Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,
for in you my soul takes refuge;
in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge,
till the storms of destruction pass by.
I cry out to God Most High,
to God who fulfills his purpose for me.
He will send from heaven and save me;
he will put to shame him who tramples on me.
God will send out his steadfast love and his faithfulness!--Psalm 57:1-3
Psalm 148
This is a very vivid, descriptive passage of all creation praising its Maker. I get a delightful picture in my mind of fruit trees and majestic cedars lifting up praise to God in concert. In fact, I have this image of a giant worship service going on with birds flying around shout out praise to God, trees lifting their "hands," and even snakes standing up on their tails to praise God. Horses, cattle, coyotes, mountain lions, (lions, tigers, and bears, oh my?) all creation together praising God.
And yes, the psalmist even includes dignitaries, "important people."
God looks down on this scene with great pleasure. He smiles, perhaps even laughs at the site. Because, hey...it would be kind of funny-looking, don't you think?
But probably no more funny-looking than our feeble efforts to praise him on Sunday mornings. Here we go, in all of our imperfections, to church on Sunday morning. The kids are acting up, so we're frustrated. Or maybe something isn't working right. Having trouble getting out the door. Then, as the worship leader, maybe I forgot the jumpdrive that has the power point on it for the service. Or maybe (an this really happened once) I forgot to pack the power cord for the keyboard.
So we finally get there and we're either tired, flustered, or in some case, just flat angry. We snap at people who ask how we are...they mean well, but just happened to get us at the wrong time.
Then suddenly, a short time later, we are supposed to praise God. Worship him with "holy" hands. Lift up "holy" voices to him in worship. How holy do your hands feel on Sunday morning? My hands...don't feel so holy. I've used my voice to ridicule some poor person who was in the wrong place at the wrong time...or maybe I've just snapped at them. How holy is that?
How can God not laugh at our miserable efforts? But you know what? Our praises are lifted up to him like "sweet incense." Somehow, he manages to overlook all of the crap (sorry if that word offends...) that we have poured into our lives and sees the blood of Jesus, the spirit of his son, as we lift up these wretched hands and sing out with these abused voices. He sees our hearts. He sees that, in our hearts, we deeply desire fellowship with him. We deeply desire to be closer, more intimate with him. Sometimes we just can't help that we fall prey to the "stuff of earth." But for at least that brief hour or so on Sunday morning, we can forget about that; lay it at his feet. We apologize to that person we snapped at, and, miraculously, they didn't even notice it. But they forgive us anyway. Ministers' wives run home and grab the things that they forgot, and everything works out fine.
Everything works out fine because the purpose is high. It is the highest purpose that we engage in as human beings. The worship of Almighty God.
Wow. I'm not sure where all that came from...well, yes I am. It came from my heart.
And I guess the one character or attribute of God that I focus in on through all of this is his ability to (or willingness, perhaps) overlook all of our faults as we humbly attempt to worship him. He doesn't (or so I seem to think) scorn or laugh at us (at least not in a mean way) as we struggle through these things and lift our hands and voices to him. He graciously accepts our worship and somehow gives back to us a little more of himself. Because, face it...a little of God is probably all we can stand at one time.
Praise him! O, praise him! Every chance you get, praise him!
Grace and peace, y'all!