Pretty much any other time of year I'm an electric bass wielding, hands in the air kind of guy. I love loud, rockin' worship music. When I'm synced with my drummer and the notes are flowing, there is space for God to reach me in the noise.
But there's something about Advent that draws me into stillness, and into quiet places of worship. This is what I mean by saying I get a little homesick.
Growing up, my family moved around a lot. I went to something like eight different schools in twelve years. After high school I enlisted in the Navy and spent four years moving around a lot. As a result, I can't stay anywhere for much longer than three or four years before I get the itch to move. This is one of the good things about being an itinerant pastor and a military chaplain. I get to move. A lot. So when I say that I get homesick, it's not for a place. I miss my family. I miss them a lot. But "home" is not a geographic location for me. My heart does not pine for northwest Indiana or a specific house in that town.
My heart pines for an experience of the Holy. My heart pines for peace. In the stillness and in the quiet places of Advent Liturgy, there is space for God to reach me in a way that noise and rockin' worship music cannot touch.
Which always leaves me with the dilemma of finding a middle road for the folks who still love it loud and my own needs. I struggle with balance in this season because, like most pastors, I am so busy that if I do not stay plugged in, I run spiritually dry and am not of use to anyone.
So if you're reading this and you are not a pastor, or involved in worship leadership, please take care of those who are. Know that we have needs that go beyond keeping others full, and to keep others full we need to stay spiritually connected ourselves. And sometimes what we need and what others need are not the same thing.
O come, O come, Emmanuel.
No comments:
Post a Comment