I think that somewhere in our severe reaction to the Catholic cooties the Protestant Church decided there was going to be no talk of regret and confession in worship. The understood rule is there is not to be any sorrow or misfortune expressed on Sunday - that stuff is just a big downer. I imagine the "party pooper" song ringing through minds if anyone were to risk laying bare their souls at 10am on the Lord's Day. It cannot be allowed. Sunday mornings are for bright cheery times, coffee and donuts, great music, a splendid pep-talk, and cookies. One Sunday morning unpleasantry is enough, and we call that "cheerful giving." No wonder we're called hypocrites.
But, as David Beuchner (1977) says, there can be no good news if there is not first just plain news; just as successful chemotherapy is not good news if we are not first diagnosed with cancer. We must face the brutal bare reality of who we are in revealing silence, corrupt and base, before we can rejoice in the spirit of the Lord's Day.
Those of us who speak of our salvation experiences disappointedly because we had so little to be saved from must pray more diligently that we would catch a glimpse of the holiness of God. That holiness that left the top of Mt. Sinai in ashes and compelled Moses to fearlessly lead 2 million slaves through radical reformation is still God who dwells in us. It is not a horrible tale of redemption (as we might see it) that we all need, we just need us, plain, simple-minded, and naive, to be measured against holiness. We fail to see our own tragedy as long as we measure ourselves against the wrong things. Measured against another maggot one maggot might think themselves grand. All I see are disgusting maggots.
You see, outside of God, the difference between our righteousness and the righteousness of that drug-dealing, wife-beating, child-neglecting, smelly half-whit we consider "white-trash" is only a matter of our own distorted perception. God sees the difference in the measure of grace required to save the lifetime Christian turned missionary become martyer and the grace required to redeem the most horrific of criminals as completely insignificant. We have the same salvation stories - God's grace. Thus Paul could say, "I am the worst of sinners" (1 Timothy 1:15) and believe it. It is no accident that a man rightfully sentenced to death on a cross was the first to enter Paradise by a man punished for our sin.
What's my point? We've convinced ourselves that walking boldly into the throne room of God (Hebrews 10:19) has something to do with our own merit. But the remainder of the verse clarifies that we do so because of the blood of Jesus. The blood of Jesus is the golden ticket. A horrificly acquired golden ticket. When we don't grasp this, we brazenly attend worship hoping something is in it for us. So, every Sunday, churches are 'dared' to impress with something more than the blood, because "we've heard that before." Have we? So, worship leaders must be "set-up men," and the pastor a "public relations guru" for God - challenged to "spin" the tale another way, just don't make us feel bad.
There is something in worship for us, but before we can "get it" we must first be honest about our current state without God's grace. We have to quit considering ourselves the exception to the fall of humanity. We need God, and God doesn't need us! But, God is so good he shows up! If we don't grasp this, what are we worshipping? How can one 'worship' who places no value on God's goodness? And how can one value God's goodness if they have no understanding of their own wretchedness? And how can one have an understanding of their own wretchedness if they begin to think they need any less grace than any other?
That bold walk into God's throne-room is glorious, but we deceive ourselves if we think we have entered on our own merit. No, we are a longed for guest, a child that lost his/her way, and squandered all rights and access to the Kingdom with our first transgression. But, through voluntary torment and unnecessary death, the prince has ransomed us home. We have deep sorrow because we have been ransomed from the debt of our own sin by the one who had no debt to pay. We regret sins we commit and are ashamed that we do it with full knowledge that we only perpetuate the demand for Jesus' death (Hebrews 6:6). Whether it be before, or during worship, we ought to make time for a penitential revelation of who we are without God. When we embrace our utter unworthiness and realize He still calls us by name to come, each Sunday we recall our release from the penitentiary of sin and it's consequences and we are compelled to joyful response.
Marc
