This summer is almost over, and it has been a whirlwind of injuries, sickness, and chaos. We missed more church than we attended due to these things, and then, if I’m being honest, I was almost intentionally late to the services we did attend. Why? It’s not like it’s a good reason. It’s definitely an excuse, but the short answer is this; being there for worship, without actually being able to worship, simply made me angry. I mean, really angry. I cannot tell you the number of times my husband has gone to church early to practice with the worship team, and I would rush around all four kids to try to get there even close to on-time, only to have to battle my youngest throughout all of worship.
Shhhhh! Don’t yell!
Don’t stand on the pew!
Get off the floor!
Don’t throw the Bible.
Leave you brother alone.
No, you may not have a doughnut right now.
Of all the Sundays this summer that we made it in time for worship, there may only be one where I didn’t have to take her out of the service kicking and screaming. So, intentionally late may be inaccurate, but I stopped trying to and stressing over getting there on time.
But I have really missed worshiping. The whole way to church, I was whining, in my head about this. We were running 30 minutes late, which is about enough time to miss most of worship. The kids were talking quietly in the back, and our normal worship music was playing on the CD in the background…and me? I was angry. Angry we were late, angry I felt the need to be late to avoid a toddler battle scene, angry I was missing worship time…again, and angry at all the drivers on the road.
So my 25 minute drive sounded something like this:
(singing) Jesus, can you show me, just how faaaaaar the east is from the…
Use your turn signal!!!
In the arms of your mercy, I find…
The light is GREEN!
You know just how far the east is from the…
Skinny petal. That one makes it go.
One scarred hand to the…
Did you forget how to drive?!
We were hitting nearly every single red light, and about the time God’s Not Dead began playing, I felt sort of a metaphorical slap in the face, like being hit with a bucket of cold water to wake up and pay attention.
Why aren’t you praising me now?
verb
- praise enthusiastically.
Here I was, in a quiet vehicle, with safely strapped in, confined children, who were not screaming, and I was singing along blindly, unfocused to the worship music playing in the background, grumbling complaints about the drivers around me under my breath.
He was giving me time. I was hitting every single red light. I was already late. The kids were relatively quiet, and the music was already on. My worship time was handed to me on a silver platter, and it didn’t even occur to me until after nearly 20 minutes of our 25 minute drive.
Worship does not have to be (nor should it at all be) confined to one Sunday morning at a designated hour. Ask God for the time, and you will receive it. Make and find the time in your busy schedule, and you will be blessed.
at all times.