When Worship Was Still Safe

I wasn't really raised in a church, but when I was 13 I started going to one every-so-often on Sundays. I started getting more involved with the youth; going on Wednesdays, going to camps, and I started getting to know Jesus. It was a baptist church where Sunday mornings consisted of going to Sunday school in the youth building and then heading to second service to listen to the sermon and worship.
Now, I don't know how it is at other churches, but when we would worship, we'd sing. We'd sing only loud enough so the person next to us would know that we were singing; and if we REALLY got into it, we might close our eyes (if we knew the words). I'll admit, I did this too. I might do the "foot tap" as I was singing with my eyes closed to make it seem like I was really in a whole new level of worship. But all of this changed in November of 2006.
"Brittany, you've got to come to this church with me. The worship is amazing," my friend, Ashlynn, told me. I told her that I'd try to come, even now I knew full well that I had no desire to go to a church where I didn't know anyone and where the worship would probably be the same as it was at my home church. So finally after a couple weeks of her continually asking if I would come and me giving her reason after reason why I couldn't come, I got tired of making excuses. I drove downtown to an older church, one that was only used on Sunday mornings. I thought it was weird that a church met on Sunday nights for the service. If I had known that the time wasn't the only "weird" thing, I might not've come...
I walk in and I see a group of students I'd never met before praying. Outloud. It was weird. And intimidating. They stood at the front of the room in a circle, each praying a different prayer. Ashlynn saw me from where she was sitting and walked over to me. "I'll introduce you to everyone when they're done praying." So we walked over to where she had been sitting and sat down. "Oh, uhm, could you not sit next to me? We normally spread out during service." I was taken aback! I said okay and moved over to the next row and wondered what I'd done to be treated like this.
The band finished praying and everyone -- all five of them -- came and introduced themselves to me. There were a couple I'd seen before, around school or at the mall or somewhere. Then the pastor (who, I admit, looked like a student) introduced himself to me. When I asked if the adults were in a different service, Ashlynn explained to me that this was a youth church. Turns out the pastor was only in his mid-twenties.
"Alright, let's get started," JT, the pastor, said. "Here at In His Dust, we allow you to worship however you want. You can sing, dance, cry, heck, you don't even have to stand up. You can just sit down and pray the whole time. You do what you feel is comfortable." The lights dimmed and the band started. I expected to know all the words to all the songs, as I had softly sang them at my other church, but most of the songs were completely new to me. The first song started and right away, Ashlynn moved to the back of the room. She sang loud, knowing every word by heart, with her eyes closed, her hands raised, and a smile, an infinite amount of joy, on her face.
I was uncomfortable, to say the least. I was used to organized worship that only lasted for twenty minutes at most; where everyone stood, sang and maybe closed their eyes. I wanted my "safe" worship back where people didn't fall to their knees or cry or dance around with their voices raised or lay face down on the floor, sobbing and praying and crying out to God for redemption. We didn't even get past worship to the sermon that night. We worshiped the whole time. I'll admit, I felt something in the room, a presence or something. It scared me, it made me curious, but most of all, it intrigued me. I left with a joy, a smile, and a head full of thoughts and wonders.
The next Sunday, at my church, I was back in my comfort zone. I sat with the youth, not a chair was empty and we started worship. We sang songs like "Undignified" and "Oh, Praise Him," and I wondered what it really meant to become undignified. In the song, the chorus says "I'll become even more undiginified than this. And some may say it's foolishness, but I'll become even more undignified than this. I'll leave my pride by my side." It occurred to me: why would we have to leave our pride by our side? What does becoming "undignified" really mean?
Just when I was finally starting to feel a bit of that inexplicable joy I had previously encountered, worship ended and the sermon was beginning. After the sermon, we sang two more songs, prayed, and left. That night, I went back to the other church. I was curious. Why did these kids worship so much differently than I did? So I sang along to the songs I knew (which were two) and I listened to the words and tried to keep up with the ones I didn't. And then something happened.
One song ended and another began and the words deeply touched me. I wasn't singing them, but listening to others sing them opened something inside of me. "Abba Father. My defender. You are holy and I surrender. For in my weakness, you protect me. When my heart strays, you correct me. I cry Abba Father, I love you, Daddy." That song hit me. I don't really call my dad "daddy" anymore. He has to travel a lot and when he's home, all we seem to do is argue. So when this song suggested that God is my Daddy, my Holy Father, something indescribable happened to me. Something good.
From then on, at the youth services, I worshiped with all that was in me. I moved. I danced. I sang loud. Louder than anyone in the room, in fact. And there where times where I'd fall face down on the ground in front of God and everybody. Sobbing. And honestly, I didn't care. when I worshiped at the baptist church, it was hard for me not to want to lift up my hands or sing loud or move around the room. I was somewhat embarrassed. I'm not like them. I can't just stand there and sing and call that "true worship."
Worship is something you do. You're not ashamed of it and everyone worships differently. Some worship silently; in prayer. Some sing. Some dance. Heck, some even run around the room. Worship is something between you and God. It doesn't matter what you do or how you do it. Just make it heartfelt and true.