Why I didn’t raise my hands, even when the worship leader told us to…

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.