For most of my christian life, I've been positively stoic when involved in public worship. You know the routine...just enough color/sound/movement to blend into the background. Taking my cues from the rest of the congregation, I would sit, stand, kneel. Sing quietly...since God appreciates a joyful noise, but the people within earshot have a decided preference for beautiful noise, which is, alas, outside my abilities. Never clap to the music, since rhythm and timing are, likewise, not among my talents.

Not that I'm at all fazed by the various forms of worship that His people use to express their adoration, to interact with Him. I'll not make the arrogant presumption that I've seen it all. 'All' is mighty big territory. But I've been to churches with hardly any worship to speak of(a responsive reading and maybe a traditional hymn, if they're feeling adventurous) Been to churches with formal choirs and organ music. Been to churches with rock bands...or even what borders on an orchestra...or just a single acoustic guitar. Been to accapella worship services. I've been to churches with Hasidic worship dance teams. Been to churches where they use flags, veils, and tambourines. Seen churches where you make yourself conspicuous by NOT dancing in the aisles. I've seen manifestations of the Toronto blessing. I've also seen things which were more questionable.(happenings I'm not prepared to condemn but neither am I fully persuaded they have their source in God) There were mosh pits and crowd-surfing at some of the metal/punk concerts at Cornerstone Festival.

True worship does take many forms, all of them beautiful, priceless to Him. But most of this I report as an neutral observer standing in the shadows of the periphery, doing my best to remain anonymous, inconspicuous, safe.

And then He started changing things. First, I found myself pouring it all out in the uninhibited privacy of my personal worship times. My private prayer closet has been a noisy, rowdy place for several years now...it's so intimate, a lovers' rendezvous with the truest of Lovers.

Then, He dropped into my head the realization that He hears and sees silences as clearly as the most flamboyant of gestures, the loudest of voices. Superficial appearances mean nothing, hearts can never lie to the Ancient of Days. And He asked me why I should enjoy being with Him more in private than in public. Was my worship intended to be an expression of love for Him or an ecclesiastically correct display for the onlookers? Was I ashamed to be seen with Him? (ouch!...no one asks pointed questions quite like a jealous, omniscient Lover/God.) Stunned into silence, I said nothing. The implications both shamed me and terrified me.

I would never advocate bargaining with God. It's almost always a lot easier to just give in entirely and embrace obedience right from the start. But my fears and insecurities speak so loudly sometimes, they're hard to ignore. So I promised to be more expressive in public worship if He'd help me. He said I could quit and revert back to my stoicism the minute someone came to me and said they were offended by my expression of worship.(Of course, this was a trick. You don't have to walk with Him for long to realize that there is no going back once He changes you. The proverbial 'straight and narrow' has always been a one way street, anything but safe.)

So I lifted my hands, which suddenly seemed to weigh 500 pounds each, to about waist high. This was none other than a crucifixion of the flesh. I was sure that every eye was on me, gawking at my clumsy attempt to embrace my Lover. (In reality, I'm sure no one even noticed, involved as they were with their own worship.) I barely lived through the service, and slunk out of there as soon as possible, looking for a rock to bury myself under. Still, it WAS obedience, which never goes unblessed. I felt Him smiling in my heart. What wouldn't you do for His smile?

So I persisted, in spite of those nagging insecurities. I found it was possible, though not easy, to mentally shut out all the 'great cloud of witnesses', and just be with Him, even in the crowd. To my amazement, one day, I found myself moving to the music, or, at least what passes for moving to the music for us who are utterly devoid of motor coordination and physical grace. Not a pretty sight, I'm sure, but I didn't care. I was dancing with my Lover.

After the service, when someone came up to me and started, 'I saw you dancing this morning...' I steeled myself for the inevitable conclusion...(you were such a distraction I couldn't concentrate. Please, never make such a shameful display again. Have you no mercy?!') I was completely caught off guard by what she actually said,...'it was so beautiful! I just wanted to thank you.' (!!!)

That was more than a year ago.These days, it's not any easier. I still feel like a fool.(so, point me in the direction of some wise as-...er...people I can confound...) But now, I take my cues from the lyrics and from that gentle Lover. Sit, stand, kneel, sing(still quietly, I'm afraid)...dance. What I do, I do for Him alone. Dancing the way David did.(Well...not quite like David...I keep all my clothes on.) I don't need the approval of others. True worship is a passionate love affair with the God of the universe. It has as many different forms as it does hearts to dwell in. But, one thing it's categorically NOT is 'safe.'

And then, as long as we're on the subject of 'not safe,' there was yesterday morning...There was a line in one of the worship songs about praising His Name with dancing. Not unusual. It's not a new song. But the worship leader stopped in midsong and said there was a problem...that people were not, for the most part, praising His Name with dancing. Then he called Angie up on stage. Then Meg. Then, 'you, sistah with the hat...' I looked around, to no avail. There was no one else around that answered to that description. Yikes!!

So, half a minute later, I'm obediently daring the unthinkable, the decidedly 'not safe.' Dancing with my Lover. Onstage. In front of 700 people. Supreme crucifixion of the flesh. I was sure I was going to trip over my own ungainly feet and sprawl gracelessly over the pulpit, toppling singers and flower arrangements as I went; that my clothes were going to suddenly and inexplicably dematerialize; that people were going to throw rocks, eggs and festering produce...Thankfully, my over-active fantasy life is just that. None of my fears were justified. In fact, several people said they were blessed by it.

But what if all of my worst fears were realized? So what. Am I unwilling to suffer shame and embarrassment for the glory of the One Who endured the humiliation, ridicule, and mockery of crucifixion for me? Was I not bought and paid for in that one act of glorious humiliation? Am I not His? And if, by being shamed, dishonored, and disgraced, I can exalt Him, honor Him, bring Him glory, then it's far less than I owe Him.

Don't panic...and put that stone down...I'm not saying that everyone should dance in worship. Worship is so much more than what you do on Sunday morning with your hands, your feet, your voice. I'm only saying that my reasons for quiet, understated, stoic worship were rooted in wanting to protect my fragile self image, in seeking to avoid being an object of ridicule...in pride. So, it had to go.

Worship IS that passionate love affair with that eternal Lover, that untame Lion, and the very substance of that love affair is humility, the sacrifice of obedience from a broken, surrendered heart. True worship changes the worshipper forever. It's not safe.