Tag Archives: Holy

What Indiana Jones Taught Me About Holiness

What Indiana Jones Taught Me About Holiness (CaD 1 Sam 6) Wayfarer

But God struck down some of the inhabitants of Beth Shemesh, putting seventy of them to death because they looked into the ark of the Lord. The people mourned because of the heavy blow the Lord had dealt them.
1 Samuel 6:19

Raiders of the Lost Ark is one of those movies I associate with my youth. It premiered in my Freshman year of high school and it became one of the biggest blockbusters of that era. It was also during this same era that the advent of the Video Cassette Recorders (VCR) allowed for renting and buying a movie to be watched over and over again at home. I have no idea how many times I’ve seen Raiders of the Lost Ark, but it’s a lot.

There is a great scene towards the climactic end of the movie in which the villain archaeologist, Belloq, dresses like a Hebrew high priest to open the Ark of the Covenant and peer inside. He is surrounded by Nazis filming and witnessing the event while Indy and Marian are tied up a short distance away. There’s a moment at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark that is a brilliant piece of writing and filmmaking. It takes the audience on a roller coast ride of emotions from disappointment to wonder to horror and it ends with awe.

One of the things that I always loved about Raiders of the Lost Ark is that it is rooted in events from the Great Story like the events in today’s chapter. “Didn’t you guys ever go to Sunday School?” Indy asks the government officials who come to him asking about the Ark.

The Philistines, despite moving the Ark around to different towns had experienced an ongoing outbreak of a plague of “tumors” since they took the Ark captive at the battle of Ebenezer. Scholars over the years have proposed that either both bubonic plague or bacillary dysentery could be the culprits as they could easily have been carried by rodents on ships from other regions. The Philistines were coastal people heavily involved in sea trade.

The Philistines return the Ark with a guilt offering to the Hebrews at the border town of Beth Shemesh which happened to be one of the Levitical towns, one of the towns scattered through all the Hebrew tribes where Levites would be living among them. According to the Law of Moses, only Levites would be allowed to handle or move the Ark.

While the Ark is in Beth Shemesh, curiosity gets the better of some of the residents who take the opportunity to peek inside. The chapter says they died, though the specifics are not recorded so we have no idea whether Hollywood pyrotechnics were involved.

This string of Ark stories is fascinating because of the attitudes of the human beings in each scene. Last week I observed that the corrupt priests and Hebrews treated the Ark like a good luck charm, and God remained silent, allowing them to be defeated, the ark taken captive. Then the Philistines treated the Ark as the trophy of a defeated God. The result was the destruction of their idol and an outbreak of plague. In today’s chapter, the residents of Beth Shemesh treat the Ark as an object of trivial curiosity and meet with similarly disastrous ends.

At the end of today’s chapter, the residents of Beth Shemesh observe, “Who can stand in the presence of the LORD, this holy God?” The Hebrew word for holy is qādôš and its meaning is a fascinating subject of study. When Moses stood before the burning bush God told him to take off his sandals because he was standing on holy ground. The Ark was to be kept in the “Most Holy Place” in the Tabernacle and only the High Priest was to enter its presence once a year because it was holy. Holiness is often thought of in our culture as simple moral purity, but it’s so much more than that. I love that the makers of Raiders of the Lost Ark seem to have captured it. Even Indy, who must have learned something in Sunday School, knows to close his eyes and tell Marian to do the same. They can’t look. It’s holy. They, like we the audience, get to the end of the scene with an overwhelming sense of awe and wonder. That’s qādôš.

In a bit of synchronicity this morning, the devotional that Wendy and I read at breakfast each morning spoke of Rudoph Otto’s description of “holy.” It sounds like spells from Harry Potter’s world. He says that that which is “holy” is a paradoxical experience of the opposites mysterium tremendum (scary mystery) and mysterium fascinosum (alluring, fascinating, seductive mystery). Otto argued that if you don’t have both you don’t have the true or full experience of the Holy.

The problem with both the Hebrews and the Philistines in the opening chapters of 1 Samuel is that they arguably had neither as it related to God and the Ark of the Covenant. At best, they had the latter and not the former.

In the quiet this morning, I enter another day and another work week as a follower of Jesus endeavoring to think and speak and act with regard for the fullness of His mysterium tremendum and mysterium faschinosum.

Note: A new message from 7/31/22 was added to the Messages page. CLICK HERE

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Holy Moment

Holy Moment (CaD Psalm 145.2) Wayfarer

[Note: I know I did Psalm 145 yesterday, but it became obvious to me this morning that I needed to spend some more time in it. So, consider this a blogging BOGO from me to you! :-)]

The eyes of all look to you,
    and you give them their food at the proper time.

Psalm 145:15 (NIV)

He was weeping over the phone. Across the miles, on the other end of the connection, I knew that this moment was qadosh, a holy moment. It was holy, not because of any kind of religious piety or righteous achievement, but because of the depth of its suffering.

Along my life journey I’ve observed that religion has done a number on our concept of holiness. The institutional church has, as it always does, warped holiness into some kind of religious merit badge, a litmus test of morality, a trophy for those religious over-achievers at the top of the Sunday School class. In doing so, religion profanes the fullness of holiness.

Holiness is woven into creation unbound by church membership or religious ritual. Holiness is an encounter with the divine in the human experience. Holiness is not limited to the transcendental, spiritual glory of Jesus’ transfiguration. The emotional, physical, mental, and spiritual agony of his unjust, illegal, blood-drenched execution was a holy moment, as well.

That’s how I recognized the holy moment as my friend wept from the darkness of his own personal pit. He was joining the ranks of many who have gone before him. He was the woman kneeling naked and ashamed in front of the Son of God as her adultery lay publicly exposed. He was the prodigal covered in pig shit and eating the slop of his own choices. He was the wanton woman knelt down before Jesus as her tears wash the feet of the One she fully expects to condemn him like everyone else is in his life seems to be doing. He was me, 20 years ago, as I wept alone in the darkness of a warehouse apartment crying out over the shattered pieces of my life.

I knew this was a holy moment because I had been there myself. This was a holy moment because every human and religious pretense had been stripped away. He was, in that moment, spiritually naked and empty. He had reached a point when he could no longer play the game. This was his breaking point before the One who redeems, recreates, and uses broken things; The Potter who takes the lump of collapsed clay spinning on His wheel and begins to make something new. Whether my friend recognized it, or not, this was the waypoint on his journey that is the inflection point when old things begin to recede in the rearview mirror, and he will find a light on the horizon leading him in a new direction.

Today’s chapter, Psalm 145, begins the last five songs in this 150 song anthology of ancient Hebrew song lyrics. The editors end their compilation with five songs of praise. Today’s is a beautiful description of God’s goodness and I could have picked out any number of verses to chew on, but it was the phrase “you give them their food at the proper time” that resonated deep in my soul.

Remember that God’s base language is metaphor, and metaphors are layered with meaning. Make no mistake, food is food, as in the miraculous Manna that God provided the Hebrew tribes on their wilderness wanderings and the loaves and fish Jesus turned into an all-you-can-eat, filet-o-fish-o-rama. It’s also that which is necessary for spiritual survival and sustenance, as Jesus reminded the Enemy after fasting for forty days: “You can’t just eat physical bread. You need the spiritual bread of the Word.”

From there the metaphor expands to even more layers of meaning:

“In the beginning was the Word…”

“I am the Bread of Life…”

“He took a loaf and broke it, saying, ‘This is my body, broken for you.'”

“I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats this bread will live forever. This bread is my flesh, which I will give for the life of the world.”

Along my spiritual journey, I’ve experienced God’s provision of “food” at the “proper time” on both the physical and spiritual level. I remember being married with two small children, my first mortgage, no job, and no idea what was going to happen next. There have been moments when clients unexpectedly pulled the plug on projects, and I wasn’t sure how we would pay the bills. Then there was that lonely night in the dark warehouse apartment when every religious facade I had mistaken for being an actual spiritual resource had been revealed to be impotent, and my soul was starving for a scrap of real spiritual nourishment.

I had religiously participated in the ritual of Communion countless times in my life, yet that moment was the first time I truly tasted the Bread of Life. It was a holy moment. It was qadosh.

In the quiet this morning, I’m praying for my friend who was on the other end of that call. He’s got a long, long road ahead of him. I did my best to assure him that if he relies on the Bread of Life to sustain him, and he doggedly presses on, one-day-at-a-time, towards that Light on the horizon, he will find himself in amazing places. He may find himself in a deep place, but grace is deeper still. He may despair in the moment at the waste he’d made of his life, but God may transform it into wisdom.

I’ve been there.

In the moment all he could see was the unholy ruins of his life.

Little did he know, it was the holy start of a new creation.

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”
Revelation 21:5 (NIV)


As always, if you know anyone who might be encouraged with today’s post, please feel free to share.


Holy Moments in the Dark

Holy Moments in Dark Places (CaD Ps 106) Wayfarer

Save us, Lord our God,
    and gather us from the nations,
that we may give thanks to your holy name
    and glory in your praise.

Psalm 106:47 (NIV)

Yesterday, Wendy and I found ourselves discussing the concept of holiness as we enjoyed our weekly date at the local pub for pizza and a pint. It kind of picked up on what I discussed in my blog post a few weeks ago. In my experience, the concept of being “holy” has largely been reduced by the institutional church to mean “morally pure.” In my spiritual journey, I’ve come to understand that it means so much more than that.

Our conversation sprung out a friend sharing with us about a loved one who finds themselves in one of life’s dark valleys. Wendy and I both identified with the story because both of our journeys include stretches in dark places of our own choices and consequences. Much like our friend’s loved one, the respective dark valleys on life’s road were not characterized by any kind of moral purity.

Go to any twelve-step meeting and you’ll hear people tell their own stories about dark valleys on life’s road. You’ll also hear them share that sometimes one must hit rock-bottom before they spiritually wake up to the consequences of their actions and their need to change.

In Jesus’ famous story of the Prodigal Son, the younger brother finds himself far from home, broke, alone, and literally wading in pig shit. In that rock-bottom moment Jesus shared:

“That brought him to his senses. He said, ‘All those farmhands working for my father sit down to three meals a day, and here I am starving to death. I’m going back to my father. I’ll say to him, Father, I’ve sinned against God, I’ve sinned before you; I don’t deserve to be called your son. Take me on as a hired hand.’ He got right up and went home to his father.

Wendy and I discussed that this very moment, in the midst of the dark valley, at rock-bottom, and knee-deep in pig shit, was a holy moment. That’s the way the spiritual journey often works. Holiness is not confined to the definition of moral purity found at the mountain-top of righteousness. Holiness can also be found in the spiritual awakening that often happens not at the summit of morality but in the muck of a shattered life.

Today’s chapter, Psalm 106, is the final song in Book IV of the anthology of Hebrew song lyrics we know as the Psalms. It is another summary review of the history of the Hebrews. As the song comes to its conclusion, the songwriter pens:

Save us, Lord our God,
    and gather us from the nations

This would indicate that this song was likely written from a place of exile when the Hebrew tribes had been scattered across the Assyrian and Babylonian empires. What’s different in this re-telling of the history compared to the one I just read last week is the heart of repentance. The songwriter finds himself far from home, broken, living amidst his enemies and he recognizes that this dark valley was part of the consequence of his peoples own poor choices. Like the Prodigal, like Wendy and me, the songwriter is having his own holy moment of spiritual awakening. He’s owning his part (and the part of his people) in landing himself in this dark valley. He’s making the spiritual turn.

In the quiet this morning I find myself thinking about my own journey which includes holy moments that occurred both on spiritual mountain tops and sinful, dark valleys. King David wrote in another song (we haven’t gotten to it yet) that there’s nowhere that he could flee from God’s presence. Even in my lowest, darkest moments, God was not absent. It was there He helped awaken my spirit to my need to change the spiritual trajectory of my life.

It was a holy moment.

That’s Qadosh

That's Qadosh (CaD Ps 99) Wayfarer

Exalt the Lord our God and worship at his holy mountain, for the Lord our God is holy.
Psalm 99:9 (NIV)

While being in quarantine has frustrated my extroverted need for interpersonal interaction over the past ten days, I have also been mindful each day to appreciate the opportunity it has afforded Wendy and me to spend lots of time with our grandson, Milo, who normally resides across the pond in Scotland. Yesterday, my exercise monitor informed me that I’d set a new personal record for exercise in one day. If you’re having a hard time getting into that New Year’s workout routine, I suggest finding someone to loan you their three-year-old for a few days.

One of the more endearing developments during our extended time together has been Milo’s desire to go to sleep at night in Papa and Yaya’s bed. Last night, Wendy and I climbed onto the bed with Milo between us. We read three books together, then turned out the light. We sang softly in the darkness. Wendy reached over Milo and held my hand as we lay and sang with Milo nestled between us. Even with my hearing impairment, I could hear Milo’s deep breaths as he drifted to sleep. We then whispered a prayer over him before slipping out of the room.

That, my friend, was a special moment. I wanted to just stay in that moment forever. If only I could bottle it up and hold onto it. I immediately knew that it was a memory I will remember and cherish always.

Today’s chapter, Psalm 99, continues in this section of ancient Hebrew praise songs. They were likely used for liturgical purposes to call the Hebrews to worship in the temple. The lyricist of Psalm 99 layered this call to praise with metaphorical meaning that casual readers in English would never pick up.

Remember in yesterday’s post/podcast I shared that “everything is connected?” The Hebrews found spiritual connections with numbers. Each number had meaning. Seven was a number that meant “completeness.” Three was a number spiritually connected to the divine. There are three stanzas, each with four verses (4+3=7). Seven times the songwriter uses the Hebrew name of God, Yahweh. Seven times he uses Hebrew independent personal pronouns. Three times he refers to God as “holy” (Hebrew: qadosh).

I confess that “holy” is a word, and a spiritual concept, that I failed to fully understand, or flat out got wrong, for most of my journey. The concept of holiness as communicated by the institutional churches I’ve been involved in my whole life made holiness out to be simple moral purity in the utmost sense. The equation was “no sin” plus “going to church” equaled “holiness” (x + y = z). Which meant that holiness, unless you were Mother Theresa, was pretty much unattainable.

I have come to understand, however, that qadosh has a much larger meaning. There are moments in life in which everyone in the room knows there is something meaningful, something special, something larger that is happening in the moment.

Our daughter, Taylor, has an audiotape of the moment she entered the world in the delivery room. You hear her squeaky cries. You hear Dr. Shaw announce it‘s a girl. You hear me talking to her on the warming table. That moment is qadosh.

Last October I stood with our daughter, Madison, in a courtyard. We watched the congregation stand and turn toward us. The beautiful bride, whom I taught to walk, I now walked down the aisle to “give her away” to the man she loves. People smiled and wept. That moment was qadosh.

I sat in the dark room of the nursing home as my grandmother’s life ebbed away with each strained breath. Through the wee hours I kept watch over her. I held her hand. I sang her favorite hymn. I read the final chapter of the Great Story to her and I realized in the moment that it was like reading a travel brochure for the trip she was about to take. That moment was qadosh.

Last night as Wendy and I held hands and hovered over our peaceful, sleeping grandson lying in our bed. We sang. We prayed blessings over him. It was a holy moment. That’s qadosh.

Throughout the Great Story, when God made a special appearance (theologians call that a theophany) the person to whom God appears is mesmerized, speechless, dumbfounded, or overwhelmed. To be in the presence of God, described by lyricist of Psalm 99 as the royal King of Kings. That moment is qadosh.

When the psalmist calls me to worship, he’s not religiously demanding that I dutifully “go to church” in an effort to attain some pinnacle of moral purity. In fact, when I meditate on the fullness of all the qadosh moments I’ve recalled, then all my old notions of what it means to be “holy” are silly in their triteness. The psalmist is calling me into the mysterious, beautiful, meaningful moment of qadosh.

The Flow and Right Timing

If you bow low in God’s awesome presence, he will eventually exalt you as you leave the timing in his hands.
1 Peter 5:6 (TPT)

Along my life journey, I have come to experience what many others have described as “the flow.” Artists and creatives experience the flow as a spiritual, level four energy that empowers their creativity. As U2’s Bono discovered, “the songs are already written.” Athletes call it being “the zone” when the flow takes over and the ball slows down, they know what will happen before it happens, and their game elevates to an unprecedented level. Teachers and prophets experience the flow in both preparation and presentation. Rob Bell describes the flow when he experiences having a thought, a story, a metaphor, or an idea that “wants to be part of something” but he doesn’t know what it is. He records it, hangs on to it, and waits for the right time (which could be years later).

I remember experiencing the flow early in 2004. I just knew that I was supposed to do this thing, but exactly what it was and what it looked like was undefined. It was only a general notion, but I knew it at the core of my spirit. I even remember reaching after it but getting nowhere. Over time this thing I was supposed to do continued to reveal itself like little bread crumbs. Something would happen and I would think, “This is it! It’s falling into place.” But then, it wouldn’t.

That’s the frustrating thing about walking this earthly journey through finite time (as opposed to timeless eternity). We often find ourselves waiting, seeking, and longing for the right time or the right season for things. Wendy can tell you that I’m not always the most patient person when it comes to waiting. As an Enneagram Type Four, I tend to get pessimistic and overly dramatize my impatience and frustration. That’s when my Type Eight wife has no problem telling me directly what I know is true: the time just isn’t right.

In a bit of synchronicity that I honestly didn’t plan, the chapter today was the same text that I talked about in last week’s podcast, and the same text I taught on this past Sunday morning. That’s another thing that I have discovered along life’s journey. When the same thing keeps coming up in random ways, then there’s something God’s Spirit is trying to teach me in the flow. I should pay attention, meditate on it, and wait for it to be revealed.

The thing I was supposed to do eventually did reveal itself after about ten years. When it finally did fall into place it was at just the right time in a myriad of ways I won’t take the time to explain.

The ancient words for God’s “Spirit” in both the Hebrew and Greek languages are translated into English as “wind,” or “breath,” or you might say “flow.” I believe that sensing and experiencing the flow is simply tapping into God’s eternal Spirit who lives outside of time, but breathes into me bread crumbs and seeds which eventually lead to things in their due season and time.

What Peter wrote to the exiled followers of Jesus was that the waiting calls for humility. This past Sunday I defined humility as “the willing, conscious, intentional crucifixion of my own ego,” whose time frame is an impatient NOW, and who tends to demand that revelation and fulfillment happen in my time frame, not God’s.

If you want to know what tragically happens when we try to make the flow happen in our own way and our own timeline, see Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Macbeth and his lady are quintessential examples.

Consecrated

I said to them, “You as well as these articles are consecrated to the Lord.”
Ezra 8:28 (NIV)

Growing up in my mother’s house, there was a set of decorative, fine china and silverware that was reserved for the most special of occasions. Typically it was a holiday feast or special event with extended family that brought out the precious place settings on the table.

Perhaps the notion of fine china still exists in homes today, though my personal experience is that society, in general, has become much more functional with our tableware. That’s the way it is in our house. Everyday china is used every day but it is embellished with special decoration or accessories for special occasions. Still, there is a small set of wine glasses handed down to Wendy from her family that  I almost always use whenever we happen to celebrate the Lord’s Supper around our table. It just feels right to use a glass that is connected to family, history, and generations for such a purpose.

Consecration is a word we don’t use very often anymore. It means to be set apart or dedicated for special purpose. It’s like fine china reserved for the most special of occasions or a wine glass that’s only used for the purpose of Communion.

In today’s chapter, Ezra and the Hebrew exiles are preparing for their journey from captivity back to their home in Jerusalem. They are bringing with them special items that had been consecrated for use in the religious system of sacrifices and offerings in the Temple. These items were plundered by the Babylonians when Jerusalem was besieged and Solomon’s Temple was destroyed and plundered. These consecrated items along with gold and silver dedicated to the restoration of the Temple were carefully accounted for and given to individuals who were responsible for their safekeeping and protection during the journey.

Ezra makes an interesting statement to these individuals who were given responsibility for guarding the consecrated items. He tells them they are each consecrated just like the item in their possession.

Peter, writing to Jesus’ followers spread out through the Roman Empire, says something similar:

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
1 Peter 2:9

Just as Ezra’s exiles were themselves consecrated for carrying special items of worship in the Temple, followers of Jesus are consecrated, “holy” and “special possessions.” Indwelled by God’s Spirit, we carry in and with us the Spirit of God and the Word of God. Along my spiritual journey, I’ve found that believers are slow to accept or embrace this spiritual reality. Perhaps it’s because we don’t want to embrace the responsibility of it. Peter, in the very next paragraph of his letter, goes on to admonish the exiled believers to conduct themselves accordingly with their consecration:

Dear friends, I urge you, as foreigners and exiles, to abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul. Live such good lives among the pagans that, though they accuse you of doing wrong, they may see your good deeds and glorify God on the day he visits us.
1 Peter 2:11-12

In the quiet this morning I find myself thinking about special meals. I’ve enjoyed some wonderful, formal meals with the works: full place settings, fine china, special silver, and cloth napkins. I enjoy those special occasions. I’ve also, however, experienced some special meals that were just as special and meaningful in which the table setting and bill of fare was nothing extraordinary. It was the “consecrated” individuals sitting around that table that made all the difference.

I head into a new work week and a new month this morning reminded that Jesus Himself acknowledged that God had “set Him apart” and “sent into the world.” Jesus was consecrated for God’s purpose, and He knew it. It motivated what He did and said. I confess that I often lose sight of the reality that God has said He “consecrated” me. I forget that Jesus said “As the Father sent me (consecrated, with purpose), so I am sending you (consecrated, with purpose).” I wonder how different this week and month will go if I embrace and embody this reality?

Not Bricks and Mortar, but Flesh and Blood

“However, the Most High does not live in houses made by human hands.”
Acts 7:48 (NIV)

I remember going to church as a kid and being taught a certain reverence for the sanctuary of our church. It was a classically designed sanctuary with an altar that sat on a dais at the back. Over the altar hung a giant cross and from the bottom of the cross hung an old-style lamp which was “the eternal flame.” Just in front of the altar was a lectern that sat on one side from which the scripture readings and announcement were made. On the opposite side was the pulpit which was larger, and stood higher.

As children we were taught that this santuary was special. This was where you went to worship God on Sunday. There was sacredness attached to the room, the altar, and the pulpit. You were to be quiet when you were in there. No running. No playing. Don’t go near the altar unless Reverend Washington is up there serving communion.

After I became a believer and began reading God’s Message for myself, I came to realize that the entire notion of a “sacred” church building was never a part of Jesus’ paradigm. Jesus never asked his followers to build buildings. Quite the opposite. Jesus said, “I will destroy the Temple and rebuild it in three days.” With His death, resurrection, and the subsequent pouring out of Holy Spirit, Jesus did away with the old notion that there was a physical building that would be the center of worship. The “church” Jesus came to build is not made of bricks and mortar, but of flesh and blood.

A time is coming,” Jesus said to the Samaritan woman at the well, “when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem…a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in the Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks.”

In today’s chapter one of Jesus’ early followers, a man named Stephen, is dragged before the Jewish religious authority, called the Sanhedrin, in the Temple in Jerusalem. This is the same council who convicted Jesus and gave Him a death sentence just weeks earlier. Stephen, in his defense, walks the religious leaders through the Great Story from Abraham to Joseph to Moses to the Kings and to the prophets. He tells of Solomon building the Temple where he, himself, was now standing. Stephen then says to religious authorities:

“However, the Most High does not live in houses made by human hands. As the prophet says:

“‘Heaven is my throne,
    and the earth is my footstool.
What kind of house will you build for me?
says the Lord.
    Or where will my resting place be?
Has not my hand made all these things?’”

This morning I’m thinking about sacred spaces, and enjoying the memory of being a kid and finding out that the “eternal flame” that hung over our church’s altar was simply a 40 watt light bulb that sometimes burnt out and had to be replaced by the custodian.

Having a physical building for believers to gather, worship, and create community is a great thing. I just never want to lose sight of the truth that Jesus never intended “the church” to be a building down the street. When Holy Spirit indwells me as a believer my flesh and blood becomes “the church” because God is within me, one with my spirit. I am sacred space. “Don’t you know,” Paul wrote to the Corinthian believers, “that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in your midst?” So, “the church” is wherever I happen to be. It’s wherever two or more believers gather together.

I don’t go to church. I am the church.

Continuous Personal Worship

Thai SunsetEach of the four living creatures had six wings and was covered with eyes all around, even under its wings. Day and night they never stop saying:
“‘Holy, holy, holy 
is the Lord God Almighty,’
who was, and is, and is to come.”
Revelation 4:8 (NIV)

I have been in many different churches over the years representing a wide breadth of Christian denominations. From holy rolling Pentecostal healing services to quiet Quaker meetings to the pomp and ritual of the Roman Catholic mass, I have experienced worship in many different forms. I can’t say one was better than another any more than a great Italian meal is better than a great Midwestern barbecue. They each bring something different to the experience that satiates hunger with its own taste and flair. I can honestly say that I have appreciated how each variety of worship style satiates peoples hunger to worship God with its own unique taste and flair.

In today’s chapter, John has a vision and finds himself ushered into the throne room of heaven. This is not the first time this has happened in God’s Message. The prophet Isaiah described a similar experience (Isaiah 6) hundreds of years before John. In each description, there is “day and night” worship that continually acknowledges God being ‘holy’ (Merriam-Websterexalted or worthy of complete devotion as one perfect in goodness and righteousness). When Isaiah heard the angelic beings they acknowledged that “the whole earth is full of his glory.” The four creatures John saw poetically acknowledged God’s timelessness as one who “was, is, and is to come.” The 24 elders at the end of today’s chapter worship God for being the creator of all things and giver of life.

In this chapter-a-day journey through God’s Message we have run across few descriptions of heaven. The common denominator in those we have run across is worship in the form of continuous verbal acknowledgement of God. Today, I am thinking about my own personal act of worship, which isn’t confined to an hour in church on Sunday morning. I have found personal worship to be the continuous awareness and acknowledgement of God in my breathing, working, eating, drinking, re-creating, resting, relating, loving, and living. How that manifests itself varies like the rituals of the Quakers and Catholics and I can’t say that I think it matters all that much. I have found that the important thing about personal worship is not what it looks like but that it happens.

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