Choosing To Be Changed

When I was still in pastoral ministry I used to enjoy leading wedding services. I always had fun with the couple, both in preparation and during the service. I really believed that these were moments that could have a lasting impact, in spite of the focus of attention being on the couple and the party to come. Which is why I would often ask couples if they hoped to be married to the same person in twenty years. After watching them nod vigorously, I always enjoyed seeing their faces when I told them I that really hoped they wouldn’t be! Then, just as they were wondering why I should be saying such a shocking thing, I would explain that they were both going to change – they both should be changing if they were growing as people – and so the person they would be married to in the future would be a very different person from the one they were committing to on their wedding day.

Similarly, it was common for me to hear couples that had come for counselling because they were struggling say, “He/She is not the same person I married.” I always found myself wanting to say, “Well, what did you expect?” Whether we like it or not, whether we want it or not, we are always changing. Life’s challenges, joys and sufferings all leave their mark. Our friends, work colleagues and even some casual acquaintances can all shift what we value or how we see the world. If we’re not changing as people, we are not growing. And if we’re not growing, we’re still changing, but in a negative way - we’re stagnating and dying.

This is why the act of worship always calls for a response. When we encounter God through the songs, prayers and rituals of worship, we are faced with God’s purposes for us, God’s gifting of us, God’s call on us and God’s challenge for us to become the people we were created to be. Essentially, as God meets with us, God is asking us to change. That’s why the first word Jesus preached was “Repent” which basically means “change”. That’s also why Richard Foster, in his excellent book “Celebration of Discipline” stated: “To worship is to change”.

The problem is not whether we will change, but whether change will happen TO us or WITH us. If we ignore the changes that face us, or resist them, change doesn’t go away or leave us alone. No, change will still happen, but it will happen without our co-operation, and it will almost always be a painful process that leaves us broken and wounded. But, if we accept the normality and irresistibility of change, and co-operate with the process, we become partners with God in the processes of change that come into our lives, and the result is always one of greater wholeness, peace and life.

Worship teaches us to be co-operators with God’s change processes. As we are confronted each week by the Gospel, we are left with a choice – will we accept God’s call and partner with God in the change God seeks to bring to us and the world, or will we resist God’s call? If we embrace the challenge, the act of responding enables us to open ourselves to God’s Spirit and participate in the transformation the Spirit seeks to bring. Then, as we leave the sanctuary, we go back to our lives different from when we arrived, and a little more aligned with God’s purposes. The choice to respond and partner with God is one that truly changes not just us, but everything. And it’s a choice that we – and our world – need to make more than we may know.

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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.

Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.

Slowing Down

One of the big challenges in our world today is the pace at which life moves. In business, results are measured quarterly. In technology, things seem to change weekly or even daily. In journalism, the world changes from moment to moment. It’s as if we live with a constant sense of being left behind and needing to catch up. Perhaps that’s why psychologist Carl Jung said, “Hurry is not of the devil. It IS the devil.”

There are few things that can trip us up in our quest for God as much as the disease of frantic hurry. When you study the Scriptures, you discover that God works with an eternal view of time, and is not rushed or hurried by human events or agendas. Moses was prepared for eighty years before he began his ministry. Jesus was thirty before he began his. And it took thousands of years before the time was right for the incarnation to break into human affairs. Which is why, if we truly seek intimacy with God, we need to release our obsession with quick fixes and instant results. In spite of its promise, I have my doubts that a book that claims to teach deep meditation in a mere thirty days can really deliver.

It makes sense that dealing with God should take time. Even our human relationships require slow, focussed attention, and both quantity and quality of time. If it is true that God is always reaching out to us, then it is also true that we need to make time to respond effectively to God’s promptings. In human relationships, it is usually our quick reactions to one another that get us into trouble. In our divine relationship, it is our quick reactions that prevent us going deeper and finding the life we long for.

When God speaks, a true response requires reflection. God’s communications are almost always enigmatic, challenging and change-inducing. Jesus taught in parables so that people needed to think more carefully and take time to allow God’s word to emerge from the story and sink into their hearts. It is no different for us today. The first response God asks of us is to slow down and sit with God’s message. Then, we are invited to look inward and examine our hearts in the light of what God has communicated, allowing God’s wisdom to shift our perspectives and understandings and allow new insights into ourselves and the world to emerge.

But, it doesn’t stop there. Once we have taken the time to reflect, we are inevitably led into a deeper, more active engagement with God’s purposes. We will find that our response is not just one of thought or even of prayer. Ultimately, unless our response to God leads us into new behaviours, new attitudes and new ways of relating to one another, we have not truly responded at all. But, it takes time to know how to bring God’s wisdom into practical application in our lives, and so we must avoid the temptation to jump into quick solutions or easy actions.

A true, deep and slow response to God, then, implies that our acts of worship must not be rushed, filled with lots of words and actions, and overly busy. In a world of hectic, often thoughtless, activity, worship invites us to slow down, embrace silence and reflection, and make our choices carefully before we return to the routines of our lives. It may feel unfamiliar to enter worship in this way, but if we take God’s eternal perspective seriously, and if we really want to move into a deeper connection with God, ourselves and others, we will find that it is the silence and the slowness that meets the longings of our hearts.

Choosing To Respond

If my family ever want to make me insecure or upset, all they need do is refuse to respond when I try to connect with them. In the early years of our marriage, whenever Debbie and I had one of those tough conversations, she would clam up. In her family little direct confrontation was done, and so my forthrightness would often leave her silent as she tried to work out how best to respond. For her it was an attempt to create space so that she could reply thoughtfully. For me it felt like rejection and I would get increasingly upset as the silence stretched out, which, of course, only made it last even longer. Over the years, though, I have learned to see Debbie’s silence not as disengagement, but as a way to deeper engagement, and she has learned to reassure me with a few words that let me know she’s still with me.

In my work as a Methodist minister I have seen the lack of response used in relationships as a passive-aggressive strategy to “get under the skin” of a partner or friend. Disengagement gives us the power of control over the relationship, and leaves the other person powerless to make us connect. However, this refusal to engage seldom brings good outcomes. There may be times when it is wise to move away from one another and create space to think about how to respond, but this is not disengagement. It is engagement in a more careful way. When we disengage in order to hurt, manipulate or punish another person, the relationship is always set back, and trust is damaged.

The same is true of our relationship with God. I recognise that for many people the feeling of being abandoned by God can be very real and painful. The truth, though, is that God has promised to always stay connected with us. In Isaiah 49 the prophet speaks to the people of God in exile who were complaining that God had abandoned them. Into this place of pain Isaiah shares these words:

“Can a mother forget her nursing child? Can she feel no love for the child she has borne? But even if that were possible, I would not forget you! See, I have written your name on the palms of My hands.” (Isaiah 49:15,16 NLT).

Once we know that God is always reaching out to us in love and grace, we have a choice to make. We can decide to shut ourselves off to God’s approaches, or we can take a step of faith, trust in God’s availability, and respond. One of the best ways to learn to engage in this “dialogue” with God is in the act of worship. Before rushing out of the sanctuary into the rest of our lives, we can take note of how God has reached out to us, and we can commit to one or two significant actions of response to take with us. It may be helpful to have a small symbol or ritual that reminds us, through the week, of our chosen response. Lighting a candle, or carrying a small meaningful object can be very helpful.

God is always seeking to connect with us. When we doubt this, it’s important to remember God’s promise, and take a moment to intentionally open to God’s grace. Then, we need to make the choice to respond. It may not always feel like it’s helping. It may even feel like hard work. But, if we’re willing to trust God’s promise and take the step of faith, we will always find that it was worth it. So, how can you choose to respond to God today?

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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.

Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.

Awaiting Your Reply

Back in the eighties when I was a teenager, I used to love listening to a particular song by The Resurrection Band called “Awaiting Your Reply”. I remember being touched by the idea that God was communicating with me and awaiting a reply – a response – from me. Perhaps that’s why I have always found myself seeking for ways to create moments of response in worship gatherings, and why I have so often found these moments to be the most significant.

A few years ago, during Holy Week, I worked with a team to create a series of worship gatherings focussed on the work of Christ through the cross. On the first night, which was entitled “If Only I Could Start Again” we gave every person a silver coin. As the worship progressed, we witnessed through drama and Scripture and poetry and music Peter’s denial and Judas’ betrayal of Christ. Finally, in a moment of confession we invited people to come forward and drop their coins into hollow crosses that we had had made for the purpose. As music gently played in the background and the sound of dropping coins filled the sanctuary, I saw some people weeping, some praying and some filled with joy and relief. It was a powerful moment of worshipful response.

A few days later I learned from someone in our counselling centre that a woman had arrived the next day asking to see a counsellor. She had been in the service, and during the confession ritual, had held her silver coin with a burning grief and anger in her heart. The reason was that she had recently learned that her young daughter had been abused by a family member, and she was angry at God for allowing this to happen, and grieving for her daughter’s pain and loss of innocence. Then, she suddenly had a memory of a verse in the Bible saying something about redeeming a child with a piece of silver. In that moment she asked God to allow her silver coin, in some way, to be a redemption for her daughter. Then, as she came forward and dropped her coin into the cross, she felt the anger and grief inside of her break, and the first small signs of healing begin. She had come to our counselling centre seeking to continue the work that had begun with her response to God in worship.

In my experience God is always awaiting our reply. As we gather for worship, God speaks and acts, drawing us into intimacy with God’s self. But, for that intimacy to grow and deepen, we need to respond. For the worship encounter to change us in any way, we need to respond. For our worship to overflow from the sanctuary into the rest of our lives, we need to respond.

One common act of response that is used in many churches is the “altar call”, where people are invited to come to the front for prayer or to show a public commitment. Altar calls can be deeply moving, healing and transforming for many people, but they are not the only way to create moments of response. Sometimes a simple prayer, a time of silence, a symbolic act (like the coins and crosses), the sacrament of Holy Communion, or a carefully chosen song can be an equally powerful act of response. The important thing is not how we respond, but that we respond.

This response does not only happen on Sundays, of course. The response in a worship gathering is simply a way of learning how to respond to God all the time and in every place – because God is always speaking, always acting, and always awaiting your reply.

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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.

Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.

Life As Prayer

A few years ago I was talking with a man who had joined a new church after going through a really tough time in his life. I asked how he was doing, and how he was settling in with his new community. His response shocked and saddened me. “This church rocks,” he said. “When I was struggling, in my old church they just said, ‘we’ll pray for you’. But, when I struggle here, people talk to me, and bring me food, and visit me!”

I must confess that it is exactly this all-too-common reality that has left me wondering about the usefulness of prayer. I have, unfortunately, seen too many hurting people left in their misery with nothing more than an assurance that “we’ll pray for you.” It reminds me of James’ words in Chapter 2 verse 14-16:

What good is it, dear brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but don't show it by your actions? Can that kind of faith save anyone? Suppose you see a brother or sister who has no food or clothing, and you say, "Good-bye and have a good day; stay warm and eat well"—but then you don't give that person any food or clothing. What good does that do?” (NLT)

When we say “I’ll pray for you” but leave it at that, we’re doing exactly what James critiques so strongly here. If prayer is used as an excuse not to get involved, our prayer has ceased to be prayer at all. But, when our prayer leads us to engage the world more compassionately, more practically, and more justly, then we have prayed well.

But, for our prayer to become a way of engaging the world, rather than an escape from it, requires us to revisit our understanding of prayer. Many of us have learned to see prayer something we “say” as opposed to something we “do”. We define prayer as “talking to God” about things. But, to view prayer this way makes Paul’s command to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) both impossible and ridiculous. If Christians spent their entire lives talking to God, sleep, conversation with anyone else, and any activity that made speech (or directed thought) impossible would be out of bounds for us. This idea of prayer as “talking to God” has also resulted in huge controversies, especially in schools, in some parts of the world. When, out of respect for those who hold different beliefs, Christians are instructed not to pray, we can only be offended if we view prayer as words that must be spoken.

But, this is not the way the Scriptures view prayer. Richard Rohr describes biblical prayer in a profound and helpful way. “We pray always whenever we act in conscious & loving union with God, which eventually can be all the time—even in our sleep!” (From his Daily Meditations email of 31 August 2011). There is no law that can stop anyone from doing this in a school, or anywhere else. There is no situation in which anyone, whether a person of faith or not, would be offended by someone praying like this. This kind of prayer is active, engaged and connected. We pray when we look for, and point out, the signs of hope in our world. We pray when we serve others with compassion and humility, when we preserve their dignity and bring them life and peace. We pray when we engage the world with compassion, not judgement, and when we cooperate, in word, action, attitude, values and thought, with the principles and purposes of God’s reign.

Which is why we need the discipline of worship to teach us to pray. It is in worship that God’s reign fills our vision, and God’s purpose captures our hearts. Worship helps us understand what God seeks to do in our world, and what we need to do to participate. Worship teaches us that prayer is not just something we say, but something we are. Keith Green got it absolutely right when he sang, “Make my life a prayer for you…”

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John van de Laar is a Methodist minister, liturgical consultant and the author of the book Food for the Road – Life Lesson from the Lord’s Table. He holds a Master’s Degree in theology from UNISA, and is the founder of Sacredise.com, an international worship training and resourcing ministry. John is married to Debbie, and they have two sons.

Visit www.sacredise.com for more articles by John, as well as resources for personal and public worship – music, prayers, liturgies, images and drama scripts.

Making Prayer “Work”?

It was nearly the end of our Sunday evening service when I heard a crash from the kitchen. As soon as the benediction was spoken, I was called out of the sanctuary to pray with the woman who had been preparing the post-service tea. The crash had been the falling urn of boiling water, which had spilled its load over her front. She was clearly in pain and shock, waiting for her husband to get the car to take her to the hospital. As we waited with her a group of us knelt and prayed for healing.

The initial results of this prayer seemed almost miraculous, and we began to wonder if perhaps our prayers had ‘worked’. Then, in the days that followed, we realised that she had been severely injured in the accident, that a series of skin grafts would be necessary, and that our prayers had not brought on the miracle for which we had hoped. For some of the people in the group, this was a significant crisis of faith, and they questioned why God had not ‘heard our prayers’.

Over the years I have grown more than a little uncomfortable with some of the language we use for prayer. We talk about prayer ‘working’ as if it’s an appliance we just need to turn on for a particular task. When what we ask for happens, we say that God has ‘heard our prayers,’ as if God sometimes turns a deaf ear and ignores our requests, causing them not to be ‘answered’. We tend to think of prayer as a way to get God to do things ‘for us’, or to do things ‘to’ other people and situations. John Wesley is even quoted as saying that “God does nothing except in answer to believing prayer”. Yet, this view of prayer has created more than a few problems for us as Christ-followers, and has brought about the end of faith for more than a few believers.

For the record, I believe in prayer with all my heart. I have seen some dramatic changes in people’s lives that can only be connected to times spent in prayer together. But, the problem is that we don’t know when prayer will help and when it won’t. We can’t explain why God seems to “intervene” dramatically to save and heal some people, and doesn’t seem to act at all for others. And this is where, I believe, our language breaks down. We have become so focussed on “results” in prayer, that I believe we may have lost the essence of prayer in the process. This may be why some of us struggle with prayer so much. It is also why I believe that the practice of intercession is such a crucial part of our worship.

When we place intercessory prayer in the context of an encounter with God, then we begin to speak and think about prayer differently. In the context of worship we recognise that God is always at work in every situation and every life – so we do not need to ‘manipulate’ or convince God to act. In the context of worship we recognise that prayer is not about changing God, but about changing us – shifting us out of our own limited perspectives on the world and its struggles, and into a divine orientation. In the context of worship we worry less about whether prayer ‘works’ and more about how we can work to respond to the situations and people for which we have been moved to pray.

I wonder how different our lives of prayer would be if we approached intercession in this way? I wonder how different our worship might be if we opened ourselves to be changed by what we pray so that we might live it out each day. As my friend Taylor Burton-Edwards (of the General Board of Discipleship of the United Methodist Church) says: “The question is not, ‘Do we pray well?’ The question is, ‘Do we live well what we pray?’”

Connected

When I was a student at university it was common to hear worship leaders say, “Just get in a cocoon with Jesus. Don’t worry about anyone else. It’s just you and Jesus – that’s all you need to worry about.” Over the years I have heard similar sentiments repeated many times from worship leaders and conference speakers, and I have become increasingly uncomfortable with this instruction. Nevertheless, the impact this way of approaching worship has had on the Church is reflected in the lyrics of most contemporary hymns. The use of the singular pronoun ‘I’ rather than the plural ‘we’ is overwhelming, and it reveals a deep and disturbing individualism in our worship and our faith.

Perhaps this is why prayer is such a difficult practice. In many ways our worship has been equated with music, and I have heard internationally respected worship leaders teach that it is the pastor’s job to pray, not the worship leader’s. Which may be why I seldom hear prayers of any depth or creativity in contemporary “non-liturgical” worship, if I hear prayers at all.

Nowhere is this truer than in the case of intercession. In many ways we have begun to treat worship as an escape from the world and its struggles, which means that intercession – which should draw our attention more clearly to the pain of our existence – has no place. The result is that we easily slip into a comfortable, self-indulgent worship practice which requires no connection with anyone else, and demands no awareness of the world or compassion for its suffering. But, an individualist, escapist, indulgent religion is not worship. It’s narcissism.

If we are to be healthy human beings, and true followers of Christ, the uncomfortable practice of intercession is an essential ingredient in our spirituality – not least because it reminds us that we are connected. Jesus knew this, which is why he taught that when two or three agree on anything they ask, it will be done for them (Matthew 18:19).

When we pray, we cannot help but be connected with those for whom we intercede – for the world in which we live, and its places of suffering and conflict and need. More than this, when we pray, we are connected with those with whom we intercede. It is impossible to pray for the world and its peoples effectively on our own. At the very least we need to be informed of what is going on through newspapers, blog posts or Twitter feeds – all of which requires us to be connected with others. In addition, if our prayers are to be effective, we need the different perspectives that can only be discovered in community. When I pray alone, I have only my ideas. But, when I join with others, I am forced to see things from a wider perspective – which can only make my prayer both more effective and more challenging. And, of course, if we are to pray well we must think of ourselves as potential answers to our own requests – and to do this, we need to be connected into a community that has resources and networks beyond our own little circles.

But, here’s the problem – and the glory, of all of this connectedness. It takes humility and courage to acknowledge our interdependence in this way. When I pray for others, I also implicitly acknowledge that I need them to pray for me. Which means that I have to acknowledge that I am not self-sufficient, but interdependent – that I need others, even as they need me. This can be frightening, but, if we are willing to risk it, we may just discover not just a new power in prayer, but a new engagement with life that changes us and invites us into a sense of belonging and a vibrancy of living that we had not imagined before.