Worship

 At 13 I converted to an Evangelical Christian Church, which in Canada is actually a more conservative branch among Protestant Churches. This means that those who are brave enough might quietly clap their hands during a particularily upbeat worship song. Only the zealous will actually raise their hands, perhaps waist high - maybe even above their heads - while squinting their eyes, scrunching up their faces and furrowing their brows to indicate their "connectedness" to the worship song. In reality, this  is a confusing image if you think about it. 

Why must one distort their face (looking like you're in some state of discomfort) in order to show how hard you're worshiping? What does this symbolic gesture even mean, has it ever been explained to you and if so, do you ever wonder if this action is pleasing to God or has it become an arbitrary action that is done whenever you feel "pumped up" in a worship song.  This is not to say that there aren't sincere Christians that worship this way, but this outward display can sometimes come across as a rehearsed, self-directed  action that merely draws attention to oneself.  I am guilty of all of the above.  No one ever told me I should do this and if so why I might do this, but everyone else was certainly doing it, and I wanted to show that I too was a "Christian on fire for God".  This was one of the many strange cultural phenomenons I observed in many churches I had searched through.  They all had at least the following in common:

1) Powerpoint, Projectors, and Jumbotrons

2) A "Worship Team" lead by a guy that probably strives to look like this (note projector screen in the background):

3) Acoustic guitar strumming while crying out random thoughts like "we love to worship you Lord Jesus" or sing-talking the next verse in the song, often drawing out a 2 minute song into 10 minutes of repetitive personal worship time

4) And my personal favorite, the time at the end of service when the "worship team" is either called to stage or sneaks on while our heads are bowed for the final prayer and they begin slowly strumming and humming in the background, evoking a supposedly powerful atmosphere for prayer.

I think it was about the time when the light show in my church had begun and a chipper young toothy lady came up to the stage exclaiming that we should have a dance party for Jesus, that I began to long for something a little less rehearsed.  I'm not the first angsty youth to reject this culture of seemingly shallow worship and I won't be the last.  I contrast this image against the Orthodox views on worship, of monks and nuns standing in all night vigils, silently and modestly offering the same prayers to God that were given by the Apostles and their disciples.  The thing that struck me most about Orthodox worship is that everything had meaning and that this meaning wasn't just arbitrary, it was rooted in the bible and the Church of the first Christians. 

This day have I begotten thee

All the while that I was "seeking God", I came to realize that it was God who had actually done the seeking.  Seeking God implies that He wasn't there while I was trying to figure out who God was.

How great was His patience with me.

He knew my weaknesses, my pride and He knew the pace and path that I should take to come to the fullness of His Truth.  Glory to God for all things.

I come from parents that wouldn't define themselves as Christian, nor would they define themselves as non-Christians.  I was raised by liberal, non-practicing Catholics (doesn't that seem like a bit of an oxymoron?) that believed in tolerance of all things, "spirituality" and that salvation was gained by being a good person.  I converted to Protestantism as a preteen after a brief experimentation with Atheism, Wicca and all sorts of other "spiritual" religions.  Still, my soul was still not at rest.  My spirit had been awakened and I was no longer satisfied with the easy answers that were being given to me.  I wanted sincerity, the hard, honest truth and most of all I wanted to feel the Grace of God.  My unworthy prayers were heard, and in His Great Mercy, God had lead me to Orthodoxy.  I can only describe that discovery as the filling of my heart and a great exhale from my soul - as if I had been holding my breath for 26 years.

I most definitely am not an English major or a graduate of theology and I don't have any fancy qualifications that will ensure the quality of this blog (please don't grammar/spell check me and if you do I will only blame it on the failings of my generation!).  These are just my sincere observations on what it means to be a Christian, a true follower of Christ, while wallowing in the toxic and morally declining environment that is our Western culture.