I’ve had a lot of dark times in my life – like other people, and like my characters. But for the most part, I’ve felt close to God, and even when I didn’t, I knew He was still worthy to be praised. There have been a few seasons of doubt, with despair so deep and anger so blinding that I lost sight of some important things. There were even times of active rebellion; those were the times I felt the farthest away from Him.
But as I’ve grown in age and wisdom and come through some pretty hefty storms, I’ve realized it’s important to stay close to Him through everything. It’s one reason why worship is a go-to when I’m feeling down. I’m not very good at praying; I tend to ramble on like I do with people, or I swing to the opposite side, say something very direct, and call it a day. But worship, I can do. I can sing, or say, the things I know to be true. No matter how I’m feeling, I can still proclaim that He is worthy, that I want to be near Him, that I remember the things He has done for me (and so many others). Easy peasy, right?
Well, it’s not always easy. But it’s important. Even when I felt I couldn’t, I still chose to do it. In fact, I was sitting at a table with my small group as we were talking about ways to cope with trials, and worship was my answer for how I shift my focus to Him when things are tough. And then I told them if I ever felt like I couldn’t worship, I was in trouble.
It was only a few weeks later that I began to be in trouble. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s ok to turn off the music, to not feel like worshipping Him sometimes (ok as in it’s human - I don’t ALWAYS feel like doing it, and I don’t always choose to do it). But this felt different. The weight of my burden was so heavy that I felt like I just didn’t have it in me – and not just for a few minutes on a bad night. It was a sinking feeling of hopelessness taking root. I remembered my words in small group that night about how I knew this spelled trouble. But there I was, and I didn’t know what to do about it.
I turned the music off. I chose not to sing. But I kept Him (and my relationship with Him) as my goalpost. I knew I couldn’t lose sight of Him, lest I sink in the waves. So, I fought back. If there was the teeniest tiniest bit of strength to lift my voice, I did. I made myself sit and reflect, and I prayed. I made myself listen to the words, even if I struggled to believe they applied to me. I kept reading my Bible. And I let the wave wash over me, knowing it would be temporary as long as I kept walking toward Him. Little by little, I found some ground to stand on. It still feels shaky, but I know He’s holding me there.
I worship when I don’t feel like it because I refuse to neglect my relationship with Him. So, I’m having a bad day. I don’t refuse to speak to my husband or my kids when I’m having a bad day, even when they are aggravating factors. I still hug, kiss, and cuddle them when I don’t feel like it. Why? Because they’re important to me and I want our relationships to transcend the problems that arise from our flesh. How much more should I remain focused on and reverent of the Creator of the universe? The One who is working all things for my good, even if I don’t see it? I don’t worship because I feel like it. I worship because His worthiness to be praised never changes. Ever.
Even when the heaviness
is washing over me,
and I'm too weak to lift my hands
or raise my voice to sing,
You are still in every breath,
the very air I breathe.
When I lose sight in battle
and my hope is leaving me,
when I can't see or hear or speak
and I fall to my knees,
You reach down and pull me out,
Your love sets me free.
So I'll take all I'm holding,
all that I've clung to.
And bring it to the altar,
I give it, Lord, to you.
Put me back together,
let me be made new.
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