Thursday, October 26, 2006
Not long ago after working three Sundays in a row, I told my boss I had to get out of there early, by 10:30; to go to church. I had to.
It was the second song during praise and worship when I had settled into my usual seat. I love to worship but more than that; I need it. Worship reveals a part of myself that often gets pushed to the back of my heart; desperation.
Sweet desperation. I stood there stretching out toward heaven so aware of my desperation for God that I couldn’t stop the tears and didn’t want to. So desperate that I stopped being aware of the people around me, my flat singing voice or the band on the stage. So desperate that if I had the choice, I’d have left earth by whatever means possible to be a step closer to Him.
I’m desperate. There’s nothing here for me but chances to revel in that desperation. There’s nothing worth doing but stretching toward heaven until one day, I finally get there.
It’s not that I have some special “gift of desperation”. We’re all desperate. It’s a matter of embracing or rejecting our state. It’s a matter of reaching out or reaching in to fill the void.
I am so glad that I’m desperate.
8 Do not hold against us the sins of the fathers; may your mercy come quickly to meet us,
for we are in desperate need.
9 Help us, O God our Savior, for the glory of your name; deliver us and forgive our sins for your name's sake.