Tuesday, 1 April 2014

Good Friday and Worship

I was cleaning up some things around my piano and bookshelves and came across a piece of writing I did around Good Friday last year. I checked through my blog and noticed I haven't shared it here so I thought I'd do that now...

As I ponder the immensity of Good Friday, my heart is in turmoil. That God would send His Son, who is God made man, to die! To die a horrible, painful, barbaric death in order to pay for such immeasurable debt as the sin of His people, payment enough to cover the sins of the entire world population - past, present, future. And what do we do in response? Sing a pretty song that doesn't even capture how huge this is! Perhaps some try to act out the even (how can on presume to act out God's son dying, to play act God??). But our greatest attempts at worship are nothing! They don't even come close to the worship that would sufficiently respond to such an act. How can we be worthy? How can we even think we are worthy of this gift of a Son's death?! That He should die for ME! I am not worthy and yet, in my human nature, I try to become worthy, try to earn this gift. Nothing I do is good enough; nothing I do can earn His favour. I hate my ineptitude. My meagre acts seem like rotting trash instead of the jewels I wish them to be. I want to give praise to God in song, or in poem, or in art. But the words don't come (can't come?), the art is too ugly. Instead, my eyes fill with tears and I pray. I pray with wordless aching of my heart and He knows. I don't know how, but He knows and accepts. Grace. Such amazing grace. I want to sing a hymn to worship but the ones that come to mind (Amazing Grace, 10,000 Reasons, Endless Hallelujahs, etc.), they seem so small compared to the largeness that this worship should be. When in Glory, then I shall be able to worship as God is meant to be worshipped. That gives me a smile and makes my heart skip a beat with anticipation. Like a little girl peaking around the corner, waiting for a glimpse of her grandpa, longing to be in his arms, her grandpa that she hasn't seen for so long, I feel like I'm peaking around the corner for a glimpse of my Father, waiting for a chance to run into His arms. And what thanks can I give? Will He give me the words then?

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