Where credit is due
I have always believed that the deepest, truest worship cannot be "worked up." I think much of what passes for worship in our contemporary church setting should really be classified as just so much religion. Religion in the sense of "doing what we do". Worship music is one of the things "we do," whether we feel like doing it or not. (Please tell me I'm not the only one who's been there!) To not "do it" is to shirk a responsibility, or to let someone, if not the whole group, down.
I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. Discipline is necessary for an effective Christian life, and they wouldn't call it discipline there wasn't some effort involved. But I don't want to talk about that right now.
I want to talk about those times when worship flows from an intense realization of the vastness of God and his creation. One such time for me is during a thunderstorm. It's during a thunderstorm that I most effectively realize just how much I matter, or more precisely, how much I don't matter. Last night, while driving home, I saw the top of a thunderhead in the northeastern sky. As I looked closer, I could see almost the entire storm. When I got home, out of curiosity, I looked at a radar site to see if I could place the storm on the map, and I was surprised to find that the storm I had just seen was nearly 150 miles away! In that moment, I was impressed once again with just how large-scale the earth could be, and therefore, just how much bigger the solar system must be. Yet our solar system is but a speck in our galaxy, and our galaxy is one of an uncountable number of galaxies in the known universe. And to think of the One who created it all put me in a state of true worship. I wasn't singing - quite frankly, singing a trite little worship tune would have spoiled the moment. I wasn't doing anything but pondering the vastness of God. I wish I could learn to manufacture these sorts of moments for myself, but alas, I suspect that their scarcity only adds to their quality.
Lord, show me Your glory.