five-minute friday: worship


This is part of the brave: doing things I wouldn't normally do because of some prejudice (or insecurity) I have about bandwagon-ing. Whatever, I am doing it. So this week, I linked up with Lisa-Jo Baker via the (in)courage blog to do a timed free-write on a specific word prompt: worship. sarah writes | five-minute friday: worshipI am having to encounter worship and the God of it in ways I wasn’t entirely anticipating. It’s like my whole world is being re-defined in a matter of days (or minutes, but probably neither) and I don’t know how to move about in it. I’m having to get comfortable in my skin all over again and the worship I knew once doesn’t fit. Not that it never will again, but the minutes and hours of quiet and stillness seem to be over for now. How do I grab it in snatches? How do I know what in my days to call worship when worship as I’ve known it has moved along?

Maybe it’s in the sitting back and reflecting later. Because I sure don’t identify it in the moments.  But if I arise each morning and whisper God, accept these tasks and toils as unto You, perhaps He’ll show me? Maybe He’ll make me aware anew of the mystery of my worship to Him in this season of diapers and yogurt-face and picking up the same mess every day?

Maybe for now, worship is in the things I never thought and it’s going to be me asking for awareness in order to see it and know it. If this is going to be true, God in my heart and life and the quiet and the noise and the clutter and the whining little lady at my knees…make me know! Make me sense and cling to what is worship in this time of my life, that I wouldn’t abandon the ideals, but grasp a new and bigger, without-borders picture of the worship in my days. The orienting of my heart and home around the You.

Perhaps, then, worship is in the scratching of a new verse onto the chalk wall. The singing ‘Jesus Loves Me’ with little lamb plushies. Holding hands and putting sparkly shoes on little feet and talking with that happy baby. Maybe my worship can be emailing a friend about my heart and hopes for adoption and birth parent salvation. Or taking photos for another friend or doing chores when I don’t want to or making time to be romantic and to dream with my husband.

Maybe worship will mean just the ongoing outpouring of my life…this will be my sacrifice of praise for now. My season of giving. My life, poured out as a drink offering. My worship.



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