The Weight of Worship

In 2004 I arrived. It was the year I accomplished everything on my wish list.

After my high school graduation, I packed up my red Chevy Cavalier and headed to the city. I shook the small-town dust off my Birkenstocks and marched full speed toward my dreams. I pursued my degree with unequivocal focus. I landed my first professional job—one that required credentials after my signature. My true love slipped a ring on my finger. I set up house with wedding gifts and bliss and naivete. I birthed an olive-skinned beauty and named her Claire.

I had all I ever wanted, but I’d never felt so lost.

I sat in our three-bedroom starter house, my baby in my arms, surrounded by the life I’d thought I wanted. But even in the middle of my dream come true, I felt very little joy. Every day I had someone to love me, someone to care for, and a lovely place to live. What more did I need?

How is it possible to arrive at your destination only to discover you are in the wrong place?

Even in this place of spiritual discomfort, I kept reading the Bible. My affection for Jesus grew as I learned more about him. I read the Gospel accounts of his compassion for the sick, his regard for the lowly, his respect for women. My love for him grew as I studied his life and his journey to the cross. Serving Christ took the place of striving for self importance.

During this time, I journaled because it seemed the only way I could pray was on paper. My prayers found their way from the pages of my journal into the crevices of my day. As I rocked my inconsolable child, I asked God for wisdom, recalling the truth of James 1:5, “If you need wisdom, ask our generous God, and he will give it to you” (NLT). Instead of trying to work my way out of the pit, I gave each sorrow to Jesus. Like a slowly blooming flower, I began to notice all the ways God heard and answered my prayers. Gratitude replaced grumbling, and self-pity had no place in my praise.

My circumstances didn’t change. I was still a novice mother of a colicky baby. My wardrobe of stretchy pants and stained t-shirts stayed the same. I didn’t rediscover myself through a new career or calling.

The only thing that changed was the object of my affection.

Through this daily, intimate exchange with Jesus, my heart became fully his. My life’s purpose became more than achieving the next goal. Instead, I wanted “to glorify God and enjoy him forever” (Westminster Shorter Catechism). I emerged from my constructed utopia that couldn’t satisfy into a place of peace and joy.

Perry Noble said, “The only person able to sustain the weight of your worship is Jesus.” Everything and everyone else will disappoint you. Success brings short-lived celebration. Spouses can’t be everything you need them to be. Children can’t fill those empty places in your heart.

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Jesus does not disappoint. Placing all of your hope in him is a sure thing. Looking to him to guide you, comfort you, and love you is the only way to find true and lasting joy.

I still find my worship misdirected at times. I fix my eyes on success, well-behaved children, my endearing husband. I try to put the full weight of my worship on them, coaxing these fragile things to make me feel complete. Mercifully, God reminds me that only Jesus can handle the incredible weight of worship.

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What sits on the throne of your heart? Is your joy tied up in your achievements? Do you depend on a person or possession to complete you? Consider placing the weight of your worship on Jesus today. Spend time getting to know him in the Gospels. Talk to him in prayer. You will find he is capable of handling the full weight of your worship.

Kelly Smith is a small town girl who married a small town man. They have three children. In the quiet minutes of her day, you will find her at the keyboard or curled up with a book–always with coffee. Kelly believes we are created for community and loves to find ways to connect with other women who are walking in the shadow of the cross. She blogs at mrsdisciple.com.

Photograph © Allef Vinicius, used with permission