I'm going to be honest. One month ago these exact words came out of my mouth:
'Emily hat off, worship hat on.'
Cringe worthy? I know. They were dribbling with the remnants of sarcasm and an attitude that I had become all too well acquainted with. The problem is, it wasn't just a slip of the tongue, and I could feel the words ricocheting off the walls of my everyday life.
'Uni hat off, worship hat on.'
'Mum hat off, worship hat on.'
'Job hat off, worship hat on.'
Sound familiar?
It can be so easy for a whisper of praise or a loud deposition of who He is to be drowned out by the violence of everyday life. When the earth moves at break-neck speed, our awareness of the Father, and ability to praise him, becomes brutally anesthetised.
Has desensitisation become our only defence against everything elbowing for our attention?
When anguish plagues our every decision, we can hardly hear Him and—sometimes, just sometimes—we choose to hardly hear him. Have we forgotten the intimate and eternal conversation between the Creator and Creation?
There are so many things wrong with my quiet, sarcastic comment. It's not something I'm proud of. Thinking about it now, it genuinely hurt me to praise Him. I can honestly say that some of the time my praise is just not good enough. That may be blunt, but goodness me it's the truth. Occasionally, I feel like it doesn't fulfil its purpose. When it's as half-hearted as mine seemed to be that day, does it make it to the heart of the Father? Or fall short halfway there?
When my devotion to God is half-hearted, when my praise is so easily abandoned, when anguish stops me from praising Him, that's when my worship hat comes off.
Israel was required to offer up animals and gifts to God as sacrifices for their atonement and thanksgiving, but time and time again their meager efforts fell short. And I know how they felt.
But I turn to look at Jesus—the perfect sacrifice. Peter writes: 'As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.'
More than lyrics
Not long ago I was listening to Hillsong United's song Even when it Hurts (Praise Song). I absolutely love well-written lyrics and these ones hit me pretty hard. It was one of those moments when you know the Holy Spirit is really challenging you. Pierce the soul type stuff.
Even when my strength is lost I'll praise You
Even when I have no song I'll praise You
Even when it's hard to find the words
Louder then I'll sing Your praise
Even when our fight seems lost I'll praise you
Even when it hurts like hell I'll praise you
Even when it makes no sense to sing
Louder then I'll sing your praise
This isn't exactly a happy-clappy-Sunday-morning song. No, this is the kind written to sound its loudest when darkness seems to avail in the cold-lonely silence, when it hurts to praise, when it's hard to even find words. Louder then, this is that kind of praise song.
When I was pondering on what these lyrics meant for me, a thought occurred to me. One long-forgotten, quenched, disregarded thought.
'Emily, what would it look like for your worship hat to never come off?'
The lyrics of this song are really powerful. And they have the potential to become more than just well-written words or a delicate melody, but something exceedingly beautiful that rebounds from your lips into your life. When we proclaim words like this, they don't just simply spill out as a narrative, but as assertions and commands from the heavens.
Heartfelt praise
If there is anything to be taken from our own hardship and God's grace and unfailing promises—even if you are still waiting in the darkest night for morning to come, there is nothing more powerful that we could do, than to shift our focus from ourselves to the One worthy of our highest praise.
When I have no song, even then—I will praise You. No eloquent words needed, no beautifully written songs, no conditions, no dress code, no social status, no fortune. Even when my strength is lost, even then—I will praise You.
When I have failed You, when fear cripples me, when I can't seem to find the strength to step into today, louder then I'll sing Your praise. Even when it makes no sense to sing, I will sing Your praise.
Jesus enables me praise even when it hurts. See, these words aren't just poetry; they are your heartfelt cry. So, let your praise be tainted with the fragrance of heaven. Bring worthy devotion to His table. Do it afraid. Do it real. Do it hurt. Praise through your anguish will move the Father heart of God. And when He is moved, He moves.
Yeah. It's good, right?
I don't know about you, but I want to be a daughter who moves the heart of God with my bodacious praise, even when it hurts like hell.
Emily Black is passionate about writing and seeks to write raw, authentic and timely pieces that disturb and comfort, engage justice and fundamentally empower. She is currently studying a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Melbourne and actively desires to pursue a life of untainted freedom through Jesus Christ.
Emily Black's previous articles may be viewed at http://www.pressserviceinternational.org/emily-black.html