{"id":541,"date":"2011-07-26T21:24:00","date_gmt":"2011-07-27T01:24:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/tuesday-july-26-2011\/"},"modified":"2011-07-26T21:24:00","modified_gmt":"2011-07-27T01:24:00","slug":"tuesday-july-26-2011","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/tuesday-july-26-2011\/","title":{"rendered":"Tuesday July 26, 2011"},"content":{"rendered":"

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My eyes are burning from lack of sleep.  <\/span>I’m pretty sure if I closed them I’d see red and green spots dancing from watching pizza sauce bubble on the stove for such a long time.  <\/span>It’s been a zucchini relish, pizza sauce kind of day. <\/span>And a bake cookies kind of day because we’ve been out for way too long.  <\/span>It’s also been a Liam-could-not-be-grouchier kind of day. <\/span>I have no idea what happened to that sweet little boy of ours, but I want him back.  <\/span>This little guy who showed up yesterday morning and seems to morph into ever louder and more distraught versions of himself is not someone I recognize or enjoy.<\/font><\/p>\n

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About three o’clock I decided that if I were a dog, I would totally have my tongue hanging out. <\/span>And if I were a two year old, I would totally be having a meltdown.  <\/span>And if I were an adult, I would still feel like doing both of those things.  <\/span>Just when I saw that I really was going to make it til the end of the day, the orchard (from an hour away) called to say my peaches were ready, could I come pick them up today. <\/span>Shake head left.  <\/span>Shake head right.  <\/span>Repeat.<\/font><\/p>\n

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This week is Vacation Bible School at our church.  <\/span>When I heard they were still five teachers shy less than a week from the starting date, I (okay, admit it,grudgingly) called to volunteer. <\/span>The only little kids class left was kindergarten one.  <\/span>Art projects at my house are an internal battle for me.  <\/span>I looooove to tell stories.  <\/span>I like to teach,to sing, to talk.  <\/span>But I do not enjoy cutting out oodles of little pieces and then helping oodles times ten little, uncoordinated fingers try to glue them in the right place.  <\/span>Give me fifteen years and a wave of sentimental feelings and I bet I’ll sign up.  <\/span>But for now, I am quite happily studying for the eighth grade class.  <\/span>You know, the people who are completely independent when it comes to drink and snack and bathroom needs.  <\/span>They know where to go and what to do and how to have fun all by themselves.  <\/span>I am lucky.  <\/span>I have a class of five girls.<\/font><\/p>\n

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Tonight is about worship.  <\/span>I was thrilled. <\/span>I’ve been thinking about worship for almost this entire summer.  <\/span>Ever since a friend of mine was mentioning a very, very difficult situation she was in.  <\/span>It was one of those does-not-make-one-bit-of-sense things and just seemed so wrong on several levels.  <\/span>But as she described it she said, “In all of this, I just keep hearing God say, I want you to worship me.”<\/font><\/p>\n

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It pretty much stopped me in my tracks.  <\/span>Not the concept of believing God in the muddle.  <\/span>I don’t think that’s new to any of us.  <\/span>But the word,“worship” grabbed me like it never had before.  <\/span>What does it mean to really worship?<\/font><\/p>\n

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Almost every time we hear the word, it’s associated with praise as in praise & worship. <\/span>The two seem to go together like cinnamon rolls and coffee.  <\/span>Praise conjures up images of declared thankfulness, singing, happiness spilling out and over … well, not always, but often.  <\/span>But does praise define worship?  <\/span>Or is it only a part of it?<\/font><\/p>\n

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We talk about going to church to worship God as though it’s an act we can schedule into a convenient slot on our planner.<\/font><\/p>\n

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I started thinking about moments of worship described in the Bible and how people responded. <\/span>Moses fell flat on his face when he saw God in the burning bush.  <\/span>Balaam shut up.  <\/span>Zachariah was afraid.  <\/span>Simeon, when handed baby Jesus, blessed God.  <\/span>Paul fell to the ground and was struck blind.<\/font><\/p>\n

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It doesn’t sound to me as though many of these people were jumping up and down with thanksgiving. <\/span>Not that giving thanks isn’t important.  <\/span>I love all the gratitude lists I’m seeing.  <\/span>I’ve broadened my perspective on so many days of life because of fantastic women who are truly learning to give thanks in all things.  <\/span>But this summer, I kept feeling that there is something more.<\/font><\/p>\n

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Maybe worship is more than the discipline of learning to be grateful.<\/font><\/p>\n

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Maybe worship is when my soul sees and responds to God.<\/font><\/p>\n

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I started thinking back to the moments when it felt as though I truly worshiped God.  <\/span>Not just read about Him.  <\/span>Not just talked to Him.  <\/span>The moments when I saw a glimpse of Him.  <\/span>Sometimes I gave thanks.  <\/span>Sometimes I cried.  <\/span>Sometimes I just felt dumbfounded at how big and good He really is.  <\/span>But always I walked away in awe of Him.  <\/span>It was like there was no room left for thoughts about how small I am in comparison.  <\/span>There was only room for God in my mind.  <\/span>I wish it could be like that always.  <\/span>And maybe it can?  <\/span>Is worship a discipline?  <\/span>Or only a response?  <\/span>I wish I knew that.<\/font><\/p>\n

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The more I thought about my friend’s story, the more I wondered, how much do I really worship God?  <\/span>Not asking (or begging).  <\/span>Not doing.  <\/span>Not being.  <\/span>Just recognizing His presence.<\/font><\/p>\n

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In June when the puppies were born and sold like popcorn kernels poured into hot oil, I put a few more pieces together.  <\/span>God knew way back in February (when David forgot to lock up Goldi for a an important week) that we would need money for a slew of unexpected doctor’s appointments.  <\/span>So he sent the neighbors’ nicest dog over to our house.  <\/span>Was that chance?  <\/span>I don’t think so.  <\/span>God doesn’t always align dates that conveniently, but I think this summer He knew that not only were we going to need some extra cash, I needed a 101 crash course on worship.  <\/span><\/font><\/p>\n

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I told David that it suddenly makes so much sense to me why it is easier to believe when you are thirty than when you are thirteen.  <\/span>When you are thirteen, you hear everyone else’s stories about God.  <\/span>You hear them say that God was there for them time and again.  <\/span>But you’re still waiting and watching.  <\/span>And sometimes falling through the cracks.  <\/span>You see God.  <\/span>Then you wait in the darkness.  <\/span>You feel as though your prayers are answered.  <\/span>You stand reeling and faithless at yet another shattered dream. <\/span>But after fifteen years, the picture begins to emerge.  <\/span>You no longer doubt God’s faithfulness because you have seen it for yourself. <\/span>You’ve seen the prayers that were answered.  <\/span>You’ve seen the unanswered prayers and the way God carried you through them.  <\/span>You’ve seen glimpses of His glory. You’ve been left in the darkness and learned that God is still there.<\/font><\/p>\n

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I can’t wait to see how much more I understand of God when I am sixty.  <\/span>This summer more than ever I have come to believe that, <\/font><\/p>\n

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Worship is recognizing God in the seemingly
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serendipitous happenings of my life.<\/font><\/p>\n

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But I’m still in my thirties.  <\/span>And I have not yet figured out how an uncharacteristically grouchy child and a garden with an overactive thyroid can coincide well with teaching VBS.<\/font><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

My eyes are burning from lack of sleep.  I’m pretty sure if I closed them I’d see red and green spots dancing from watching pizza sauce bubble on the stove… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-541","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p39ynQ-8J","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/541","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=541"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/541\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=541"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=541"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.michellebeachy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=541"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}