Unrestrained Worship

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

Third Sunday of Advent / December 11, 2011

  

Imagine sitting alone in utter darkness. It is so dark that you cannot even see your hand held up in front of your face.  You’re not sure what has happened.  Was it an earthquake?  Did a bomb go off?  All you know is that it was very bad.  You don’t know how long you have been there – maybe you were hit on the head – maybe you fell asleep.  Anyway, you sense that time has passed.  Silence has descended. The initial shock has settled into the dull reality that things will never be the same.  You know you are alive, but the sheer darkness envelops you, and fear creeps up your spine.  In uncertainty you wonder, what is next?

Suddenly, out of the darkness, you hear a tentative voice: “The Lord be with you.” A moment of stunned silence is followed by a different voice: “And also with you.” You are not alone, after all. A third voice speaks more boldly: “Lift up your hearts!” And several voices respond: “We lift them up to the Lord.” And now you cannot help but shout out: “Let us give thanks to the Lord our God!” And a chorus responds: “It is right to give our thanks and praise!”

And someone continues: “It is right, and a good and joyful thing always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.”  Yes.  Always and everywhere – even here in this total darkness – even now when we know nothing will ever be the same.  It is right, and good and joyful to give thanks to God.  And the prayer continues spontaneously: “Thank you that I am alive!” “Thank you that we are not alone!” “Thank you for the gift of your Son!”

There is silence as this prayer of thanksgiving comes to a close – a silence that is filled with hope and possibility – so different from the earlier silence.  The darkness no longer feels so dark.  Someone speaks up: “I now understand Isaiah’s words: ‘The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light’ (Isa 9:2).  Even in this darkness we can feel the light.”  Another voice replies: “Yes, it is just like in John’s gospel where John the Baptist has come to testify to the light, ‘the true light, which enlightens everyone’ (John 1:9). Jesus is the light of the world. Isn’t it amazing that we can feel his presence shining on us even now?”

Then someone wonders aloud: “I hope my family is okay.”

A voice speaks up: “You know, I always wondered why we bothered with the Old Testament.  We heard the same stories of the Great Flood and the Exodus from Egypt and the exile to Babylon again and again and I always felt like saying, I know that story! Tell me a new one!  But today I understand why we retell these stories.  God brought Noah and his family through the great flood.  God brought the twelve tribes of Israel through the wilderness to a new land.  God brought those who were scattered and exiled to Babylon and beyond home again to rebuild.  Even though things were never the same again, even though there was much loss and suffering, God was there, God showed up, God did not abandon his children.  It makes sense that we tell and retell those stories so we can remember and be assured that God is with us now and God will see us through this situation as well.”

Someone asks: “Can you tell us the story again?”  And the stories begin – familiar stories heard with new ears – stories of Abraham and Ruth and David – stories of Isaiah and Jonah and Daniel – stories of Jesus and Mary and Peter and Paul – stories of ‘God with us’ throughout the ages.  And as this small community of faith sits in darkness listening to these stories, they know the Holy Spirit is comforting them; they feel the light of Christ; the peace that passes all understanding envelops them, and they are assured that no matter what happens God is with them.

Most of us will never experience this type of complete and total physical darkness, but many of us have walked in a darkness that is perhaps less tangible but no less real.  We have experienced the emotional darkness of grief and pain, and the loneliness that comes with loss.  We have witnessed the chemical darkness of depression or dependency – a dark night of the soul.  We have known the spiritual darkness of Godlessness and the feeling of being abandoned and alone.  And in some cases these types of darkness have threatened to overwhelm us and consume us. 

I have found that it is at times like this that our liturgy is the most powerful.  Words we repeat Sunday after Sunday become words of comfort and hope.  Words that have sometimes sounded like hollow words – words we barely listen to – words that we speak without even thinking about – become written on our hearts and provide an avenue for the Holy Spirit to work.  In that space, the rote prayers we speak each Sunday may be the only prayers we can utter: “Our Father, who art in heaven...”  The Creed may be our cry for help: I believe! Help my unbelief!  Stories that have grown old through repetition take on new life.  Songs and psalms that we didn’t even realize we had memorized sustain us. It is in our darkest moments that the patterns and habits of weekly worship become life-giving and Spirit-filled and enable us to worship again.  These patterns and habits open doors and straighten roads that lead us directly into the arms of God.

Too often people contrast liturgical worship and Spirit-filled worship, thinking that Spirit-filled worship must be unstructured and spontaneous.  Today, this story reminds us that liturgy and scripture can often be the avenues through which the Holy Spirit is able to work.  Of course, how our worship unfolds within that structure speaks to the ways we are attentive to the Spirit’s movement.  The liturgy is meant to be an avenue for the Holy Spirit.  Our worship pattern is designed to facilitate our encounter with God – the God who formed order out of chaos – our God who calls us to walk in the light and live lives overflowing with joy.

On this Third Sunday of Advent we celebrate Gaudete Sunday.  Gaudete means rejoice.  Today, as we prepare for the birth of our Savior we are invited to rejoice.  Paul, in his letter to the Thessalonians puts it this way: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you” (1 Thess 5:16-18).

Today, as we prepare for the birth of our Savior we also prepare for the day when Christ will come again.  As we live in this in-between time, in this time of uncertainty, Paul tells us that our preparation must be constant and unrestrained – listen to the words he uses: always, without ceasing, in all circumstances.  Our worship of God is not limited to one somber hour on Sunday mornings.  Rather, our worship of God on Sunday mornings prepares us for our worship of God at all times and in all places.  Our communal worship in this sanctuary of the One who is faithful enables us to go out into the world and be faithful and give ourselves for others in the absolute assurance that no matter what life throws at us we are not alone.  God is with us. The words and stories and songs we repeat on Sunday mornings give us the foundation for worshipping God in our work and in our play – for rejoicing and praying and giving thanks again and again, even in the darkest moments of our lives. 

I think that too often we practice our faith in moderation.  We give this hour to God.  We give that percentage of our income to God.  We give a few minutes each morning to devotions.  We give a few minutes each evening to prayer.  And then we forget God and go on about our daily work and play.  But Paul reminds us today to rejoice always and give thanks in all circumstances – all circumstances! For God will bring good out of even the darkest times.  And pray without ceasing.  This doesn’t mean spend twenty-four hours a day on your knees.  Rather, it means “Do not quench the Holy Spirit.”   Keep an open channel to God; be attentive to the ways God is acting and speaking in the world at all times; speak to God often – beyond those times spent in morning devotion and evening prayer.  And don’t despise the words of the prophets but test everything.  Read scripture avidly, hungry to learn more of God and discern how God worked through the prophets and still works today.  Test everything: ask questions, listen for answers, look for God at work in your midst. 

In this way we will grow as faithful disciples of Jesus Christ – ever preparing for that day when there will be a new heaven and a new earth – that day when darkness will be no more and the night will be as bright as the day.  On that day we will see God face to face and fall down on our knees and worship God with unrestrained joy.  And God will wipe every tear from our eyes and death will be no more (Rev 21:4).  

Let me leave you with a story and a song: In the darkness of slavery, men and women continued to boldly worship God.  Often without Bibles or hymnals or even musical instruments, the slaves worshipped the God of Abraham, the God of the Exodus, the God who became incarnate in Jesus Christ. They told the stories of the Bible and they prayed together and they sang songs.  Through repetition these stories and songs became an important source of joy and hope.   There is a song that has been passed on from generation to generation that was sung by the slaves in the fields and is still sung today – it is a song I used to sing regularly with the men in the Durham jail.  The words are simple: “I will trust in the Lord.”  No hymnals, no data projectors, no sheet music, no musical instruments required.  All that is required is a heart that longs to praise our God.  “I will trust in the Lord ‘til I die.”

// I will trust in the Lord,

I will trust in the Lord,

I will trust in the Lord ‘til I die. //