IN SLEEPLESS DREAMS...

I should make this clear: I don't dream. Not often.

I know the experts say we dream all the time, but I don't - at least, not in any coherent or memorable sense. Not typically, anyway. I'm more the type of guy who has a few nightmares a year and wakes up vaguely scared. On rare occasion, I'll have a memorable random dream. But it fades fast. They always do. And another thing I'll point out is that I don't move in my dreams. Sometimes I'm in my own head seeing with my own vision, but often I'm just observing situations like a fly on the wall. And even when I am in a body, and strange things begin to happen, calling for me to move or run... I can't. I'm paralyzed a huge portion of the time. I try to move and my limbs are like lead-coated cement blocks. They're useless. And I become aware at that point that I'm in-between the dreaming and the waking - that suddenly my actual body is involved and I can't force it to run from danger, because it's, you know, asleep. This frustration is usually quick to wake me up, since whatever it is I needed to flee from catches up with me right away.

As you might have guessed, most of my nightmares don't last long. I might make an audible "Uuhhhmmm" and then stir awake, thankful for control of my arms and legs.

But lately... I have been dreaming. I've been dreaming a lot. It's getting to the point where I can wake up really tired from the emotional and mental strain of the dreams. Most of them aren't horrific or anything, just dense and vivid, which is something I'm not used to. Lots of detail and nuance. And there is a feeling of somber revelation coming from them - even when I can't interpret what it is I've dreamed - I wake up with the same feeling you have after the twist comes in a good movie. I'm left feeling the same weight of gravity.

And my eyes hurt. It happened last month when this all started, and then I got a break from it. But now this past week, it's back again. I'm guessing it's from the large amount of REM sleep I'm getting? ...My eyes feel overworked. Tired. They're sore whenever I move them.

One more thing I'll mention (before relaying a couple of the specific dreams I've had recently) is that there is one dream which seems to have always been with me. I've had it numerous times since I was young, and more recently, it seems I have it every few years or so. I've never known what it means or why it has proven to be the defining dream of my life so far... but all that may be coming into focus.

In the dream, I've seemingly left a large amusement park at night. It's a very dark night, and I'm standing in the parking lot while the action inside continues on - the periodic roar of people on massive roller coasters going through their drops and flips, the flashing lights of every imaginable color, the steady swirl of the Ferris wheel, and the general, happy din of all those still inside - eating, walking, playing games, riding rides, and going about the general business of having fun. And all of it glowing brilliantly on this dark night. It's as though, if you were in the amusement park, you wouldn't see how dark it is, and once you're outside of it, the glow of the park captures and demands your attention regardless.

So I'm standing in the parking lot. There are some people with me, but it doesn't always matter who they are. Occasionally, they've been family or close friends, but sometimes they're just nameless and faceless people.

And then it happens: The entire world flips 90 degrees. In a sickening instant, what was flat ground beneath my feet becomes a flat wall to which I'm hopelessly attempting to press my body against - a sheer cliff face with no holds for hands or feet. Large vehicles tumble around me and spin off into the black abyss below, but somehow I hold on. The people I'm with are able to desperately claw at the asphalt as well. This doesn't last long. In the dream, I next get a sense that my shoulders are straining. My fingers chafe and burn from trying to hold on to nothing. And then I look up (or rather, to the side) at the amusement park... And unbelievably, it's still going on just as before as though nothing has happened, completely unaware that a great shift has taken place in the world. The park has so entertained and overwhelmed the senses that those inside have been kept from the reality of what has happened, and the gravity of it has not affected them. They have been preserved in this state of amusement, this bubble of escapism...

And I wake up.

This dream is not a long one, but it has never been a fun one either. And with my recent surge in the dreaming, I've been thinking maybe I need to reevaluate it. I'm thinking it may be finally coming to light. I won't explain how - I'll leave interpretation to anyone reading this - but, if you know me, and you know the things that I get passionate about, you might have a sense of how this dream (and the others I'll share below) can fit in with the "aim to reflect what is, and what should be" of this particular blog...

I hesitate to tell this next dream. It was a few days before I shared it with anyone. I sat on it for awhile wondering if I should feel guilty about it... I have no agenda in sharing it now, but I also want to be transparent in these strange developments in my sleep life, because any major development in my dreams is a major development in general for me. Something vivid from my subconscious is pretty big news in Kevinland. And I write big news down. It's what I do. It's how I take stock and keep track of things.

1) Thursday night I dreamed of a dense jungle. The sheer amount of trees, foliage and uneven terrain made it difficult to see very far in any particular direction. It was daytime, but hazy due to the canopy overhead. Just a whole lot of old growth everywhere. And a lot of "old death" too, I guess, as there were also plenty of downed tree branches and trunks, slippery with humidity. The whole thing was thick and obtrusive. Almost claustrophobic, but I found I wasn't scared despite being a lifelong claustrophobic person. Still, all of this added up to the very kind of environment you wouldn't want to get chased in unless you were a hardcore parkour god or something.

And this is precisely what began to take shape in my dream - a classic chase.

What emerged there in the jungle was something I can only describe as a Monster. I know it was dark (the blackest black you can imagine), and that a dark cloud of ambiance surrounded it. I know it was large and powerful and imposing, but I never got a full glimpse of it. I know it had odd appendages - almost spider-like hands or fingers at the end of long, sinewy arms - while the body was more like that of a large ape if I had to pin it down, but again, I never got a good look. In total, it was a massive thing, but it was surprisingly agile.

And while I say this dream featured a chase and a Monster, the strange thing is that this dream was not scary, but somber. To put it another way, if this dream had been a genre film, it would have been a drama and not a horror movie.

I found myself in a slight clearing in the jungle. Around me were a bunch of men - some of whom I know, and some of whom I didn't know, but I still understood who these others were -they were the same as the ones I knew. What everyone in that clearing had in common was their background. Each of us had been (or was) a "pastor," a "teacher," or whatever else you might call it. We were of various ages and affiliations, but these were all people who'd been entrusted with a platform of spiritual authority in some place or another.

And the Monster didn't come upon us or ravage through the jungle toward us. It didn't startle us at all, really. Rather, it began to appear in our midst. It began to take shape as we stood there, and I remember feeling sad (again, not scared) as this happened. But I knew I needed to run as soon as I recognized that it was indeed a Monster materializing, so I took off. A few others did too. Some waited longer. Others, I think, just stood there. Some of them who waited to see it fully form might have not even realized it was there until it was too late. But there weren't any bloodcurdling screams or anything. Even so, the Monster took its full form and those closest to it disappeared. They weren't violently ripped apart or eaten - they were just consumed by its darkness, its aura. And once they were consumed, the Monster started heading for the rest of us.

Remember how I said I can't move in my dreams (let alone run like crazy)? Well it didn't apply here. I was running impressively - dodging hanging branches, jumping those blocking the path, vaulting rock outcroppings, and sliding down embankments with fluidity and grace. (Forget dreams, I can't do any of that in REAL life.) ...But the Monster persisted, and as it did, it overtook people behind me. Again, no screaming or gore - it just absorbed them somehow. And it got a little bigger each time it did, I guess, because it was bigger near the end of the dream than it was at the beginning.

This went on for awhile.  

By the end of the chase, I had pulled myself up a short wall of slimy roots and rolled over the top. There was one other person still with me, struggling to get up the same wall. I scrambled back to the edge and leaned down to grab hold of him. Then I heard a rustling in the thick of what we had just passed through. I looked up and saw nothing at first, just leaves and foliage swaying... until I caught a glimpse of black, spindly fingers holding onto a branch. The rest of its body was hidden by the plant life below. But the Monster had stopped pursuing for the moment. It was perched, observing, waiting. All was quiet. And I knew I would have to keep moving, but I also knew I would be chased again as soon as I did. And again, I felt sad. There was a real emotional gravity to that moment. A reckoning. Though I wasn't afraid of this Monster, I knew I could not simply remain with it here. It would pursue again. It had claimed the jungle as its own. And even if I was to find that I personally had no problem evading it forever within the jungle, did I really want that chase to define my existence? Did I want to be forever near this thing? The perimeter of the jungle was within reach, but it was absolutely unknown - it was a blinding light, free of the safety of the canopy of old growth I'd always known.

Leaping into it could change everything.

I woke up.

2) One of the first places a lot of people head to when they land in Thailand is the Khao San Road. It's a street in downtown Bangkok - a few blocks' length of an uninterrupted backpacker haven. All down the street are food stalls (churning out glorious Pad Thai all day, every day), clothing vendors, massage experts, henna artists, and carriers of random trinkets. Behind all this, you'll find more vendors on the sidewalks, where purveyors of nicknacks have storefront umbrellas which open up-and-out to passersby. You can find anything you need for travel in these places, and they are peppered around the street next to the other three things you'll see a lot of - convenience stores, restaurants, and guesthouses. The convenience stores and restaurants also line the street, while the guesthouses are typically located directly behind or on top of them, sometimes accessible only via small alleyways... The point is, the street is absolutely packed with nonstop traveler-oriented places of interest. It's pretty glorious in its own way. A charming collision of eastern hospitality and western... normalcy.

I bring all this up to say that if you imagine that same street, but take away all of its lovely imperfection, and the charming ingenuity of the working poor who fashioned it, and replace it with nothing but "nice" places to eat, drink and stay (and certainly no street vendors)... And if you wrapped each establishment in a cold and calculated facade of prefabricated "diversity" - so those who came to visit the street got a false sense of there being a variety of options... You'd have the setting of my second dream from this past Sunday afternoon's nap. It was a phony amusement park land, made to appeal to privileged, stuck up tourists rather than simple, open-minded travelers. It lacked the honesty and grit of the Khao San Road.

And in my dream, I worked there in the anti-Khao San. I had a job in one of the establishments. Now, unlike the jungle chase, there wasn't a continuous narrative flow to this dream. It came in snapshots. Vignettes depicting the shiny appearance of this resort place, but also hinting at the reality of what was behind it. 

This dream, by the way, was scary.

The tourists would come and go. They would eat, they would drink, they would enjoy the entertainment... But always, there were the managers and proprietors watching over everything. I'll call them "Executives." They were like a tribe unto themselves - perfectly groomed, clean-shaven, and glowing in their tuxedos. And though they ran different properties within the resort, I understood them to be a collective - a corporate entity that determined its agenda and followed it with a ruthless efficiency. Even without seeing much of each other, they had a singular ideal in place and operated somewhat like a hive-mind.

They would not tolerate anything (or anyone) disturbing the illusion they had worked so hard to create. And they maintained this illusion at all costs, for there could be no disruption of the Great Show.

Within the greater resort, the particular establishment that I found myself working for was styled like a lodge. Everything was wood inside - floors, chairs, tables, walls - all in a glossy, caramel-colored stain. There was a bar in the front room nearest the street, and separate dining halls leading off to each side behind it. French doors were kept open while dividing each of the spaces from the next, and at the joining of all the rooms was a central atrium - which featured a large glass skylight directly over a circular stage. The stage itself was made out of white plastic, and the natural light pouring through the glass provided an additional stark contrast to the dark woods all around the atrium. Anything that would have been placed on that stage would have stood out like bacteria under a microscope. The combination of white stage and glass roof made for an awkwardly exposed centerpiece to such an earthy, rustic establishment.

It was odd... But it was also somehow the "truth" of this place. It was the real core of the establishment, regardless of how everything around it was made to look. It was cold. Sterile. Even walking into the atrium made you feel violated or under heavy surveillance. When you were in there - serving food and drinks, or facilitating entertainment - you were all smiles. You were on your best behavior. And I had the distinct sense that each Establishment up and down Resort Street had a similar room at its center.

The entertainment kept the guests (seemingly) happy enough, but it was all either phony or dangerous. Phony like the not-good-enough-for-Vegas song and dance acts you might find on a cruise ship. And dangerous like physically dangerous, only no one would let on that they recognized they were in danger sitting there, passively taking it all in... One time, there was some sort of fight planned between huge beasts. One was a bear and the other a lion, I think. They might have been something else (or beasts my mind just invented for the dream). These creatures were let loose amidst all of the people, snarling and running at each other. Time and again they collided, and each time their forms met there was a great clash of snapping bones and flying fur. The room itself wasn't that big - the stage took up most of it - and the beasts did not stay only on the stage. Their fight spilled over it and onto the floor, near the people. 

This was all terrifying, but the key for employees was to look confident and unfazed by the show. The Executives forever loomed in their tuxedos, watching you at all times to make sure you never broke the illusion they wished to instill. This was particularly scary when I felt it was doing the guests a disservice, since it produced in them a crass and carefree attitude toward what was an actual and direct threat to their safety. They were being entertained by terrifying things. They'd welcomed a spectacle without considering its potential affects. Thus, instead of running or even guarding themselves, they clapped and cheered as dangerous, beastly limbs (and claws, and teeth) came within inches of their bodies during the fight.

And not everyone was able to emerge from such experiences without injury.

One morning, after such an event the day before - and before business had picked up for the day, I was in the atrium cleaning up. A friend of mine (who I know in real life, though I didn't know him in the dream) limped into the room, clearly in great pain. I'm not sure if he worked there with me or had been a guest, which is strange to me since the rest of the dream was so vivid... but maybe it doesn't matter, and his situation could apply to either a customer or an employee. Whatever the case, he was pale and looked exhausted. He was also shirtless. On his stomach - just to the left of his belly button, running vertically - was a large wound. It had been a gash that was already tended to, but the medical attention had been careless and haphazard. Each side of the skin had been folded back in towards the other and it looked like a crooked canyon in his torso. The area surrounding the wound was puffy, pasty, chapped and red. I knew it must be extremely infected... He needed help. 

Looking on (as always) were at least two tuxedo-clad Executives. They made no attempt to hide their disdain for the injured Man having the audacity to barge in on their illusion. Their posture said everything about how they felt: There was no place for him here where he might dispel their precious mirage. But for some reason (perhaps because it was early in the day), they tolerated him and said nothing... Though they looked poised to act if anything should occur which was too far outside their comfort zone... Still, they were as threatened by what was taking place as they were threatening.

I knew their eyes were fixed on us as I went over to the Man. Their stare was incredibly penetrating. To even know it was at my back was nearly paralyzing. It weakened me to move or to speak to this person with them there, but somehow I did just that. The man was ready to crumple in pain and delirium. Even his blinking was labored. I said, "You need to lay down over here," and motioned to a clear spot on the floor between the stage and the door. He made his way to the place and I helped him to lie down. I don't know why I knew what to do next - there was no precedent for that within my dream, and the Executives didn't know either... But I knelt over him and placed my hands on either side of the wound, and I began to apply pressure starting at the top and working toward the bottom. As I did, a sickening puss began to emerge from the gash. It was thick and yellow, and it quickly began to get all over the floor. I felt the penetrating stare of the Executives grow in intensity behind me, and I cowered a bit beneath their looming contempt... But I didn't stop. The Man winced with both pain and the faint glimmer of relief, and I winced too.

And then something even more bizarre started to happen. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the Infection was now coming out of me as well. I don't know from where exactly - I just saw a small flow of it gathering around my shoe. My first reaction was fear, because the hostility and repulsion behind me continued to swell even more. Now I was implicated. I wasn't just helping the Man, I was somehow like the Man, and thus worthy of the full measure of scorn and derision. I felt completely exposed and entirely vulnerable, but I managed to keep pressing. My leg began to shake with tension. I kept pressing. We both continued to drain of the Infection... And then... relief. A weight was gone. I could breathe anew. And I now had a clarity I'd never known before. 

It was done.

I realized I was thirsty. Maybe I had been for a long time. But despite there being no readily accessible water, strength began to build in me, and in the Man as well. We managed to stand up straight. He already looked dramatically better. We left the room, the Executive gaze of hatred and bewilderment behind us never pausing for a second. When we reached the front doors and the street, I told the Man that he had to get out. I told him that they would try to hurt him again. That they wouldn't want those still under their control (or still charmed by their illusion) to see what had happened. I told him the truth would not be welcome here... He agreed, and we spoke of the Coast. There would be freedom there. A refuge. Pure sunlight and cool water.

Later that day he returned. He had a small backpack packed and was ready to go. After saying goodbye, he trotted off down the street and into the unknown. For some reason, it wasn't until then that I realized I would have to leave as well. Everything we'd spoken of in regards to him applied to me as well. I had been implicated in his Infection and exposed my own. I had cared more to help him than to help the Resort continue to look shiny. The scathing scrutiny of the Executives was on me as surely as it was on him.

I prepared to leave. At this point in the dream, my wife suddenly entered the equation. (It's a dream, after all - they have their oddities and quirks.) We discussed all that was going on. She was completely on board and relieved that people were discussing the reality of things. We talked quietly. Packed quietly.

Early the next morning, while the Resort still slept from the previous night's frivolity, we were up and ready to set out. We made our way out to the street... "Wait, I need to do one more thing," I told my wife. As she stood in front of the building, I made my way through a small side alley and began to climb on top of some shelving. I found random things to hoist myself up and over and made my way to the top of the Establishment. My abiding feeling was that I needed to leave water for those who would remain behind and come to the same realizations that I had come to. From the top of the structure, I set out a tray and lined it with small, clear cups. I took out a water bottle and poured into each one. I was concerned for those still here, but I knew I couldn't force them to be ready. I pushed the tray into place on a top shelf where it would be hidden from anyone who wasn't looking for it. Before heading back down from the roof, I looked up from my perch, realizing I'd never been atop the structure before. I'd never had the desire to climb up until now. But from up here, I could see with new eyes.

The new perspective was like a "twist" in a psychological thriller. I could see a great reveal of something unknown to me until that moment - that my Establishment was fitted with a frame which spread out from the top down. From a central base it divided and reached in each direction, its fingers stretched like a cage. Everything built within the structure of the Establishment had been forced to fit into this template. The cage itself was a sturdy material - it had once been a precious metal - but it had corroded and discolored with age the way copper does when left to the elements.

But it wasn't just the place I had known. All of these Establishments within the greater Resort - however varied their decor and theme - had this decaying shell in common. The frame was exactly the same, one to the next. They had all built within the same mold, and explored all the same dimensions. And this was the unspoken reality that I had never been able to pinpoint before. They were ultimately the same despite their internal presentation.

From its central position over each establishment the outstretched fingers of the common frame spread over the glass of each central atrium. I could see that whatever light was being allowed in was being hindered by the same obstructions in each place. It was casting the same shadows.

The cage defined everything Resort Street was.

I made my way down, and headed back out onto the street.

We headed for the Coast... And I woke up.

WORSHIP: THE FUNCTION VS. THE FORM

Here is one thing that surprises a lot of first time visitors to Nashville. It’s a full replica of the famous Greek temple, the Parthenon, which is left over from when Tennessee was hosting the World's Fair forever ago. Apparently, Nashville used to be well-regarded as "the Athens of the South," back in the days when it championed the very progress and higher learning it now politically dismisses at "elitist." But regardless of any ironies between past and present... A full-scale ancient temple is not something you expect to see after driving down the Nashville strip. But it's cool to check out, especially since it's not in ruins. We went when we moved out here. And we've taken some friends to see it when they visited.

The Parthenon houses a huge statue of Athena. What we'd perhaps call an "idol." It struck me, though, while looking at this ornate, 40-foot carving... I just felt confirmation of something I've sensed for a long time. It's the idea that people don't worship the FORM, but the FUNCTION of a god. We can't even process the form of Divinity – we can’t conceive of it – so instead we echo it; we echo the Way of a god in the manner by which we ourselves live. This is why the ancients had gods for every kind of commerce or lifestyle or culture. And current civilization is no different.

The way we live is indicative of what “god” means to each of us. Our hearts are found in the same place as the things we treasure.

As large as Athena may have been, I've never been able to swallow the common conception of ancient people being that in awe of a mere statue. I simply have always had a hard time imagining them literally believing it was fully mystical or divine. However glorious its composition or however assured its craftsmanship, I've thought that it would make more sense if they just held it to be a symbol for something much greater. And from what I’ve learned of religious life in that context, what I'm thinking seems to be true – at least, for most ancient people, that would seem to be the case. For a temple in ancient Greece, the worship taking place was not so much of the fashioned image, but of what the image represented. What it meant. What it stood for. The real action and weight of "worship" was of the other activities being blessed or endorsed by the temple, both inside and outside of it. And thus, when ancient people attended temple rituals and gatherings – they went to be a part of the scene, to ingest many substances (from wine, to hallucinogens, to the meat of sacrificed animals), they went to have interactions of a commercial or sexual nature, to form trade agreements, to take advantage of young children and traffic in human life, to carouse and make profitable business connections… Basically, they got together and did all the things they wanted to do anyway, excusing otherwise questionable activity by sanctifying it as “religious,”

And for them, this was all part of “worship.” Misguided, absolutely – but integrated holistically into all of their lives.

Contrary to popular opinion, they didn't go because they were so stupid they thought a statue was the end-all to their religion. Any pagan would know that mere worship of the form yields nothing. They knew that, ultimately, only the function matters. The form is an icon made to reflect the greater function. The icon is not an end in itself, and temple worship did not entail people just sitting there, praising a carved rock. The ancients’ religious views and acts of worship implied and included a way of life involving one’s place in society, view of culture, political stances, industrial ventures, treatment of other people, environmental philosophies… All of these things were integrated into “worship.” A functioning worship. So when they "worshiped before an idol," it wasn't just them bowing, saying, "Wow, this statue sure is fantastic... Wow, isn’t this stone terrific…" Rather, in the biggest and most lavish temples, full of the wealthiest and most important people, they didn't merely revere idols - they altered their minds and preyed on the weak and helpless while building their own kingdoms. Their worship exhibited actively the things they valued most in life: Greed. Excess. Gluttony. Power. Unchecked lust and aggression…

...So I'm thinking about all this and then something hits me: It is very sad and telling that - despite serving a God who is the opposite of the things mentioned above - so many people of Jesus' Way don't always realize the same thing ancient pagans did. That in vain, we attempt to be at our best and most meaningful by gathering together to “worship” the FORM of God – which remains so intangible and elusive to us – when it is the FUNCTION which should ultimately matter most. And then I realized that God understands this – God recognizes that worship is about making connections, about the transitive properties of WHAT WE DO. In fact, isn't that what God has been telling us from the very beginning? Isn't that why Jesus can say, "Peter, do you love me? Really? No seriously, you do? …Then feed my sheep." If worship is how we overflow to God our love and devotion, we need to take another long look at those famous words. “Do you love me? …Feed my sheep.” We’d also do well to examine the things Jesus says about sheep and goats, and the things we do as unto God.

As misguided as some of the ancients’ worship may have been, we can still learn from the way they engaged worship in general, and, possibly, get a little closer to God’s ideal in the process. We should be aiming closer to function and not settling for a form that we can’t pin down. Of course, it’s always humbling when we learn lessons of worship from those we consider misguided. But that’s good for us. A lot of us pride ourselves on how closed off we are to those we consider “wrong” in any way. We staunchly assert that no one who is "wrong" could ever have anything to teach us, or could live in any way that might inform the way we live. A lot of us do not allow ourselves to be challenged, and end up going through life without permitting ourselves to change – thinking we’ve already arrived – as though we have something to prove to God. We’re too often too set in our ways, and too often unteachable... And yet God is always trying to talk to us, however we might be reached, and in many diverse ways.

Now, I say all this as a long-time "worship leader." One who is feeling the paradigm shift inside, feeling God transform his desire for how to accomplish real and true worship. I have been feeling that shift for some time - years, in fact. I have been coming to grips with the reality of how my own music might take shape, how it might function for this purpose, and how the rest of me might take shape in all that I feel, think, say and do. And I've had to ask the question, "How can I use who I am and what I do to best worship God now?" And the answer has come, "Worship will be accomplished as you saturate your aim with doing as God does - not just calling out to a vague notion of God's form, but joining in God's function. Live in this way, letting all you do be marked with love, mercy, compassion, honesty, truth, beauty, freedom..."

This is a timely realization for me.

The church has essentially commoditized "worship" into the ground, strangling it with the passionless hands of Industry. A bit over ten years ago, worship music became synonymous with Christian Pop. Now, a decade later, the consumer-machine has mostly run its course with this trend. Worship leader rock stars have made a lot of greedy people a lot of money, and now the hysteria is dying down. But while the “worship boom” as a “movement” shows signs of exhaustion, we once again face the reality that our flavor of the moment is not the answer. Once again, we’re forced to look at the entirety of our holistic selves to examine whether or not our lives are pleasing to the Divine – whether or not they are marked by “worship.” We used to sing a Matt Redman song which began, "When the music fades / all is stripped away / and I simply come / longing just to bring / something that's of worth / that will bless Your heart..." For as many people as I've seen passionately sing that song with abandon, I've seen far fewer of those same people who actually attempt to live in the truth it dances with. Here we are today - the music is absolutely fading - and where does that leave us? Is worship like theater or print, where it can be pronounced dead? Can real worship actually become obsolete? ...Or did it never fit in the tidy compartment of "congregational singalong" to begin with? 

The tough part to just come out and say is that it's almost eerie to consider how misguided so much of Christian worship is, aiming merely to drum up emotion towards the FORM of God even as we imperfectly describe it, when any worshiper (Christian or Pagan or Jedi) should know – worship is ultimately in the FUNCTION: God's activity informing and inspiring ours. Worship is practical in its transcendence. Worship is holistic in its spirit. It’s integrated. It’s real. It’s who we are. Not just something we leave compartments to do. Who we are. All the time. Existence itself... In that sense, I wish that our idea of worshiping God in song featured less focus on trying to sing AT God and more of a focus on the idea that we're joining God in the song God is singing.

Are we marked by a real, FUNCTIONAL lifestyle of worship? Or have we just scheduled routine moments in which we embrace the FORM of a small shadow of it?

Now, of course, I must say I am not AGAINST singing together. And obviously, “worship” would include our singing out to God, since singing and music are a big part of what it means to be human. It would include our singing to one another of the wonders of God as well. Worship would include those things. Of course it would. We’d never disagree with that or question its place – there is certainly room (and reason) for the church to be singing together. I’d never minimize that.

The problem, though, is apparent in that for many of us, singing is ALL that worship means. When we begin a gathering with “worship,” we know we’re referring to music. When we go to a church conference focused on “worship,” the conference will be focused on playing and singing in groups. And on (and on) we could go with examples. It’s as though, when we hear the word “worship,” some synapse in our brain fires and translates the term for us. We hear “worship” and we interpret “singing.” And as much as we’d never minimize the music we make together, this is a problem. It’s a problem because worship is so much more than that. And it deserves so much more than that. Our definition of “worship” is small and limiting. Worship is not singing. Singing can be worship, but worship is not singing… And if this is the case, how might we better define worship? I’d suggest something like this:

Worship is… A LIFE… REFLECTING… GOD. It’s what God’s creation looks like when it’s basking in God’s light. It is any part of the universe communicating God’s nature, will or purpose. It’s God’s character on display in God’s artistry…And for us in particular, worship is a life reflecting God.

It’s not just singing. It’s broad and beautiful. It’s an endless exploration. And consider, when many of us get to thinking, “So like, Heaven will be really boring if all we do is sing at God all the time, right?” We’re selling the eternal kingdom far, far short of its glory. If all we ever did was the same exact thing, it would be boring. Thankfully, God is far more creative and empowering than that. God’s delight is in engaging and involving people in what God is accomplishing. And God is in the habit of receiving worship in this way.

I’d suggest that worship is such an expansive and mystical pursuit that we’ll never run out of ways to take part in it. When we worship, we join in the dance of God. On an eternal plane, this dance will never lose its mystery or its beauty. It will be forever, infinitely awesome.

Consider: At our worst, we are worshiping the form of our worship itself. At our best we are functioning constantly in a worshipful capacity, being saturated by God’s purpose, and doing only the things we were created to do.

And even now, we could see much more as “worship” than we do. We could take on much more with the mindset of “worship” than we do.

- There is worship in delighting in the natural world, enjoying the splendor of the universe – from the smallest creature to the grandest solar system.

- There is worship in appreciating beautiful things – from any form of art, to the personalities of those you encounter.

- There is worship in creating things and exploring creative passions.

- There is worship in serving others.

- There is worship in an act of love.

- There is worship in any action of selflessness, compassion, mercy, community, generosity, sacrifice, etc.

- There is worship in making peace, bringing comfort, enacting justice or ministering healing. 

- There is worship in “doing as God does” in anything we’ve been called to join God in doing.

- There is worship in any instance our lives reflect God. 

To a follower of God in the Way of Jesus, worship… is… life. When a person’s being reflects God’s Divine light, worship is taking place. As Romans 12 has always said (and I’ll paraphrase), “So, brothers and sisters, since you see life through the lens of God’s merciful way of being, you should offer up all that you are in response – your entire self as a living sacrifice – which is holy, as in set apart for purpose (and absolutely delightful to God, by the way), because this is the core of your spirituality, your way of being marked by worship.”

So I’ve been thinking…

The ancient Greeks and Romans went to a temple and did as the gods did. This was “worship.” They joined in the function. They partied. But modern Christians go to a church building and attempt to drum up the most emotional response toward an intangible form, and then we get confused and saddened when it doesn’t stir us or fails to connect... So even our “worship” becomes a selfish fix – part of an ongoing religious routine. And because of our conditioning and tradition, we end up missing what we should already know intrinsically – that real worship is primarily about function. Our God is spirit, and even our best descriptions, even our best poetry, falls vastly short of capturing God's form. To worship God in the temple, we should be doing as the prophets have always said in showing mercy to one another and releasing every yoke of bondage and oppression. This function of joining God's dance would be a great expression of "worship." It would even be a primary one.

And because God’s temple is not a building but a people, how much more should worship be everything that we are and all of life? Not a compartment for singing, but a core reality which awakens us to enjoying and experiencing God in EVERYTHING.

Like I've said so many times, now I can see more clearly from a different angle – The scripture Jesus' quoted most, "I desire mercy and not sacrifice." …Mercy is what God's doing. It's the function, the purpose, the direction… But then there are the elements which make up much of our gathering together. The religious rites and events we try to prop up in mercy's place, those things which are but a shadow, an imperfect form. 

God’s people have always had a history of this very thing – giving primary attention to the things God would say are secondary, and eventually losing track of the most important things. The book of Isaiah deals primarily with this theme: God telling his people, “You gather. You posture. You fast. You sing… but then you are selfish, rude, uncaring, exploiting, and oppressive to one another. How can I hear your prayers when you are so far from my will, my nature? If you choose religious routines over walking in intimate relationship with me and others, I am not impressed. I am not pleased with you setting yourself a quota and motivating yourself through guilt. That’s selfish too. If you were in my embrace, you’d have joy and empowering to shine. You’d be motivated by love, which is Divine. If even your spirituality is all about you, something is off.” 

Worship is not contained in our limited forms, or in our crying out to a form. It’s ultimately in our function – the entirety of our lives, everything that we are and exist to be and do.

I suppose that to attempt primarily worshiping God outside of the realm of function could ultimately prove as misguided as just bowing down to a statue. And if that's the case, our "worship" itself becomes idolatry. Without function, that form is cheap and meaningless. Without function, worship is left to our best guess at an object, rather than our joining in the subject (and WITH the Subject) of the Great Story. 

ON DEMOLITION... AND CREATION

I've never liked building projects.

When it comes to things that require trips to Lowe's, heavy equipment, wood, drywall, exacting measurements, Spackle, hammering, etc... I just don't like it. And it's not just the physical labor or the dust in my lungs afterward. I just always feel like I can't build anything perfectly (I can't), and at the same time, I also feel like things should be built perfectly. So I'm really hesitant with that kind of work, because, when I try to create, it brings destruction as well. When I paint something intentionally, I paint something else unintentionally. When I carve out some drywall on purpose, I carve out other drywall on accident... It always quickly becomes clear that perfection is impossible for me to achieve. But if my fear of imperfection is such that it causes me to do nothing... well, then... nothing gets done.

On the other hand, when you watch "handy" people - even professional builders - and take note of what they all have in common, you find that it's not so much how flawless their skill level is, or how perfectly they can craft anything they set themselves to making... It's more their tenacity which makes them so good. It's their ability to just bluntly keep on keeping on. And even though something more ideal could be conceived of, they don't let that fact paralyze them. They just build.

It's the same in all aspects of life.

There is no reward without risk. No construction without destruction. No new growth without the old withering away. We can't conceive of fresh concepts without first allowing our preconceptions to fracture, and we can't typically raise our expectations without first challenging our assumptions. In short... "You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs."

In an upside-down kingdom where the first are last and the true leaders serve, we are broken to heal. Brought low to ascend new heights. Humbled to be exalted, we lose our lives to find them, and sacrifice ourselves to truly live. We see our fantasies crumble so that new visions might take hold. We endure nightmares to find beautiful dreams. We traverse valleys to reach mountaintops, and contend with shadows to bask in the light... No one should ever kid themselves into thinking otherwise, because the kingdom of God will always make its own foundations. It will not be tacked-on to existing kingdoms, because it stands on its own.

And none of us will ever see with heaven's eyes unless we first come to grips with who the hell we are.