The Villian Concert?

Certain battles are always being fought in the pews. As long as human beings fill those seats the battles against our flesh will erupt in some unkind volcano or another. However, it is the battle over Sunday morning worship that seems to boil the utmost of our pettiness and spew the ultimate of our malice.

In the sanctuary of my church back home there are florescent lights and softer can lights. Several times my husband and I requested that we turn off the florescent lights during the worship session. That industrial glare seemed so harsh, so external. We were told "No." So we worshipped in the cold, flickering lights. Because He is worthy of worship.

We were told "No" with the justification that having only the softer lights would make worship seem, "Too much like a concert."

There are worse things for our praises to be.

When was the last time you went to a concert? Did the people sit in disengaged stillness? Did they wonder when this song would be over, why none of their friends were there, why all the lights were low? Was the somberness palpable? Was the boredom consuming?

Let's imagine for a moment that every Sunday morning we did not attend a worship service. Let's imagine we attended the King's concert. We would sing with joy. With would jump with victory. We would dance with passion. That's right. We would dance. All of our friends would be there, rejoicing with us, and though we may not notice, the angels would lend their delight. We would not notice the lights, or the sounds, or the smell of the room. Because we came for Him. Not for us. A concert for the King: loud, vibrant, slaves set free clapping rhythms to their Savior, warriors dancing honor to the Lord, mourners weeping "It Is Well."

I think that is what Psalm 150 had in mind. A concert. To the King. Because He is worthy.

Praise the Lord!
Praise God in His sanctuary;
Praise Him in His mighty expanse.
Praise Him for His mighty deeds;
Praise Him according to His excellent greatness.
Praise Him with trumpet sound;
Praise Him with hard and lyre.
Praise Him with timbrel and dancing;
Praise Him with stringed instruments and pipe.
Praise Him with loud cymbals;
Praise Him with resounding cymbals.
Let everything that  has breath praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD!

Maybe it is because I belong to the drummer. He mentions cymbals twice. And they are supposed to be loud. We have every reason, breathing saints, to praise Him.