Afternoon Tea: Worship

I'm not sipping tea, nor is it the afternoon, but I am inspired to blog tonight, and I gave up long ago sticking to the logistics of the name of this series. Anyway, here are my all-over-the-place thoughts for tonight:

'Apathy makes the dead out of the living. Created in God's image, He means for us to have passion for people, zeal for life, and a calling to righteous causes...'

-Beth Moore

Can I get an amen??

We are made to worship God. Everything about us is designed to glorify His name. His goodness is meant to flow from our lives just as fruit is grown from a tree. There is not any single part of our minds, bodies, or souls that is wasted on Him, because even when we prove faithless, He is able to do far more than anything that we could ask or imagine. He may not turn His back when we fall into apathy, but He does mean more for us. He has in store passion, zeal, and the intention to set our souls on fire with His glory.

I used to hate dancing.

Though I do have some suspicions about why that previously was true, I'm not completely sure why I resisted it so much, and I don't mean that I used to find middle school dances the most awkward (and rather inappropriate) 'social' events that ever did exist (though that was most certainly true, too). I'm talking graceful dancing. The kind that's beautiful. The sort that Daddies pull their daughters out onto the dance floor to do or the type that a groom holds his bride close during.

Part of me would internally freak out because I felt as if the pressure of every single pair of eyes in the room was boring deep into every crevice of my soul during the entire song. A different part of me would be afraid of all of the 'what-ifs?' What if I tripped? What if I stepped on the other person's feet? What if this or that or every kind of excuse under the sun happened? Did I care if I was stepping on a guys pride? Did it matter if I was taking away a sweet moment from my Dad, or my uncle, or my stepdad, or anyone else that is of beyond-great importance to my life?

It mattered-the love was there-but my fear mattered more. Selfishness would overcome me and I would embarrassingly, awkwardly, and sometimes even tearfully (I was a sensitive kid growing up...something that makes me laugh now when looking back at often the ridiculousness of the reason for the tears) decline the invitation.

I've met people who refuse to sing. I've interacted with those who hate community. There are people who refuse to invest in the lives of others because it means actually caring, which often requires that you open up your heart, too.

The truth is, to dance is to be vulnerable. The same is true of singing. Conceptually, all of the examples of caring, communing, and investing are all similar. The same is true of speaking and hugging and loving and praying and acting in faith, and that is how I'd purely define worship: acting in faith. Every word spoken and action performed should be by the Spirit and in faith, because when we intentionally walk by faith, we are intentionally worshipping God.

He uses every bit of us to glorify Him. Even in the darkness, He is glorified because His light is made much of. His potential to bring us up out of the ashes exists and is real and there, and even in the pits of despair our broken selves are making much of Him. Nothing we do or say diminishes His love. If we live complacently and choose silent comfortableness and perfect facades that create bubbles around us, He won't love us less. He won't go away. He won't cease to exist or be any less beautiful. You know what, though? An emotionless relationship holds no draw for me at all. God yearns for us. He desires for us to live for Him. He delights for us to be sold-out slaves of righteousness. He does not call us to live in fear, anger, or complacency. He has not created us to be depressed, isolated, or dull. He has made us to be stunningly glorious because He has created us to be like Him. God wants us-and that should excite us, that someone so beautiful would choose to lavish His love on us, calling us children of God!

Here's a truth for you today: if faith can move the mountains-and all it takes is that of a mustard seed-then by golly we should have faith. We should live with the expectation that God will do great things, because He is for us! He is only for our good. Not only is He great, but He is good.

['If faith can move the mountains, let the mountains move. We come with expectation, waiting here for you...'-Christy Nockels]

The shell of fear that surrounded my heart broke whenever I went to prom my senior year, which I find ironic because I used to absolutely loathe school dances. Even the mere thought all of the occurrences that followed once the lights began to dim would made my stomach churn. Go out to eat? All for it! Taking a night to slather on every bit of makeup I owned? Okay! Giggling incessantly while taking ridiculous pictures with my five best friends? I live for moments like those, but the other moments that required being vulnerable around everyone else? Absolutely cross-my-arms-over-my-chest not.

The moment came, as it always did, at the end of the night when the DJ began to play that funky music and all of us white kids started flailing our arms wildly as only preppy private-school kids know how to do (minus the kids who actually took dance lessons, but they basically had been practicing their choreography for months leading up to the night I'm sure). One of my best friends had asked me to prom that year, which of course led to us having one of the best nights of my high school career, and as he danced and flailed his lanky limbs toward me, my mental red flag went up and I started to turn the other way. As he grabbed my wrist, I turned back. Music blaring, he shouted above it all:

'Come on! You're not getting out of it this time-you're dancing!'

'I haven't gone to the ice cream bar yet!'

'Are you serious?! We'll get it later!'

We had a moment of hesitation. I almost didn't go. Every flesh-urge in me was screaming at me to run, to go, to find a safe place. Then, four of my other dear friends bounced their way over, arms waving and hands gesturing. If it were us five alone at one of our houses, I'd dance the night away. I'd yell and sing along and be crazy and not care who was watching. In that moment though, I didn't want to miss out, and on top of that, I didn't want to rob them of a sweet moment from senior year. So I went.

And let me tell you, I have never had so much fun in my life.

It might've been awkward-at first. It might've taken some vulnerability. It may have meant stepping out in faith and asking God to do the rest. I might've had to set pride aside and take slow, baby steps that eventually resulted in high, pumped-up bounces, but it was worth it.

My sweet friend that gave the invitation to dance probably doesn't even remember that particular moment. He was a simple vessel that God used to rock my world and take me into deeper waters to make my faith stronger. It altered my perspective forever, though, and I have never approached dances the same. I remember a Taylor Swift song was playing, and as we all shouted at the top of our lungs, I looked around and took in every single face. As I made eye contact with everyone in our circle of dancing ridiculousness, I knew that there was no other place I would rather be than right there, and even though I didn't realize it until late that night as I laid wide awake staring up at my ceiling, a breakthrough happened. I had chosen to dance, and I knew that I could never refuse to do it again. In that context, being vulnerable meant being silly, and it meant being bold, but in being bold I learned a great lesson: there's power in looking silly and not caring that you do. It took calling upon love to cast out fear. It took knowing that even if people laughed or threw weird glances or talked about my reputation negatively for years to come-I would be okay, because in all things, I am more than a conqueror not because of anything but that I am living life with Jesus Christ.

When it comes to faith, living boldly is the only way to be. Whether the form of boldness is in peace or in zeal, it is still bold. Being passionate for the Gospel is beyond beautiful, because it shows a real confidence in the One who holds our identities. Our worship is meant to take form in our faith, which is shown in our words and actions, performed not out of obligation or legalism but out of love and expectation that God is faithful, and He is the One we adore, for He is good. He brings us life, and that is something to dance about. We should sing His story from the mountaintops.

I love love love Audrey Hepburn movies. For one, they're classics, and who doesn't love those? For another, most of them take place in France [cue the yearning of my soul that loves to travel...]. The plots are cute and feel-good, and they're often musical and just seem to lift my spirits. My favorite aspect of them all? Audrey. She's charming, witty, truly comical, and oh-so-talented, but above all, she is fearless. She rocks bold bangs, chops off all of her hair for a pixie-cut, dons gigantic dresses, and performs many 'firsts' for movies back in the day. She wasn't perfect, and I've read that she actually did struggle with some perceptional insecurity (don't we all?), but on screen, at least, she is bold. She's daring and inspirational and quirky-and it's great. She's herself and she doesn't care who knows it.

If we claim to be followers of Jesus, then shouldn't we be bold in that claim? We have a hope worth being bold about. To live any other way is a waste of a name-claim.

Nobody's perfect, and we all have our moments of fear and insecurity, but the beauty still is in the glorification of God through our fears, because without fear, His love would not have anything to cast out. Without shame, His grace would not be needed. Without apathy, zeal would not shine so bright.

What is your fear today? I promise you that His love is bigger, better, and so worth it. Maybe it's not actually dancing or singing, but maybe it is. Perhaps it's just the choices that happen every day-those moments when you are forced to decide to act in faith or in fear. I have found that our whole lives are a dance and our whole way of living a song, and whether we are in tune or in step depends on who we are dancing or singing with-ourselves or our God. Acting in faith means taking risks. It means getting real and living the messy and opening up your heart to the unknown.

It's how we are meant to be.