you croak, it’s just not as much fun.
Today I began reading a book by Dutch Sheets called The Pleasure of His Company. Chapter one speaks to the person of God. Pastor Dutch reminds us that Jesus taught us to know God, or Yahweh, as our father. “Our Father, who is in Heaven…” God seeks our hearts. He desires relationship. His presence manifests when we worship, but often our thinking derails into believing because we aren’t musically talented, we can’t worship.
That’s where we get it wrong. It isn’t the song God wants, but the singer. Even if the one who worships croaks out a tune or can’t sing at all, it’s the person, not the sound, that fills his heart.
God isn’t narcissistic. He doesn’t need us to stroke his ego. He wants our love because his heart’s desire is to welcome us as his children, part of a great big family with lots of love to go around.
As a writer, I’ve prayed that my books would be a form of worship. Of course we want our words to honor him! But the greater prayer is that I, the worshipper, would love him with all my heart. He wants us more than our works.
May our worship be simple, loving responses to his goodness.
(Thank you to Dutch Sheets for his book The Pleasure of His Company.)
Parker Harrison fell in love with books at age eight. The writing part came later. Six plus decades after reading her first chapter book, Harrison published Princess Oni, a novel for ages 8-12 set in a Medieval fantasy realm. In-between, she grew up, got married, had kids, saw her kids have kids, and experienced lots of living.
She recently welcomed her ninth grandchild, a little boy adopted from South Africa.
Last November, Parker moved to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma where she enjoys watching TV reruns with her husband of 47 years, giving her daughters a break from mothering, and, of course, writing.
Greg Scott