Liturgy

There's something about it... not sure what it is. Maybe I'm going through a phase. But I'm increasingly drawn back to it.

Tragedy has a tendency to drive you strongly in one direction or the other. For me, the tragedy was a long time ago (well, relatively speaking). However, I've observed from my experience and that of others that tragedy will either drive you away from God or toward him.

In my case it drove me toward him. Not just toward God, but deeper into the traditions that have formed me since my youth. I still believe that so many of my Lutheran brothers and sisters are dead in terms of their evangelistic fervor. However, I have grown tired of happy-clappy worship that revolves around my emotions and how I feel instead of the story of what God has done in Christ.

That doesn't mean I reject contemporary worship forms. In fact, the places where I've attended the past few years have carefully chosen "praise and worship" choruses that have glorified Christ, his work on the cross, his resurrection from the dead, and his coming return and renewal of heaven and earth rather than focus on me and my changing emotions. However, even so, I feel drawn to the ancient forms that I heard since I was a young child.

That probably has more to do with what's comforting than anything else. Which, of course, brings things back to my emotions, not Jesus. Hence why I think it might be a phase. 

I remember almost two years ago, at around the time my personal tragedy was coming to a close, when I went to a conference for church leaders with my best friend. On the last night of the conference, there was a long prayer time, occasion for confession of sin, and the Lord's Supper. I remember going up for confession (because boy I needed it), receiving absolution, and then receiving the Supper. I then went back to my seat to pray, feeling refreshed. There was worship music still going on as I prayed. Then the band started to play:

Jesus, what a friend for sinners;
Jesus, lover, of my soul!
Friends may fail me, foes assail me,
He, my Savior, makes me whole.
Hallelujah, what a Savior,
Hallelujah, what a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,
He is with me to the end!

I broke down bawling. Like, literally, on the floor, crying. I remember singing that so many times in the church where I grew up. And the words just cut straight through to my heart, it was exactly what I needed. I remember going to bed that night at peace, very odd because of what was supposed to happen the next day.

It was comforting because it was familiar. We can make the familiar into an idol, yes. And we can depend on it rather than Jesus. But maybe this was (and is) something else. Maybe this is Jesus taking me down, down, back to the basics. Back to the "heart of worship," if you will. Stripping away all of my foolish pretenses about being holy and good and all of that, and bringing me back to the place where I cling to him for life, indeed, for life eternal.

Jesus, I do now receive him,
More than all in him I find!
He has granted me forgiveness,
I am his, and he is mine!
Hallelujah, what a Savior,
Halleluhah, what a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,
He is with me to the end!