Worship Artists – Poem

Worship is not an art form
And if it is then surely we are all worship artists
Scrawling out our life drawings on the canvas of our time
Day to day, tracing or replacing lines
Trying to draw out the image of the Creator to display to the world in the gallery of our character.
Or for some us, trying to paint our own self-portrait
With no mirror and no clue
Using what we see in the world AND what we’ve heard from the Word as our model so we end up confused.

Yes, we are all worship artists.
We don’t receive a salary because all of our work was commissioned by a Master
Our Master. The Prince of Peace
And we His masterpieces fall to pieces when we refuse to see His masterful design
Weaving body and soul intertwined,
Sowing together the biological truths that keep our muscles in tension,
Primed with the Divine imprint so deep,
Beauty unlocked by a transformed mind.

Yes, we are all worship artists
Singing our spiritual songs whether the key is minor or major
The melodies of our hearts fill the hallways of Heaven.
And hell.
Yes our songs of surrender and celebration can make angels rejoice but our songs of rebellion can also tickle the ears of demons.
Yes, we are all worship artists
But sometimes our tones don’t harmonise with ancient hymns, they resonate with deadly sins
And those seven deadly heads sway to the rhythm of our blues, swing to our contemporary cues and rock us to sleep with lullabies of pride and self-pity.

Yes, we are all worship artists
Malformed sculptures often don’t stand the test of time.
Gravity can bend them down to its own level
But bended knees are perfect platforms for the display of splendour.
Just hold that position. Though the guilty hammer is in our hand
We were never meant to hold the chisel, just to yield to it
And let each blow kiss away that which isn’t His image.
We can get disoriented as we spin on the Potter’s wheel but those hands are always holding us, moulding us.
Always.
Our worship is the display of His deepest work and the protection of His future projects in us.
We are the security guards in the museum at night
Shining the flashlight on the one who comes to kill and steal but he runs
We sound the alarm in our souls and in worship we submit to the Artist and resist the thief who flees
In failure.

Yes we are all worship artists. And we may never sell a single single.
Even if we’re trying to.
But worship sounds like breaking jars, pouring oil and dripping blood.
The same sound that was heard in Gethsemane.
We may not mimic it perfectly but His eyes of mercy see willing spirits above weak flesh.
And if we cross our eyes and get Cross-eyed, we just might see too that we are all worship artists
In spirit and in truth.

June 20th 2018

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