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Faith

Wrecked Unto Worship

I was stretching, reaching, lifting my hands as high as they could go, as if I could somehow touch Him- the music pounded.  In that same instant I felt like I couldn’t get low enough.  Like I just needed to get lower than the ground would allow.  The throng of voices around us going after Jesus in adoration and exultation, praising Him, worshiping Him.  I was so caught up in the moment, no longer in a concert of praise – I was standing before His throne crowning Him with many crowns…  And that is when I saw her.

The women in Luke 7 who had lived a sinful life (she may as well been me). Like a movie flashing across the walls of my heart in vivid display, she walked quietly into the room with her head down and eyes searching for Him.  The one whom she was coming to serve, to lavish, to waste herself on. Wanting not to be noticed, wanting to just get to HIM and to his feet.

Quietly kneeling, taking those God feet into her hands, she begins to pour herself out, right there for everyone to see.  Her pain, the years of broken bleeding hurt pouring out of her, falling onto those precious feet.  The bearers of good news for her, for us, for me.  She lets the tears fall hard one after the other – a torrent of baptismal water, her repentance – the vehicle for her worship. Without this brokeness there would be no offering, no stream of water for the washing and the worshiping.

Without a sound she releases the long strands of hair that cascade towards the floor as if they have been freed from a life of bondage. Her hair crown becomes her rag, as she anoints the feet of her Savior.

And that is when I see her most clear, vivid and true- her head moving back and forth to the rhythm of the beat.  Her hair swinging from side to side. The hair that He fashioned on her head, the strands that he has numbered, counted, and knows by heart cleansing his perfect, wet, tear soaked feet.

With her wet hair, tattered from this act of love, she is composing a music all her own, the rhythm of sacrifice and wreckage poured out for Him, on Him, to honor Him…. This is worship.

4 Comments

  1. Gloria

    This is beautiful Carrie, thank you

  2. Court

    Ooh. This is powerful. My church is known for the good worship and sometimes I feel this pressure like to preform or conform and I forget that is not remotely who or why we do worship.
    Other times, I open my eyes to the throne room and worry the angels or elders will figure me out and cause a ruckus kicking me out!

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