Working at Cross Purposes

When I reflect on the things I recorded yesterday, I find a decade has greatly changed the shape me.  Back then, I saw little benefit in the traditional format of worship, apart from the loveliness of high church music.  I considered the Spirit mostly stifled.  Obviously, I thought soulful worship was  all about style, though I hardly realized I carried these assumptions.  Now I think the humorous pastor's assessment of  bad sermons/good listeners that I shared the other day applies here, too.

Where am I on the road to redeemed worship now? I understand better the beauty of historic worship patterns.  I see that entering a cloud of witnesses who have intoned the same prayers, psalms, and creeds over centuries is a beautiful thing; a thing that rings with multi-voiced resonance across many lifetimes, offering a mystical bridge to the Heavenly City.  When I was younger, life was so much more immediate and locked into the boundary of "this very moment."  I was so mindlessly proud of the blade of grass that was me.  The Spirit-led bridge I believed I saw was well lit, with a neon glow--bright in the moment, but the resonance there was mostly the buzz of the bulbs, which meant it only lasted until the bulbs burned out.  And the bulbs are burning out.

I've observed the corruption of my beautiful ideal for free worship.  I've learned that it is not automatically present just because the worshiper dons a new coat for the service. Contemporary worship, too, is prone to deteriorate, becoming just as moth-eaten as its predecessor.  The result can be:

• a well-lit, well-amplified stage inhabited by a group of skilled musicians while all others doze in a comfortable darkness;
• a "Spirit-leading" that devolves into rigid patterns, maintained by strict adherence to a click track droning in the drummer's ear--this to the end so that the songs are well-regulated within their allotted time frame; 
• stage-view screens that ever display digital timers, the counting house of that precious commodity: time; 
• and a congregation/audience who feel more worshiped at than worshiped with. 

Does this mean we cut loose all worship ideals like so much ballast on a sinking ship?  Somehow, I don't think so.  I believe there is hope that tiptoes into the worship space behind all this disillusionment.  Now, I find myself sometimes moved to tears by prophetic gifts during both these styles of service--but these are quirky gifts and intimately personal, strangely "perfect" for that specific moment in time.  In contemporary worship, it might be the image that floats benignly behind the lyrics on the screens--and I catch my breath because it is there for me; or in traditional, the specific flower chosen on the altar display might be transcendent, or the position of the soloist in a choir's anthem, things that would hardly even be noticeable someone else, or even to me on any other given day.  And I know that there are similar "graces"placed for others, likewise invisible to me.  This is where my worship has headed, but for now it is a solitary road.

Sorry all that didn't tag onto the end of yesterday's post, I think I had to sleep on it before it congealed in my mind.  On to today's glance in the rear view mirror:

Sept. 21, 2002
I'm reading about the discipline of confession in Richard Foster's Celebration of Discipline.  Here are some of the things that resonate with me.  Foster notes that most of us think God was so angry with bad people that he needed somebody big enough to take the rap so he could forgive everybody.  But this is faulty, because love not anger brought Jesus to the cross, and Jesus is One with God.  He refused painkillers (that first, medicated sponge) because he wanted to be utterly alert for this great work.  "In a deep and mysterious way, he was preparing to take on the collective sin of the human race.  Some seem to think that when Jesus shouted, "My God, My God, why has thou forsaken me?" it was a moment of weakness.  Not at all.  This was his moment of greatest triumph...so totally identified with humankind that he was the actual embodiment of sin...such a total identification that he experienced the abandonment of God.  Only in that way could he redeem sin. Having accomplished this greatest of all work.  He took refreshment. [later this second sponge makes a HUGE appearance in my life.  At this time, I completely missed it in Foster's reference, not even realizing there was a "second" sponge.]...Soon after, he gave up his spirit to the father.(p.143-4)

Confession is psychologically therapeutic, but with the cross it is so much more.  It offers a deeper subjective change within us even as it offers objective change between us and God.  Foster indicates we must seek confession as a gift that leads to the realization of our "desire to be conquered and ruled by God." (p. 152) 
"Confession begins in sorrow, but ends in joy."  Do I believe this?  Self-assessment check:  I don't practice confession because what I really believe is that confession begins in sorrow and ends in condemnation without, self-loathing and despair within.  I need that to be redeemed!
Prayer focus regarding confession:
1)If I'm going to give this a try, I need You to lead me to someone safe as the receiver of my confession.
2)Help me be a better receiver myself, good at keeping confidence and not so prone to either shrug off someone's admission as a "small" thing or--on the flip side--find myself too horrified to bring You into the moment.
3)Help me not to slip into self-importance if someone does ask me to be a confidante, like that's some sort of badge of personal honor.
Help me in these things, O Lord!  And frankly, I tremble at the thought of asking You to increase grace toward this discipline in my life--yet I ask anyway.  Help Thou, my faint heart.

The first thing that jumps out at me is Your overarching impact,a thing that at first blush has nothing to do with the entry's explicit topic. 
My current prayer journal has me reflecting more on that Rob Bell book about love winning.  I agree with other reviewers:  I don't fully agree with it, but it does prompt good questions.  One of the things I think he implies is that while God provides a hell for those who do not choose His love, nevertheless, belief in a God of wrath is anathema to embracing this God of love.  (At least that's my take on his premise.)  This morning's Bible reading , however, led me to hear John the Baptist say to the Pharisees and Sadducees, "Brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?"  Bell is essentially silent on this "wrath to come" even though it is a common thread in scripture.  His adoration of Your love is enticing, Despite that, my heart begs audience on this matter:  teach me about Your wrath, too.  I would know a balanced picture of Thee. 
It feels a rugged request, a whisper from a puny human clinging to the top of a mountain as wild winds whip around and demons laugh at such ridiculous boldness.  No matter, (gulp) I say the question stands.  I ask:  how does the love that Bell describes in such persuasive terms balance with the wrath I can't help but find in Your Word?  And so I notice right away  that this  confusion regarding love and wrath is woven into Foster's description of people's understanding of the Cross--a thing that found a place in my journal 10 years ago, and one I am still trying to understand. 
I guess some things are even yet a work in progress.