Home > Pastor's Corner > Pastor's Letter > 2007 Letter Archives
Our Pastor's monthly letters from Covenant's newsletter, archived here for your reference. In July 2007, Rev. Phil Ayers started at Covenant; letters prior to July are from Rev. Ed Moore.
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One of the gifts I received for Christmas in 2005 (yes, last year) was a copy of George Marsden's excellent new biography of the great American preacher, Jonathan Edwards. Edwards, often best remembered for one sermon, Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God (atypical of his work) [read it here at ccel.org, or listen to it in mp3 format here from sermonindex.net], is acknowledged by most historians to be one of the greatest minds ever produced in America. Ahead of his time in many ways, he knew in the mid-eighteenth century that what we believe is determined largely by what we sense and that our senses have serious limitations. What do we disbelieve, Edwards wondered, simply because we cannot see or hear well enough? Put in modern language, just how clueless are we about what really is there, just outside our visual or auditory spectrum?
I recalled Edwards' question shortly before Christmas while Mary and I were attending a performance of Handel's Messiah at National Cathedral. One section of Messiah is based upon St. Paul's prophecy in I Corinthians 15:52. "The trumpet shall sound," at the end of time, writes Paul, "and the dead shall be raised incorruptible . . . and we shall be changed." The trumpet solo Handel wrote soared through the Cathedral, brilliant and clear, and it was not difficult to imagine the music summoning the day for which Paul longed two thousand years ago.
One of the reasons some people feel despondent - even depressed - during the winter months is because the celebration of Christmas is over and we're left with gray skies, little sunlight and abundant slush. Messiah is shelved until next Advent (save for the Hallelujah Chorus, which appears at Easter), and that piercing, transcendent trumpet lies silent. Or does it?
Basic to our understanding of the Incarnation is the conviction that the end of time began at Bethlehem. The trumpet started to sound when Gabriel visited Mary, Jesus' mother, and reached a crescendo when Mary Magdalene found the tomb empty. That note of victory continues to sound beneath and behind all that we know as human history. But sometimes we just don't have the ears to hear it. As Jonathan Edwards suspected, we disbelieve because the trumpet solo lies just beyond our auditory spectrum.
But the score for the sacred sound is still there, in I Corinthians 15. The prophecy is still there in all its potency. "The trumpet shall sound," Paul's words resonate down the centuries, "and the dead shall be raised incorruptible . . . and we shall be changed." In the slush, the dimness and the cold of post-Christmas winter, may the Spirit unstop our ears, expand the spectrum we can hear. The musical accompaniment for Paul's words is out of this world. For now . . .
Grace and Peace,
Ed Moore
Pastor
Much of Jesus' ministry is grounded in stewardship. The parable of Good Samaritan teaches the imperative of caring for those who are hurting - whether friend or un-friend - because the life they have is a gift from God, just like our own. When he fed the 5,000 with a few loaves and fishes, the Lord showed what can happen when we give what we have into God's hands for his management. Calling most of his apostles from the ranks of the untutored, Jesus enabled them to summon up resources they never imagined they possessed. The Spirit used them to build the early Christian community.
Stewardship, as used in the church, sometimes becomes synonymous with financial support, thought that is only one of its dimensions. Stewardship really means the faithful use of all the resources God has given us: money, time, energy, and skills, to name but a few. People who are excellent teachers are under obligation, the obligation of stewards, to offer that gift for the upbuilding of the church. The same obligation extends to carpenters, singers, and folks who have the gift of comforting the hurting. Stewardship is Pentecostal - it speaks many languages.
Our worship time, church building and staff are resources for which we are held accountable: are we making the very best, faithful use we can of each of these for the proclamation of the Gospel? Are we doing all we can with these gifts to further Covenant's mission, the making of disciples of Jesus Christ? Those are questions of stewardship, not just management.
At a recent Church Council meeting I shared with our leaders a concern that some folks in the congregation have expressed. Is our Sunday morning schedule the one we ought to have? Does our present schedule make the best use of our resources, fulfill our obligations as stewards, and honor our congregation's mission? Or is there a better way to order our Sunday mornings?
Think and pray on this, please. And, as you do, ask the Spirit's leading, remembering our call to make disciples. How best may we do that? We'll have some conversations to share views on this aspect of our stewardship. I hope you'll attend one.
Grace and Peace,
Ed Moore
Pastor
I recently read about a bloke in England - aren't all blokes English - who has hit upon a novel addendum to the wedding catering business. He has invented an inflatable church, which can be transported by truck (lorrie) to a couple's desired wedding site, then puffed up for the service (www.inflateablechurch.com). The website says that the church's name can be altered to fit the occasion, too. If the couple getting married are Stephen and Anne, for example, the wee kirk can be named Saints Stephen & Anne for the duration of the rental. Far cheaper than fronting the considerable cost of having a traditional church edifice named after you. And you thought the most creative marketing was American!
Perhaps the bloke is really onto something theological here (I'll resist the temptation to make an analogy between his air compressor and the Holy Spirit). What's he's really offering, you see, is the opportunity to consecrate, temporarily, any territory you prefer. Always wanted to have the back yard set aside as holy for an afternoon? Just lorrie in the inflatable church, plug in the pump, and watch the miracle unfold (and rise to a height of nearly forty feet). When the holiness becomes inconvenient, or the space is needed for something else, pull the plug and the sanctuary hisses down to a pile of plastic. In comes the lorrie, and you're relieved of all the inconveniences of holiness. Cards accepted.
I believe some folks, sadly, understand Lent as a spot (in the British sense) of holiness the church delivers each year, sets up for a time, then packs away ‘til the next gig. When Lent comes ‘round, I'm reminded that there's something sinful about me, subjected to a series of increasingly distressing stories about Jesus' betrayal, arrest and crucifixion, then permitted to bask in the warm glow of Easter, when all the penitential purple becomes victorious white. The plug's been pulled on Lent, and it's packed away once more. Draw a pint and celebrate!
But Lent's not really like that. Like Advent, it is meant to remind us of the perpetual struggle humanity confronts in its journey to recover the lost image of God, and of God's gracious presence all along the way of that pilgrimage. My sin is not centered in the few weeks prior to Easter, nor is God's redemption limited to the joy of Easter morning. My sin is basic to my humanity. It distorts my relationships, my hearing of God's Word, and my responses to the needs of others. God's grace, through the Spirit, meets me in the midst of this sinfulness every day, charting a holy way through my lostness. The holiness goes everywhere my sin does; grace doesn't do the backyard just for an afternoon. That's the Good News.
See you in church during Lent. And at Easter.
Grace and Peace,
Ed Moore
Pastor
One of the screensavers on my office computer is a close-up shot of a beautifully carved wooden angel who watches over the congregation at Duke University Chapel. She is a breathtaking work of art, and I can only marvel at the skill of the woodcarver who liberated her from the wooden block that, for a long time, hid her from view. She was, you see, already present in the wood: the artist carved away the excess and set her free. I suppose, in any decently sized tree trunk, there must be an entire choir of angels yearning to take flight.
Great artists often remark that they can see the figure imprisoned within wood or stone, needing only a bit of chiseling to become visible. Michelangelo said as much when he carved his great statue of David from a huge block of white marble. Leonardo DaVinci claimed he had seen his painting of The Last Supper on the monastery wall and used his brushes to make it visible to everyone else. Mozart apparently heard glorious music in his mind’s ear, and then wrote the score, as if by dictation. His contemporary, the composer Antonio Salieri, may have been driven mad by Mozart’s unearthly “gift.” The great photographer Ansel Adams visited the same sites over and over until, finally, mountains; light and mist cooperated to yield just the composition he had already envisioned. He only pressed the shutter, you see.
John the Gospel writer often uses the word glory in gloriously enigmatic ways. Of Jesus’ first sign – turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana – John says, “Jesus did this . . . and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” In John 11 Jesus asks Lazarus’ sister, Martha, “Did I not tell you that, if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” The night of his betrayal, recorded in John 17, Jesus prays repeatedly that his followers will perceive his glory, even as the crucifixion unfolds. When Judas leaves the Last Supper to betray him, the Lord remarks, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified.”
Scholars and preachers have spent two thousand years trying to fathom what John meant by this language. How is Jesus “glorified” the moment Judas leaves the room to betray him? Where, exactly, does this glory reside? How is it visible?
It just may be that Lent asks of us the same insight – literally – that empowers an artist to see an angel in a tree trunk or a beautiful figure deep in a slab of stone. We’re asked, by the Holy Spirit, to see in the journey to the cross, a victorious march toward the New Jerusalem: it really is already there, obscured for the moment by excess that must be burned away before the glory appears. Or, using Mozart as benchmark, the anthems of resurrection are already being sung at the crucifixion. You need only listen in a different key, on a new frequency. Pity Salieri, who can hear only Pontius Pilate’s hammers.
The glory is already there. I’ve got an angel on my computer screen to prove it.
Grace and Peace,
Ed Moore
Pastor
Not long ago I ran across one of those old detective movies from the 1930's, filmed in black and white. All the guys wore fedoras, drove huge Packards, and spent long hours in diners drinking cups of "jo" (coffee). The women - "dames" - were equally cliché, though with far better hats, and were easily the guys' peers in following the clues to solve the crime. One of the "dames," in fact, had to point out to the guys that a photograph obviously had been faked. Peering at a glossy through a magnifying glass, she announced that someone had done a cut and paste job, making it appear as if a "hood" had an alibi, when he really didn't! Voila, the crime was solved! By a dame in a stylish hat!
Alas, technology (and the disappearance of really good hats) has made this kind of detective work obsolete. I recently read that digital photography and the various software tools that enable us to process pix on our computers make it almost impossible to determine whether or not a photo has been altered. The more refined tools let us edit photos pixel by pixel to create pictures of events that never really happened, or to make it appear, seamlessly, that some "hood" received a Nobel Prize. And no magnifying glass - or even much more refined investigative technique - can spot the fake.
When we're young, we tend to image God as a larger-than-life human, a process theologians call anthropomorphism. There's seldom anything harmful in this since, when we're young, we cannot process metaphor or abstraction. Therefore, God must be like us, only more so, and we project onto God the usual human attributes: moods, emotions, bad hair days, and the like. Even the Biblical writers occasionally engage in this sort of projection, so in Genesis we find the " LORD God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze," just as would any ancient middle eastern potentate (Gen 3:8).
As we mature in the faith, we look back on that early belief and see the fault lines, the cut and paste we did to make the image of God fit the contours of our young minds. We were children so we "thought like a child," as St. Paul himself confessed. Nothing wrong with that. I wonder, though, if adulthood doesn't sometimes equip us to create pixel perfect mistaken images of God, so seamlessly contrived and artfully crafted that we cannot see the deception in the midst of the picture. We've accumulated sophisticated mental software and can manipulate the bits of the image such that no amount of detective work can spot the fraud. Not even a bright dame with a magnifying glass.
Perhaps this is how we end up convinced that God mirrors our politics, waves our flag, underwrites our economics, baptizes our belligerence. We create a picture of an event that never really happened - God signing on to our agenda - and do it so seamlessly that we then believe the false photo. Not a single fault line visible!
In this post Easter season, we do well to remember that resurrection is inseparable from Jesus. It is He who was raised: healer, feeder of the hungry, hugger of lepers, lover of the least, Lord of a Kingdom "not of this world," as he told Pilate. That's the real photo, stark and unedited. Gives one pause, doesn't it?
Grace and Peace,
Ed Moore
One of my favorite Old Testament passages is in Genesis 12, where the Lord comes to Abraham and Sarah and asks them to move from the familiar and the comfortable to a new place, a place the Lord will show them after they've plucked up their tent stakes and begun to move. If you trust me on this journey, the Lord says, "in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." Abraham and Sarah got up and went. And from them, eventually, came the Christ and resurrection. But they had to move first.
When Mary was offered the position at Elon several months ago, she and I began to weigh all the pros and cons of moving. For her it would be a move within her profession: she has been in higher education for a long time. For me, though, it would mean leaving the pastoral ministry after about thirty years in local churches. We decided to move.
Part of my reflection - of course - centered around my seven years here at Covenant. Gradually I came to the conclusion that Covenant would best be served by a change in pastors, and that significantly informed our decision to move to North Carolina. You see, I'm convinced that Covenant needs to hear what the Lord said to Abraham and Sarah, else its future will be fragile at best. I'm further convinced that another pastor will better enable the hearing of that imperative Word. The strengths I bring to ministry (yes, I think I know what they are, and are not) are not, in my view, the ones that are most needed at Covenant in its present journey; they're not even the ones that will facilitate the plucking up of our beloved tent stakes.
I have frequent opportunities to speak with other pastors, and those conversations convince me that Covenant already has strengths that are lacking in many other United Methodist congregations. Folks who choose to become members here always remark that the friendliness and hospitality they found at Covenant helped convince them to make this their church home. Quality Sunday School and our excellent nursery are mentioned as well. Other congregations just cannot seem to carry off these ministries as well as we do. We need to be thankful for these strengths, and for the folks who sustain them.
But there must be a plucking up of tent stakes, while retaining what is already excellent. That is where a change in pastoral leadership can be a blessing. Our United Methodist way of sending pastors to local churches can be especially effective at a time like this, and I believe it has functioned well for Covenant in the appointment of the Reverend Phil Ayers. He comes to CUMC after ten years of exceptionally effective leadership in another congregation, an expert in identifying the tent stakes that need plucking.
Please keep Mary and me in your prayers, as we will keep you in ours. I'll be teaching Religion 101 to freshmen at Elon next fall and attempting to complete a couple of publishing projects that have lain dormant. I may talk with the folk in the North Carolina Annual Conference about serving a local church part-time in 2008; we'll see how other things go first. For now, the Lord be with you! You know the response to that, right?
Ed Moore
My Brothers and Sisters of Covenant United Methodist Church, it is good to be home. As the newly appointed pastor of this Charge, I am thrilled to have the opportunity to be part of your rich history and faithful Christian witness. I look forward to many years of exciting ministry with you.
You might wonder why I referred to this new appointment as “home.” There are two explanations to that statement. First, I am deeply influenced by the spirituality of native people to this land, particularly the teachings of the Lakota (known also as the Sioux). It is the belief of the Lakota that wherever we live is the center of the universe, and the Creator dwells with us constantly. In that respect, we are always at home, for we live in harmony with our source of being. In the coming years, you will hear more about that spirituality.
Second, I type these words at my home office in Mt. Airy, Maryland. This is the town in which I grew up. I left this area 30 years ago to attend college, graduate school, enter a vocation as a minister, marry, start a family, and discern God’s plan for me. After 30 years I have returned home to continue my ministry in the church. Being appointed to Covenant United Methodist Church is truly a dream come true.
There have been countless other side journeys during those thirty years, but those are some of the highlights. Now I look forward to the discipleship journey that stands before us at Covenant UMC. I am overwhelmed by the graciousness demonstrated by the people of Covenant. God has truly blessed this congregation, and God’s grace has been extended to me with the opportunity to join you in your walk of faith.
God’s blessings to you always,
Phil Ayers
Allow me to offer a condensed version of these past thirty years.
I graduated from South Carroll High School in Carroll County. While a student there, I was accepted into the Preparatory Department of Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore. I studied organ, piano, harpsichord and music theory in the evenings and on Saturdays. I was a student at Peabody for four years, and at that time I dreamt of being a professional organist.
Following high school I attended Shenandoah College and Conservatory of Music in Winchester, Virginia. During my sophomore year I discerned a call to ministry, and changed my major from Sacred Music/Music Education to Philosophy and Religion. Upon graduation I was accepted at Vanderbilt Divinity School in Nashville, Tennessee. At that time I felt God had called me to minister as a musician trained in theology. With that in mind I served for two years as the Student Intern in the section on Worship of the Board of Discipleship of the United Methodist Church. In my role as Assistant to Dr. Hoyt Hickman, I researched the liturgies and hymns that now comprise the United Methodist Hymnal and Book of Worship. During my time in Tennessee I received my first appointment as a Student Pastor–to serve a six-point charge. I also married during that time.
After three years there, I received an opportunity to serve in this Annual Conference, and moved to Trinity UMC in Frederick. At that appointment I served as Associate Minister/Minister of Music. I also ministered to homeless and transient people. At the same time, I finished my schooling at Wesley Seminary. It was during this period of eight years that I became a father, and 18 months later a single parent.
From Trinity UMC, I was appointed to Hyattstown UMC. I served in Hyattstown for five delightful years. During that time I married and became the father of four very entertaining sons. My wife Kay deserves a medal for tolerating all of us men in the family.
I was appointed to Mt. Zion UMC in Mechanicsville in 1997. My mission there was to assist in the building of a new fellowship facility. During the first seven years at that appointment we were blessed to have the means to renovate the existing facilities, and add a wonderful Conference Center.
I have been a certified soccer official for the past eight years, and enjoy officiating recreational and travel leagues, as well as high school matches. I enjoy fly fishing, gourmet cooking, playing the piano and organ, and working in the yard. For the past nine years I have served as the Lead Chaplain for the St. Mary’s County Sheriff’s Department. In this role I periodically ride with deputies on duty, assist with death notifications, and crisis intervention. I am a strong supporter of scouting, children’s and youth ministry, and puppetry.
My wife, Kay, and I were married in 1993. We have a blended family made up of four sons, two grandsons, and two dogs. Our family is very close, and we spend as much time together as possible.
My deepest passion in the church is music and liturgical development. That passion comes from a life-long involvement in music. I love creativity in worship and ingenuity in polity. For the past two years I have been working with the Lay Leadership Development Team to design a new structure for committees in the local church, which emphasizes the Missional task of the community of faith.
I am a firm believer that congregations must minister to the community and world. I have been very active in the community in which I serve, working with the public school board, sheriff’s department, as well as local, state and federal government. This involvement has occurred by serving on numerous task forces and advisory boards. By understanding the community, I have been better able to assist the congregation in discerning ways to minister in a responsible manner.
Theologically I am probably considered slightly left of center. I prefer not to assign labels. Instead, I simply try to be as open as possible to different opinions and new ideas. It is my belief that we are all on a “discipleship adventure” which requires a broad spectrum of viewpoints. Everyone has ideas, and those ideas are important because they ultimately come from God. For that reason, I try to listen carefully so as to discern the movement of the Spirit.
I find change to be an experience that brings out my most creative ideas. I love excitement, laughter, good stories, classic jazz, and sushi. My sermons are narrative in style, with the sole purpose of discerning how scripture informs our life in the postmodern world. I am a high energy person who enjoys diving into ministry with both feet.
The opportunity of ministering with the people of Covenant United Methodist Church is an answer to prayer for me. It is my belief that we are called to mission by God. As an Elder, I was called to assist Mt. Zion UMC with a building program. That mission was accomplished three years ahead of schedule, and I felt that my gifts and graces were not being utilized to their fullest. In other words, we built a wonderful building and it was getting too comfortable. For that reason, I prayed for a new mission. Covenant UMC was God’s response to my prayer. Thank you for this wonderful opportunity and it is a joy to be part of your family.
Phi Ayers
Walls were of critical importance in the ancient world. The walls of a city symbolized the stability of that society. The citizens gained a sense of security and stability knowing that protective walls were in place to ward off enemies. In the case of ancient Jerusalem, the city walls also signaled to the world that God was present with the chosen people. In this respect, walls were of crucial importance for the faithful to live out a positive faith journey.
During the past month I have participated in numerous congregational conversations, committee meetings, individual meetings and informal discussions. Through these interactions it has become obvious that a sense of desolation and depression has overtaken a once thriving congregation. In a sense, it appears that the walls have been destroyed. Financial concerns plagued all discussions, and volunteers were few and far between. There seemed to be no sense of stability, and our communal faith journey was floundering.
In the midst of this transitional period I re-read the story of Nehemiah. God called Nehemiah out of Persian exile, during the reign of Artaxerxes, to rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. By employing all the people of Jerusalem, and relying totally on God's direction, the walls were rebuilt in 54 days. While there were difficulties along the way, the people were able to accomplish what most people would call a miracle.
Working from the inspiring story of Nehemiah, at Covenant Church we are going to enter into "The Nehemiah Mission" during the months of September and October. The mission will begin on September 3, and conclude on October 28. That is 56 days of intense mission work to rebuild the walls of Covenant. This time of mission will call each of us to re-examine our journey of faith. We will be called upon to deepen our stewardship of time, talent, resources, and spirituality so that we might be better disciples. On October 28 (Reformation Sunday) we will celebrate a re-formed congregation, and commit ourselves to greater service in God's Kingdom.
To some people this may seem ambitiously naïve. I would refer those detractors to the story of Nehemiah, who had detractors as well. Some will say it is impossible. Again, the story of Nehemiah answers your doubts. Covenant Church was placed in a strategic location to serve the community and world.
This congregation has also been blessed with countless gifts of ability and resources. It is our responsibility as disciples of Jesus Christ to respond to God's call and proclaim to the world that Covenant Church is secure in God's abiding presence.
Read the story of Nehemiah. Find your place in that story. Prepare for the mission that is to come. Allow God to speak to you, and through you. Together we will rebuild the walls and enter into a new day of mission as God's people.
Peace, Phil
The past two months have been a whirlwind of activity as I learn the various stories that makeup Covenant United Methodist Church. I must say, this time of transition has been given me some of the most exciting, and memorable events in my 25 years of ministry. While I have been trying to learn the story of Covenant, you have been learning my personal story.
As all stories have many plots and sub-plots, one aspect of my story concerns puppets. I thought that you might be interested how it was that I found a puppet on my hand in the chancel of a church.
Growing up I never really had an interest in puppets. I was more concerned with the Orioles (Brooks Robinson in particular), the music of Bach, and the albums of the group Yes. It was my senior year of undergraduate school when I found myself the only senior philosophy major. A required course titled “Philosophical Problems,” demanded that students debate various philosophical issues, and detail the logic to their argument. Unfortunately, I was the only student, which makes debate rather difficult.
Upon asking the advice of the professor as to how I might study for the class, my learned mentor suggested purchasing a puppet to practice the debates. After inquiring as to the mental health of my professor, I reluctantly went to a local store and purchased a grey hippopotamus puppet, which I affectionately named “Harry.” Then, in the quiet of my room, with a locked door to fend off any fraternity brothers who might see me talking to a puppet, I began debating philosophical problems with a hippopotamus. I received an “A” for the course, and kept Harry as a college remembrance.
Two years latter I found myself serving a six-point charge in Tennessee, and desperate about having to do a children’s sermon on Sunday morning. As a last resort I grabbed Harry, and mumbled through some sort of object lesson with the children. To my surprise, everyone loved the puppet. So, I decided to look into the idea, and began studying puppetry in earnest. I soon added Herman T. Fuzzball to my work, and the rest is history.
Over the past 25 years I have added numerous puppets to the family. At one point there were just over 60 puppets in my closet. That became a bit overwhelming, so I’ve cut back to about 10 regulars. Each puppet has a unique personality that evolves over time. Sometimes it takes years for me to be comfortable enough to use the puppet in public (Olivia took three years to develop).
While puppets are always lots of fun, they are used only as a tool for ministry. I have used puppet in hospitals, nursing homes, worship, camps, and pastoral counseling. I have also taught countless classes on puppetry, and the theology of children’s sermons. However, there are a few things that puppets never do:
- Puppets never preach or pray (puppets are not real, but preaching and prayer are)
- Puppets never hit, bite, or scare people
- Puppets never teach lessons that are contrary to scripture
- Puppets never replace the need for human interaction
Many people have asked which puppet is my favorite, and the answer is rather complicated. My favorite puppet to work with in worship is Olivia the Ostrich. My favorite puppet to practice with is Herman T. Fuzzball. The puppet I find it easiest to work with is Mr. Fudd.
When Mr. Fudd and I met up in 1995, his voice and personality seemed obvious. It was the only time in my experience as a puppeteer that a puppet’s voice and personality were immediately present.
Eventually it realized that Mr. Fudd’s character traits were actually those of my father. He says what he thinks, and is not worried about what people say concerning his opinion. At the same time Mr. Fudd is a deeply compassionate puppet.
My sincere hope is that when I reach Mr. Fudd’s age (older than dirt) I will be just like him.
Pastor Ayers
Recently I have been asked what my opinion is concerning applause in worship. Some folks have been surprised by my response, and I thought an explanation was in order. During worship, I don’t think applause is appropriate at all; however, I feel that clapping hands is very appropriate. Some have suggested those two actions are identical, but I am of a different opinion.
My understanding of applause is that it is an audible recognition of a performance of some sort. In the secular world applause is heard for any sort of activity. It is way of showing appreciation to someone for their work. Applause is something that most people appreciate, and seek in their life. We all like to be appreciated for our work, and public affirmation makes us feel good.
Worship is a different activity in which we humans become secondary in the activity. Our worship of God should be seen as an offering to the source of our life. Therefore, the liturgy provides a means for our actions to be presented to God in response to the amazing grace we have been offered. Everything we do in worship is done to praise God. For this reason, to applaud human effort seems inappropriate. However, saying “yes” to the liturgical action is something that scripture encourages us to do.
How, then, do we say “yes” in worship? The answer is quite scriptural. If we examine the psalms we read of all creation being told to praise God. Trees are even told to clap their hands. Some refer to this activity as “the great amen.” This is a unified statement of “yes” to an action which offers thanks to God in response to God’s actions toward us.
When we clap our hands in church we are agreeing with the offering of praise that has been presented to God. The liturgy of worship is not about us at all. All that we do in the liturgy is about God. We might be moved spiritually. We might be impacted emotionally. Our faith might be strengthened. But the primary reason we worship is to present our offering to God. If we affirm an offering to God we might say “amen,” or shout “hallelujah.” There may be tears of compassion that cleanse our soul. We might even be led to clap our hands. But in all we do, let us praise God with all our heart, soul, mind and body. Let us offer a sacrifice of praise to the source of our being. Clap your hands, and give thanks!
Shalom,
Phil
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