Worship

I am seated by a large window overlooking a very bleak and gray Ohio River. The tall gray skyscrapers of Cincinnati seemingly blend into the sky. Snow is beginning to collect on the icy shores of the river as the daylight rapidly diminishes. I am listening to the mournful strains of Hynryk Gorecki’s famous third symphony which I have grown to love. The setting could suggest a rather depressed state of mind, but in sharp contrast to the bitter outdoors, I am comfortably ensconced in a cozy coffee shop with a steaming cup of peppermint tea surrounded by the books that I love so well. Life could not be better.

I was recently contemplating the subject of worship. I have been around in my day, and have experienced many modes and methods of worship. People argue and fuss about what is right and what is wrong. I know people who say that musical instruments used in worship are wrong, and others that say worship is hardly worship without them. People fuss and fume, and go on and on. I am young and for the most part inexperienced, but I have drawn my own conclusions on the subject. In my humble opinion (anyone that wishes to is entitled to disagree with me :) I have concluded that in all of this argument and conjecture, people are missing the true meaning of worship. Worship is not about any particular method, or lack thereof. Worship is about adoring our Creator and our Savior in whatever way we feel we can do that best. For some that may be the beautiful yet solemn hymns written centuries ago. For others it may be the upbeat joyous music written more recently. I think God frowns on neither; I think God looks at the heart of the people doing the worshiping. Here is an example from my typical Sunday worship experience…

The music is loud – close to earsplitting. The singing is led by a tiny Korean girl and a not so tiny Mexican boy, both of whom are college students. In fact, the entire worship band is led and performed by students. Several acoustic guitars, an electric guitar, a keyboard, and a violin provide the main musical aspect. Sometimes a little African drum is enthusiastically pounded by one of the local children.

The vast majority of the congregation sways and claps to the beat of the music. A fifteen year old mother cradles her infant baby in one corner while her numerous younger siblings run around tripping over feet and electric cords, and sowing general discord wherever they go. A large black man slouches in his seat. He wears one of the over-sized caps so popular in the rap culture, and a large diamond earring in one ear. The waist of his pants hangs to his crotch and his two pairs of underwear are clearly visible to those seated behind him. An older Korean woman stands with her arms spread wide, her head tilted heavenward, and her eyes shut tight as she loses herself in worship. Several girls in tight jeans and leather jackets giggle as they dance to the beat, their large hoop earrings bouncing and swaying. A row of students, most of whom are Korean, stand in the rear participating in the worship, though not quite as euphorically as the majority of the congregation. I am standing in the midst of it all – more distracted, I fear, by the activity surrounding me then concentrating on the worship as I should be. I am also somewhat distracted by the not-so-pleasant odor emanating from the gaunt, hungry looking homeless man standing beside me. I try to ignore the cries of protest from my nasal passages and concentrate my attention back on the worship service.

I love how the little girls' hair is done! All those beads

The songs are mostly contemporary choruses which are easy to learn and easy to clap to. The words are projected on a screen at the front of the room. The screen and sound equipment stand in sharp contrast to the otherwise somewhat primitive interior of the room. The service is held in the basement of an ancient Methodist church. The floors are made of scratched and creaking hardwood, and the ceilings consist of the stamped metal that was so common in the Victorian era. The chairs mostly consist of the folding metal variety, though there are a few large padded chairs scattered hither and yon throughout the room.

The congregation is a portrait of diversity. The leaders of the church originate from South Korea. They came to America as missionaries and the church is one of the many fruits of their tireless efforts. Korean students from the large university nearby, as well as a few sent here from as far away as California on mission internships, provide help as Sunday School teachers and worship leaders. There are also several musically minded Mexicans from the college I attend who provide most of the musical talent. Occasionally students will visit who hail from such diverse locations as Iran, Japan, and Belize. The rest of the congregation is made up of local people, most of whom live within walking distance of the church. And then there is one lone little conservative white girl – me.

Eating the meal served after the service

The church is situated in the midst of the notorious Over-the-Rhine which, according to FBI reports, is the most dangerous place in the USA. Hardly a day goes by without numerous shootings, rapes, and burglaries. Violence and crime is an everyday occurrence. Some of the Korean missionaries themselves have been held up right outside the church building.

I saw this sign painted on the side of a building in Over-the-Rhine

But to them, that is a small price to pay in comparison to the rewards of seeing people from such a dark place as this brought to and transformed by the light of Jesus. For, despite the almost humorous variety represented by the congregation, there is truly a spirit of worship in this place like I have rarely felt elsewhere. A black mother, whose face bears testament to the many hardships she has experienced, raises her hands in worship as she belts out the lines to the song. Despite the scars left by years of toil and pain, her face glows with the peace and joy that only Jesus can provide. And though her clothes may be stained and torn, her body sagging and worn, and her voice rough and cracked, I am sure God is smiling down on her, for her heart is so clearly overflowing with the one thing He loves the most, Worship.