worship

I think I worshiped God "in spirit and in truth" for the first time yesterday ... on accident ... in my car. Maybe it was the first time I really worshiped at all. Maybe not. Maybe it was a new depth of worship. Whatever it was I didn't expect it.

Yesterday was not my best day. It wasn't even my best Monday. I sat in my car for 10 minutes during lunch and cried. Not my shining moment.

After work I sat in my car outside our apartment. My keys are missing. I think I left them at church, but either way I couldn't get in at 5:16 yesterday when I got home. I sat in the parking lot and waited for Timothy, reclined the driver's seat, and skipped the CD to a slow track.

She started to sing, very quietly, with nothing but a piano. I want to play the strings of Your heart, God, come play the strings of mine. I want to sing straight to Your heart, God, come sing straight to mine.

My goal was not to encounter God in that moment. I did not even intend to "worship," as with singing and the lifting of hands, and I knew the next lines were a declaration of God's ownership of her heart.

And I couldn't relate. I have that problem with a lot of Misty's lyrics. Does He really have my heart, or is it just a nice song I sing? Does He really have my heart, or is it what I'm supposed to say when, really, I give parts of my heart to other things first?

As the song swelled she started to sing again and I sang along almost habitually. You have my heart. Lord, You have my heart. Lord, You have my heart, and I am searching for Yours.

As Condemnation began to whisper about what a liar I was, I gently remembered that my God "gives life to the dead and calls those things which do not exist as though they did," and I sang the rest of the song as a prayer - calling to life the passion, obedience, and desire that lay dead within me.

I'm so in love with You.

I didn't have to try to stuff down memories of the bad day I'd had. I didn't have to strain to temporarily forget the problems I'm facing. I didn't have to concentrate on exalting the name of Jesus above my circumstances because my circumstances were not even an issue.

This moment - this random moment, reclined in the driver's seat of my car - was about aligning my heart with the heart of God. It was about setting my steps to the rhythm of His pulse, chasing the vision reflected in His eyes. Somehow everything else just faded away

like I think it's always supposed to.