As I mentioned earlier, one of the best places to find God at The Lighthouse Cove in Pompano Beach is to walk out onto the shore of the Atlantic Ocean in the early morning. Since the beach area here is somewhat private and off-limits to the general public, the oceanfront is never that crowded. Often in the early morning, there will be a scattering of empty chairs and loungers around the beach. This morning, Sandy and I decide to give each other some space, so I find a lounger and plop myself in it. If the sights and sounds of the ocean can’t bring you into God’s presence, I don’t know what will.
Being fairly isolated from others, I begin singing softly, worshipping the Lord this fine morning, thanking Him for this sabbatical time He has given us. Since I’m really old, my brain has a very large selection of old worship choruses in my memory banks. Like a jukebox filled with golden-oldie classics, my worship selections date back to some of the songs long forgotten. Many being written by my mentor, John Wimber.
Being a songwriter myself, I have a number of songs I’ve composed stored away in those same memory banks of worship choruses. Today, as I look at the gentle ocean tides, I decide to pull out a worship song I wrote back in 1997. John Wimber, founding pastor of the Vineyard, had just died at the time and I needed to write a song to remind me of one of the basic, foundational truths I most appreciated in John’s life.
Seasons come, seasons go.
Just like the sea, life ebbs and flows.
Times of joy, times of pain.
Times of sun, times of rain.
And yet through it all, the Lord will be my guide;
With His Holy hand.
And though my understanding is clouded and obscure;
My Lord, yet I will trust You;
Yes, my Lord, I will trust You.
And I will sing unto the Lord;
I will sing unto the Lord;
For His mercies;
Yes, His mercies endure forever.
As I sang my old chorus to the Lord, I began crying. Now to some, when they see me cry during worship, they worry that I’m struggling with something. In fact, I’m kinda built differently than that. When I’m deepest in worship, I always cry. Not out of pain so much, but out of an appreciation of all God is to me.
I remember a pastor once, seeing me cry in worship, suggesting to me that the Bible says there will be no tears in heaven. I politely dis-agreed with him, saying that I fully expect to do very little in heaven over the first thousand years other than crying my eyes out, being so very thankful and worshipful that Jesus has welcomed me back home to heaven.
So there I sit on this beautiful June morning in my beach lounger, looking at God’s creation and singing my ‘Yet I Will Trust You’ worship song. Suddenly I realize that my tears are flooding over my sunglasses!
I love to worship, don’t you. I love to completely let go from time to time and just let my heart and emotions loose, giving everything in my soul; good, bad and ugly, in song back over to God. I remember in the early days of the Vineyard, John Wimber telling us about his revelation of singing songs to God versus singing songs about Him. As I see it, singing worship songs directly to God is true medicine to the soul. And after two or three really hard years of pastoral ministry, this June morning at seaside at LHC, singing my heart out to Jesus, I’m feeling the heavy weights of the 3-B Syndrome (see session 2) lifting off my soul. Wow.
Now I feel much, much better now. Thank You, Lord.