Praising God, giving Him glory—it’s optional, right?

It's something we do on Sunday mornings or when we hike up mountains or saunter down a beach at sunset. Praise is the thing you do when you feel especially close to God or grateful for something He's done— like a Thanksgiving family gathering, right?

Yes, but…

Psalm 29:2 says we are to “Ascribe to the LORD the glory due His name.” Nothing was mentioned there about our mood or happiness quotient. Nothing to suggest that giving God glory is contingent upon our satisfaction with our circumstances, the weather, or the Almighty Himself. It just says, "Ascribe to the LORD the glory due His name."

Truthfully, many of us have assumed an “optionality” to praise. We do it when we feel like it. And pat ourselves on the back for having done so.

But consider…

• When the library book is due, you'd better bring it back.
• When the rent payment is due, you'd better deliver!
• Term paper due? Best get it done before your grade takes a hit. 

If you've ever forgotten to pay your utility bill or missed a mortgage installment, you know what happens. Your obligation becomes "past due"—and often there's a penalty!

How much more, then, is it incumbent upon us to give God the glory due His name? Come to think of it, how much glory do you suppose is due His name?

• Glory for illuminating our Milky Way galaxy with a hundred billion stars…
• Glory for creating massive mammals (blue whales grow longer than 100 feet and weigh 200 tons!) as well as infinitesimal insects like mites, aphids, and fairy wasps
• Glory for creating human babies who start walking and talking in merely one year
• Glory for sending Jesus, the perfect Son, who lived a perfect life only to die so we could be perfectly forgiven

There is more glory due His name than there are pages to assemble a list.

Glory is due. In fact, I dare say, it’s past due! So, I ask again. Are we giving God that glory—the glory due His name?

What’s keeping us from starting?

As a kindergartner in Romania during the Communist era, Cristina remembers her teacher asking, “How many of you kids go to church?” Brave Cristina stepped forward—alone. The teacher then reamed her out in front of the entire class. "Never, ever go to church again!" she demanded. Cristina protested, "But my parents go to church."

As often happens, word of Cristina’s brave classroom stand got around. A school caretaker named Natalie later approached Cristina quietly, asking her to sing a song from church. Natalie was curious—and hungry, for what she did not know.

Though Cristina may have felt a sense of residual fear, she nonetheless obliged the woman. As she sang, the message of that song struck Natalie's heart—an arrow of gospel truth. Among the words:

Someone knocked upon your door.

And no one opened it at all.

In the silence of the blackest night.

A Man stands there and weeps alone.

His face is nothing but deep wounds.

His chest is nothing but red blood.

Who are You, weary Stranger? Who are You?

Whose longing makes You roam?

For whom have countless lashes

Torn Your flesh without a pause?

What burden left that wound upon Your shoulder?

Later on, Cristina learned that, as the woman listened to her singing, she was so affected by the song's lyrics that she received Christ as Savior and was discipled in her faith. Years later, Cristina Olariu now manages a Christian radio station in Romania—and she's still singing songs about Jesus.

Here in America, you may have noticed it's becoming a bit more challenging to stand up and “sing a song” for Jesus. Spoiler alert: it's unlikely to get any easier.

Question: What is the song of your life saying about you? Is it a sweet melody of kindness and service toward your unsaved friends and neighbors? Do you sing a lyric of love for the lost—or a chorus of complaint about our culture?

People are listening! And sometimes, the best sermon is a song.

In speech, conduct, love, faith, and purity, show yourself an example of those who believe.

1 Timothy 4:12

Image by congerdesign from Pixabay

“Where are we, guys?”

At church orchestra rehearsals, I ask that question with alarming frequency. Keeping track of all the measures you’re not supposed to play can be more difficult than actually playing. I often joke, "If a piece ain't in 4/4 or 3/4 time, I'm not responsible for counting."

Muddying the musical waters is the fact that songwriting has evolved in recent times. There's no shortage of codas (confusing notations that direct you to play some—but not all—of a section of music). Plus, you now often encounter a pre-chorus, second chorus, post-chorus, turn, alternate ending, and on it goes.

Playing the French horn, as I attempt to do, comes with its own set of dangers. You might easily overshoot a high note and end up with a cracked tone (known in our circles as a clam or clinker). And even in the unlikely event you hit the right note, it’s shockingly easy to play the thing out of tune.

But there we were on Sunday—the orchestra regulars—rehearsing before the service. In one arrangement we worked on, the French horn part was particularly exposed. Meaning everyone would hear the mess if I messed up. Which I did.

But only when the actual Sunday service began did I look at that music with fresh eyes. It wasn't handed to me with a caveat—"You better play this perfectly or you're out!" It was given to me with a measure of faith that I would give it my best (which I did)—and that this would be enough.

Our conductor had assigned me the part not because I was somehow worthy or had earned it. He simply wanted it played. In a sense, that music was my assignment, my contribution to the song.

Maybe—like a lot of us—you struggle with performance-based issues: “I gotta do this right or I’m not worthy.”  How freeing to know that God isn’t demanding we play our part perfectly.

He expects us to give it our best, but at the same time (to borrow another analogy from David) God remembers that “we are but dust.” He’s not in the business of clobbering any of His followers with his conductor’s baton.

If you’re a perform-aholic who feels like you never perform well enough, God invites you to something better. Just wait for His downbeat and follow His tempo. Do your best, and then leave the rest with Him, knowing "He remembers our frame, that we are but dust."

Contrary to the TV commercials, America does not run on Dunkin'. Increasingly, it runs on bashin', as in bashing our political (or any other) opponents. Skepticism and snarkiness are now the aging parents of a toxicity no one could have imagined ten years ago.

Example. The very day we read about former Vice President Dick Cheney’s death, I saw a fellow train commuter’s phone flashing the headline, “Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”  And to think decency used to draw the line. Apparently, we’re now celebrating death, folks.

Of course, the boulevard of beastliness is a two-way street. Conservatives rarely miss an opportunity to bash the “Dumbacrats.” Just this week, I saw a caption underneath President Biden’s photo describing him as “the most vile excuse for a politician in the history of the United States.” And on it goes.

We’ve become a nation plagued with an insatiable desire to categorize—and then demonize—our opponents. If we can merely label someone a “godless lib” or a “MAGA idiot,” we can then smugly associate them with all kinds of extreme beliefs and nasty assumptions. Naturally, we link them with the worst of their kind—and (oddly) feel no shame in stripping others of their individuality. 

But every person has a story. And when we deny them that story, we deny them their personhood. Ultimately, this bloodsport becomes nothing less than a license for character assassination.

To quote James, “These things ought not so to be.”

I'm not dismissing the fact that significant differences do exist. Nor am I advocating that when any political party—Republican or Democrat—takes an anti-God stance, we should look the other way.

But our culture is not our standard. Christ is. History records that He walked the paths of a politically charged era and did so with holiness, not snarkiness. Surely, He saw and felt injustice, extortion, and government oppression. No doubt these all pained Him.

But Jesus knew that back of it all was sin—on all sides, in all people. And He never let politics or culture distract him from His laser lock on lost people. This, then, is our model—holiness, not snarkiness. 

In the end, hell will be full of sinners from both political parties. So, let’s stop leaning on labels and start loving on people. Let’s look past their politics to their person.

Everybody needs Jesus. Do they see Him in you?

“But sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, but with gentleness and respect.”

1 Peter 3:15

Image by chiplanay from Pixabay

When you are six, learning to whistle is a big deal. When you are six, learning to snap your fingers is also a big deal. And may I remind you that when you are six, losing your first tooth is definitely a big deal?

So it was that we received spirited updates on all these major life events from Emma, who is indeed six years old. As we listened in person or on FaceTime, we heard her snaps grow louder and her whistle less airy. We watched as her tooth grew wigglier and wigglier.

But on FaceTime—or any time—nothing was wigglier than Emma herself. She bopped, blinked, and bounced in a blur. Keeping her inside the phone's camera frame was not possible. "Now you see her, now you don't" comes to mind.

Emma's eight-year-old sister, Ava, observed all of these shenanigans. Being much more of a cut-to-the-chase kid, her capacity for these antics had maxed out. One famous FaceTime conversation found Emma in the middle of her ants-in-the-pants performance when Ava blurted, "Will ya just stand there and talk?!"

We shared a good laugh, and while Emma did not settle down, a question settled on me: Does God ever feel that way about us?

Does He ever watch us crushing our jobs, rushing our lives, and want to say, "Hey, you! Will ya just stand there and talk?!"

But we're "busy," you see. Busy about too many things that won't matter six weeks from now, let alone six months or six years. And these things that don't ultimately matter keep us from the only things that do. Like prayer.

The King of kings and Lord of lords desires an audience with you. Every. Single. Day. With check-ins throughout the day!

Hey, you! Will ya just stand there (or kneel there) and talk?!

Seek the Lord and his strength; seek his presence continually!

- I Chronicles 16:11

Photo by Karoline Lewis on Unsplash