Worship
I found the following statement from the preface in The Open Sanctuary, by author Nicholas J. Moore to be reassuring:
“[A]ll this reading, thinking, and writing has been an imperfect offering of worship to Christ, our high priest, through whom “we gaze into the heights of the heavens” (1 Clem 36:2 LCL).”
“The Open Sanctuary, Access to God and the Heavenly Temple in the New Testament, p xi
If what I do is worship, even though imperfect, why do I feel guilty at times when studying, thinking, translating, writing?
Is it because as a wife I’m neglecting domestic duties? Wouldn’t my time be better spent dusting, doing laundry, tidying my humble abode? And is that worship? Yes, it can be.
Or is it more likely something else?
For instance, the perpetuation of the ridiculous notion that the first created woman deceived in Eden is responsible for leading humanity over the proverbial slippery slope into perdition? Therefore, all women are gullible deceivers prone to lead others astray?
It’s ironic how lies sneak in, isn’t it? And when repeated often enough they are believed, deceiving both men and women – even when Scripture teaches otherwise.
One thing I’ve learned from that account of deception is to be on guard myself as a woman. Wolves and snakes are hidden everywhere. Might this explain why some women dive deeper into the biblical text? How does the old proverb go:
“Fooled me once, shame on you.
Fooled me twice, shame on me!”
God’s Pleasure
A comment said years ago by an adviser when enrolling to study Scripture at college still hangs around in my head, “You’re an unusual woman if you want to do that much Bible research! I don’t know many women who want to do that!” His words dripped with disapproval, yet I persisted.
On one hand, I agreed with part of that statement. I am a unique woman as many of the personality tests taken over the years reveal. Those who know me already knew that and no tests were needed! But I’m slowly welcoming the woman God called me to be and am relishing who I am becoming.
On the other hand, I disagreed with part of the statement and wholeheartedly believe the statement reveals a world too small, myopic, unbalanced, and biased! A male-dominated academic world is weakened by failing to apprehend and appreciate the wisdom female scholars and biblical researchers, commentary authors and preachers of the Word who shepherd communities of believers bring to the table.
A scene from the movie, Chariots of Fire, comes to mind. When asked by his sister why he had to run in the Olympics instead of returning to his work Eric Liddell, a Scottish missionary, responded that he sensed God’s pleasure when he runs. 1
I treasure the moments that become hours of contemplation upon scripture and all things divine, and it’s a bonus that this is worship. The work of our human service to, for, and with God, the one who serves humanity – is indeed a profound picture of mutuality between the Divine and Human.
Hineni
I recall moments from my childhood aware of God drawing me deeper into the mysteries of discovering the Divine.
I did not use the terms – contemplation, mystery, wonder, divine – as a child of 6 or 7, nor did I possess the ability to comprehend and articulate the joy and peace that overwhelmed my being.
In hindsight, though, with new language gained through maturity, I note those precious moments for what they were and what they currently are – encounters between the Creator of this vast universe and my tiny, created self.
They were and are and abide within me still.
As a small child raised in the plains of Nebraska the vast horizon presented breathtaking images forever embedded in my mind, proof of God’s providence, God’s nearness.
Billowing cumulonimbus clouds towering into the heavens.
Emerald fields of corn enhanced by the radiant blue skies after a storm.
God was there.
Sunning on a summer afternoon near the fragrant lilac bush in full bloom.
Kneeling among sheaves of wheat contemplating the complexities of family life.
God was there.
Gazing upon a hillside ablaze with the magnificent colors of lilies and bee balm in bloom with hand to my face and tears in my eyes.
Meditating by a Colorado river captivated by the color of evergreens and aspens rising from the Rockies.
Waiting for sun to rise surrounded by my feeble recreation of heaven on earth in our garden.
God was there.
God is there.
Ah, but God is closer still.
Hineni! I am here. Here I am.
The meaning of the Hebrew word, hineni, according to Avital Snow, is “a powerful declaration – one that can be made to God, and one that God can make to us.” 2 Isaiah responds, here I am/I am here when God calls (Is 6:8) and God responds with, here I am/I am here when we cry out in need (Is 58:9).
With each new babe gently brought to my breast with life-sustaining nourishment pouring into their puckered mouths.
Contemplating the care and provision at the close of each day before sleep.
I call and God responds. Hineni.
When I ponder the purpose of my existence, our existence, I encounter the Divine call. Hineni.
To dwell upon Christ, to write about Christ, to scour lexicons and commentaries for meanings of words in Scripture, to understand and to know, I respond like little Samuel, “Hineni! Here I am.”
When earthly voices determine to drown out the Divine, I dwell upon the eternal voice.
I cry out to the heavens. A response comes forth – thunderous at times.
More often it is that still, quiet voice.
“How may I serve you? Help is on the way!!”
“Hineni!”
“Here I am!” I am here for you!” Hineni.
“Let me serve you, let me hold you.”
“Be still, my child. Place your head upon my breast, and let my life-giving, soul-nourishing words satisfy your soul.”
“Let me gently rock you to sleep. Tomorrow when you wake, we have work to do!”
“That my darling daughter is how you worship me!”
And to that, I say, Hineni.