A few chilled nights ago, I sat on my bed, my legs crossed over one another, chord sheets strewn around the room, my notebook flung open, and my brow furrowed in concentration and worry. I had make a discovery. The notebook was filled with attempted worship songs I had secretly and affectionately written. I am always hesitant to show them to people; they sound more and more to me like words just tumbling clumsily over each other, the words not wanting people to see the meaning and emotions that they were created to exhibit. However, to my soul, the words are my prayers, desperate ones, ones crying out to Christ wondering why He feels so far away and words longing for comfort in His arms.
As I was looking more deeply into the meanings of my chicken scratch on the scraps of paper that seemed to be so personal to me and my love relationship with Christ, I was finding how self-centered I really am. Sure, it is essential to the deepening of our affection to Christ to spill our hearts open to Him, telling Him of all our wants and desires, of how we need Him to work in our lives and begging Him to reveal a drop His refreshing Spirit to our quenched souls. The thing all of my songs are missing is just a spirit of reverence, trembling in the pure awe and majesty of who God is. WHO GOD IS. All God longs for is our hearts, including the sweet aroma of praise that is so worthy of Him. How often do we just skip over the dumbfounding and complete elegance of the complexities of what Christ has done for us and go straight to our own needs. Even if we do address this to Him, how many times do we go straight to our desires, giving not the nearly the time of day that our God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob deserves. He is the God who has been there for me my whole life, never letting me down and giving me the longed desires of my heart.
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