What you must solemnly realize is that every time you eat this bread and every time you drink this cup, you reenact in your words and actions the death of the Master. You will be drawn back to this meal again and again until the Master returns. You must never let familiarity breed contempt. [1 Corinthians 11:25-26 (MSG)]
I admit to having left some church services feeling like I just “mailed it in” and that’s not the way to worship our wonderful glorious God. It’s been said that familiarity breeds contempt. In the case of familiar gospels, epistles, songs and liturgy, while familiarity may not breed contempt it may breed boredom. We’ve listened to the Benediction, Consecration or Absolution so often that we don’t even hear them and we’ve said the Lord’s Prayer, recited the Apostle’s Creed, or sung certain hymns so many times that the words exit our mouths without needing to pass through our hearts or minds.
When I studied theater, my instructors spoke about the “illusion of the first time.” Although the lines had been memorized, rehearsed and performed countless times, the audience was to feel that the actors were saying and hearing those words for the very first time. I’ve watched a young man at our mountain church who always sits in the front row. New to Christ, he worships with fervor and joy. Of course, it really may be the first time he’s heard that verse or sung that song. For those of us who may have heard, said and sung the same words thousands of times, sometimes it’s harder to stir up that sort of passion in our church experience. Perhaps we need to think about recreating that “illusion of the first time” during services so that our worship is as passionate today as it was when we first knew our Lord.
Knowing we have little choice over the service itself, how do we reignite the passion in our worship? Just like good acting, it takes a fair amount of effort and begins with our mindset before the show begins. Instead of getting into the inner workings of our character, we need to set our hearts and minds on God before the service starts. Most of us, upon settling into our seats, probably peruse the program, visit with our neighbors, or check out the attire and hairdos of our fellow worshipers. Although I was taught to pray as soon as I sat down, I often don’t (nor do the people around me). But, when I start with a prayer of thanksgiving for the opportunity to be at church and then ask God to clear my mind of the day’s concerns and open me to His presence, my worship is more enthusiastic and meaningful. Instead of chatting or checking our email before service, perhaps we should prepare the way of the Lord with prayer and by reading the words of the day’s hymns, part of the day’s liturgy, or a few Psalms from the Bible.
The audience is cheated when an actor just walks through his role and God is cheated when we wearily listen to or repeat words rather than putting our heart into His worship. Every time we worship Him, He should experience the “illusion of the first time.” To do that, we must listen, speak and sing with such passion, excitement and joy that it seems as if it is the first time we’ve ever heard, said or sung those words! The more we give Him, the more we’ll get from our worship!
Back in 1964, it was the slaying of Kitty Genovese in New York City. For thirty-five minutes, at least 38 people watched a killer stalk and murder her. Twice the attacker was frightened off by lights or voices but, when the police didn’t arrive and no one came to the woman’s aid, her assailant returned to continue his vicious attack. Apparently, the only call to the police was made after the woman was dead.
I watched the snowy egret at the beach and couldn’t quite decide if he was an exceptionally smart bird, just plain lazy, or a little of both. Egrets are excellent fishermen and will wade in the shallows stirring up the water with their feet to flush out delicacies like fish, frogs, and crayfish. Other times, they exhibit great patience as they stand nearly immobile for several minutes just waiting for their prey to come near enough for them to strike and catch dinner.
I have a love-hate relationship with my camera and its autofocus. An enormous golden silk spider hangs over the boardwalk we take through the mangroves to the beach. Officially the Nephila clavipes, the female of this species is the largest non-tarantula-like spider in North America. This impressive arachnid has spun her giant orb-like web high above the walkway. She often scares tourists when they glance up to see her suspended above their heads. While I managed to get a shot that of spider, I’d hoped to get a few more of others that have spun their webs down closer to the boardwalk. Autofocus, however, was my enemy. Because their webs were nestled in the trees, the camera looked right through the spiders and focused on the large branches and leaves behind them. My camera focused only on the spider when nothing was behind the creature, but it had plenty on which to focus when pointed at the spiders in the mangroves. The ease of having a small point-and-shoot camera that is so easy to use keeps me loving (but occasionally hating) it.
An illustration of a man stooped over with an enormous sack on his back adorned the cover of the church program. The man had a troubled look on his face as if thinking, “I’ve got this all this, now what I am supposed to do with it?” The words “Life does not consist in the abundance of possessions,” were superimposed over the picture.
