Anticipation of Advent Worship

Last night I was sitting at the kitchen table working through one of the first sessions of “Simply Wait: Cultivating Stillness in the Season of Advent” by Pamela Hawkins. I stared into the light of the Advent flames (as my own celebration of Advent began after Christ the King Sunday) and asked myself a question: “What do I anticipate experiencing [in God’s house during Advent]?”

The flames flickered as the coffee wafted through my nostrils. I pondered the season ahead. What do I anticipate? Do I expect to find a living and loving God bringing hope?

As a pastor, I can testify that Advent and Lent are two seasons of the year that can easily run out of control. I can testify that I have had more staff and volunteers quit the church (and often faith itself) during these two seasons of the year. In truth, with the possible exception of my first year of ministry, I cannot remember one of these seasons passing without a challenge in one form or another. These two holy times can be difficult seasons between special programs, natural disasters, and traditions which sometimes grow out of control.

The question remains: What do I anticipate this holy season? Do I anticipate things rushing out of control? There is a part of my soul that expects the worst to happen and for me to be required to rush around like a chicken with my head cut off. There is also a part of me that longs for something better, something quieter, and something holier.

I stared into the burning advent candles and pondered what it would look like as a pastor to anticipate holy stillness in the house of the Lord. What would it look like to worship in a way where I could sing songs with my heart? What would it look like to have time for silence and prayer? What would it look like to worship in a way where we could focus more on the proclamation of scripture and less on the sermon?

As time shifted, I began to ponder what it would look like as a parent. What would I anticipate this holy season when I came into God’s house? After listening to children tell me their desires for weeks, what would it mean to anticipate moments of waiting? What would it mean for worship to be a place where I do not have to be the only person saying: “Patience, my child.” What if God were to speak those words into my heart as a parent? What if God were to speak those words into my heart as a person?

What do you anticipate this holy season? Is there space for silence? Is there space for peace? I hope we all find that quietness.

Let us Ramble: Prayer and Worship

Last Sunday night I had the pleasure of sitting in worship. My wife has been spending a lot of time with the good folks of the Newark Valley United Church of Christ. Once a month they have been having an evening worship service with communion. My family and I attend this service for two reasons. One, it is wonderful to support my wife by going to a church of her choice, which is a rarity as most Sunday mornings I am where I am appointed. Two, it is an opportunity to sit in worship as a person and not as the leader. Sunday morning is a time of worship for me, but I rarely get the privilege of listening to another preacher work through the word of God with the people of God.

So, Sunday night, Pastor Chris Xenakis, a colleague and the pastor of the Groton Community Church, was visiting to preach, serve communion, and lead worship. After his sermon, Chris said something to the effect of “Prayer is the most important part of worship. In many ways, all of worship is a prayer.” Pastor Xenakis is a wise man.

Chris’ words kept ringing through my ears after I returned home. After I realized that it was not going to go away until I figured out why it was bugging me, I went hunting through my readings for the Academy for Spiritual Formation. I found the source of my distraction in “The Art of Prayer: An Orthodox Anthology.” In that anthology, Bishop Theophan (1815-1894) of the Orthodox persuasion, is quoted as saying the following in the second chapter under the subheading “The test of everything”:

“Prayer is the test of everything; prayer is also the source of everything; prayer is the driving force of everything; prayer is also the director of everything. If prayer is right, everything is right. For prayer will not allow anything to go wrong.”

The affirmation of prayer by Bishop Theophan is deep, thought-provoking, and reminiscent of what Pastor Xenakis said during the service. Prayer is seen in this concept as that which exists at the heart of everything. Prayer provides everything, drives everything, and directs everything. The bold statement is made that everything is right when prayer is right.

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My thought-provoking copy of “The Art of Prayer”

These concepts tug at my thoughts in deep ways. What is life but an act of worship? We worship when we use our resources to God’s glory. We worship when we choose to use our time wisely. We worship when we treat God, our neighbor, and ourselves with love. We worship when we tend to the world in which we have been placed. All of life can be seen as an invitation to worship. If all worship is a prayer, then truly prayer is at the very heart of our existence.

So, the question then becomes obvious. How do we know if our prayer is right? What litmus test can we apply to our actions, our stewardship, and our relationships that can show whether we are on the right track?

I believe the answer is love. Do our actions exhibit love? Do our prayers lead to more love? If God is love, then we should strive to be more loving. If God is love, then our actions should point towards the Source of love. If God is love, then we are invited to join in the great dance of love through Christ. I believe the true litmus test of our lives is whether or not we are sources of love like the one we worship and claim as our savior.

Inevitably, someone will question whether or not Jesus’ suffering was in line with the idea of prayer not allowing anything to go wrong. In the end, Jesus conquered his suffering and death. As a resurrection people, we are a people who understand that sometimes all is made well on the other side of suffering, struggle, and occasionally death. Can we be patient enough to allow all to be made well? Can we be patient enough to allow things to be made right even when it seems they all have gone wrong?

In the meantime, I am grateful that I went to the evening service on Sunday. It is nice to be in worship and to have the opportunity to both sing from the pews and to hear a good sermon. I will probably keep thinking about Chris’ words on worship and how Bishop Theophan invites us from across the centuries to ponder whether those prayers are the test of everything.