I lead “worship” [the singing, guitar-strumming, key-pounding, drum-banging, fairly loud kind] on a pretty regular basis for our church family.
This past Sunday was no exception - except - for the first time in probably 12 years, I led without playing an instrument.
Our buddy Micah backed me up on his guitar, and I held a microphone with my otherwise-empty hands and stood there and felt bare.
No electric piano. No guitar. Nothing between me and our congregation.
No chord charts to demand my attention – just lyrics I knew by heart.
I was excited to lead with no instrument.
I was also nervous to worship with no props.
But worship I did. Heart exposed, guts raw, broken open before the Lord.
And, in a way that doesn’t happen often enough for me, I found myself able to reach down deep, to the interior places of my heart, to grab whatever I could find and lay that stuff before the Lord.
In front of everyone, but somehow alone with Him.
It was a worship experience like I haven’t had in maybe years.
I was spilled out.
The emotion that came with my worship surprised me, made me feel vulnerable. But I pressed in anyway.
Into His heart.
And as I ponder the word worship this morning, I can’t help but feel that the position of my heart before Him this past Sunday morning? It’s the way we’re invited to live each day.
Reaching down into our deep places and laying bare before Him everything we find there.
Raw. Honest. Exposed.