Worship in the Broken Places

The Dream: 

I was touched on the face by a small, old woman who, by the smell and look of it, hadn't showered in weeks. Her feet were bare on the cold ground and rags covered her body. "Dear," she said, "could you help me? I've been hurt, I'm cold, and I am alone."
I could not deny that my first reaction was to jump back, give her a piece of my mind, and ask her why she had gotten herself in that situation, but I simply stared at her, unmoving.
"I see the confusion in your eyes, dear," she said, her voice cracking. "You are wondering why I would choose to live this way. You are wondering what I must have done. You are wondering if any of the money that you have in your pocket will go towards food or clothing, or if it will fund alcohol or drugs."
I stood there dumbfounded, unable to move. Her hand still on my cheek.
"Dear," she whispered, "I once had a family. I once had love. I once had safety. And I was robbed of all of those things. All I ask for is empathy. Judgement is quick and painless for the judge, but it leads to a life of misery for those who recieve it. Empathy is difficult and painful, but leads to change. Which will you give me?"
As her eyes searched mine, I awoke with the thought ringing through my brain:

It's easier to be judgmental than empathetic, but which one betters the human experience?

The Reality: 

It was a Thursday night and the worship team was chatting before practice while I got the sound system ready to go. We were practicing the music for the bi-monthly service of healing & renewal and the team was talking about lament in worship. And then I heard it from one of the team members:

"The Psalms remind us that we're allowed to lament - aloud."

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It really doesn't take much to get a song stuck in my head. My mind is wired to recognize tunes and throw words to them. But sometimes it's not a song that gets stuck in this ol' noggin of mine; sometimes it's sayings - and those two have been bouncing around my brain for a few days now. And when I sat down to write this post, it started as something completely different and didn't feel right. So I started over with those two things in mind. Then another question hit me, something that someone had asked me at one point in time when they heard parts of my story: "So you've been through so much - what do you think God wants you to do with it?"

And then I started to identify once again with the stories of women (and men) who are caught in abusive relationships, with people who haven't been in the situation tell them that all they have to do is leave, and the absolute insanity that is living in abuse. I empathize. And it hurts.

And I hear the stories of people who have seriously considered suicide to escape despair, depression, and the lies that their subconscious tells them. I empathize. And it hurts.

But what hurts even more is the worldly response to sin. Without the promise of a Savior who will come once again to right the wrongs of this world, there is no hope; however, the correct response to hopelessness is not making light of serious situations and trying to laugh through it.

The response to abuse in a hopeless situation is not to offer "support" by telling women to not walk alone or to "take the stairs". The response to thousands of people who have gotten out of abusive relationships and telling their harrowing stories of #WhyIStayed and #WhyILeft is not to use it as a marketing ploy so that people will buy more pizza.

Don't get me wrong - there is a time to laugh. There is absolutely a time to laugh. But as Ecclesiastes tells us, there is also a time to weep and a time to mourn (Ecc. 3:4).

And our laughter should not come at the expense of those who have been touched by sin in tragic and horrific ways. 

So what does this mean for our corporate times of worship?

It means that when we, as leaders, call the congregation to worship, we hold very closely to the balance that God is a good and loving and wonderful God who is to be praised for the good things He has given to us, AND that He is weeping with those who are weeping, mourning with those who are mourning, and comforting the afflicted. It means that we welcome ALL to worship and praise, even (and sometimes especially) those with tear-stained faces. It means that Christ has called those in need of a healer and those who are trapped in the cords of sin to the table - that He carries the broken, allows them to taste freedom and forgiveness.

Because grace means that we are carried to the table - a place that we don't belong.

It means that your leaders are as much effected by sin as those in the congregation.

But it also means that there is hope. And there is peace. And it means that sometimes I need to force myself to sing the words that are hard to sing because I know that by reaffirming truths about God and His goodness with the people around me, by reminding myself that God has not dropped me yet and will not drop me, even if it seems impossible, I will find hope. I will find peace. It might just be for a moment, but a moment of peace in the midst of chaos is a precious thing.

And please believe me when I say that I fully understand - it is difficult to raise your hands when you're flat on your back.

Please don't misunderstand me - I fully blelive that there are chemical imbalances that lead to depression, anxiety, and other disorders of the brain and they should be treated medically. I also fully believe that therapy is one of the best things ever - that having a therapist helps tremendously with dealing with life.

But when we're talking about brokenness in corporate worship, sometimes the thing that we need to do is to sing praise, to remind ourselves that God is good and loves us - especially when we don't feel it. I also firmly believe that Satan will do whatever he needs to do to take our focus off of the truth that God is in control, whether that be attacking our subconscious with lies that we don't matter, that God doesn't care, that life is hopeless or any other way. And sometimes praise, even with tears streaming down our faces, is necessary to bring a dot of light into a dark and broken place.

I also want to say this: as the body of Christ, we are called to tend to those parts that hurt. The example that always comes to mind for me is my ankles because I'm very very prone to rolling them. When I roll or sprain an ankle, it swells. That swelling is the reaction of my body to the injured part, sending extra fluid and white blood cells to aid in healing. Then why is it, in the Body of Christ, that I see more often than not a response of running away from injured members when the response should be running towards them (not literally, people. Don't stampede hurting people, please)?

Because empathy is hard. Sitting in silence, mourning with those who mourn, crying, all of that is tiring. Recently, one of my friends told me, "I can't say I understand. But I care so so much." And that's all I needed to hear. I didn't need a solution, I didn't need someone telling me their situation, I just needed to hear that someone cared.

Y'all, sin hurts. We live in a broken world. But we don't have to suffer alone; in that same breath, neither should we allow others to suffer alone. From personal experience, pain is a lot easier to deal with when I have people who are shouldering it with me. There is a time to laugh and dance, and in a broken world, laughter and dancing are also absolutely necessary. But let us remember to treat each other with grace and understanding, with open ears and care.

We are allowed to lament - aloud. We are allowed to feel the weight of sin and we are allowed to speak about it. We are also called to empathy, to being willing to hurt with someone, for that is the example of Christ, bearing ALL of the weight of sin for a broken people, walking towards the lepers, the adulterers, the liars, the thieves, and healing and forgiving them, inviting them to eat with Him. Taking their pain. And then, after doing all that, being nailed to a cross, being despised by the very ones that He loved.

Worship isn't just for the happy. Worship is for all.

"Come, ye sinners, poor and needy

Weak and wounded, sick and sore.

Jesus ready stands to save you

full of pity, love and pow'r.

Come ye thirsty come and welcome

God's free bounty glorify

True belief and true repentance

Every grace that brings you nigh.

Come ye weary, heavy laden

lost and ruined by the fall.

If you tarry till you're better

You will never come at all."

Joseph Hart