I’ll be honest, I’m all about people raising their hands in worship. And I really wish I could. When I worship God alone, I do raise my hands. And if it’s really, really dark, or I’m on the back row, or some glorious combination of the three.
I am the guy that closes his eyes and gets one hand up, but always stealthy-like, most of the time over my heart. Almost never out to the side of my body.
Again, I really wish I could. Why can’t I be the guy that raises my hands and dances around? Here’s an approximate play-by-play of what goes on in my head:
“Oh Lord, I love you, you are awesome” (hand begins to raise) “See that, lady in the row behind me? I am so holy. I am like the coolest 20-something you’ve ever seen. Hey, guy beside her, check out how I raise my hand right on the profound part of the chorus! Speaking of profound—someday I am going to write a book on how to be the perfect campus minister, or at least a book on a subject that is so profound that people will think I am the perfect minister, or husband. Speaking of husband, I need to remember to pick up the loaf of bread I left out at lunch before Jacq sees it… what song are we singing now?
I mean, I know when I really think about it that the folks around me are most likely not thinking about me and how holy and awesome I am. But regardless of that truth, the fact remains that every time I raise my hands, I am immediately not worshipping. My fickle, self-consumed heart tries to pimp God’s glory.
One of the most encouraging things for me in corporate worship is to see others raising their hands. I mentally raise my hands with them, every time.
I can’t wait for heaven. I’ll get to worship God with all of my heart. With no mixed motives. Come quickly, Lord Jesus.
