Grateful worship: a way of life

Towards the end of Romans 11, Paul–the great missionary of the early Church–begins to wrap up a rhetorically complex argument about God’s faithfulness. Strangely, at the end of this technical treatise, Paul breaks out into song:

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
    How unsearchable his judgments,
    and his paths beyond tracing out!
 “Who has known the mind of the Lord?
    Or who has been his counselor?”
“Who has ever given to God,
    that God should repay them?”
For from him and through him and for him are all things.
    To him be the glory forever! Amen.

Why does Paul start singing in the conclusion of his essay? Isn’t that interesting? Technically, this song is called a doxology, a short song of worship. Its inclusion in Romans is significant. Paul, the religious genius, wasn’t too up tight to sing in the middle of his important work. Instead, Paul had a doxology in his heart just waiting to get out. In fact, he does this all the time in his letters. Paul will just stop his argument and break out into song. For him, doxology was a way of living–his whole being was a song of worship.

Psalm 92 and 96 from today’s GPS remind us of this same idea: our relationship with God ought to spill out into the everyday moments of our lives, causing us to live with a posture of worship and praise. “Sing to the LORD a new song,” Psalm 96 says. “Sing to the LORD, all the earth! Sing to the LORD! Bless his name! Share the news of his saving work every single day!”

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always found this notion hard to wrap my head around. What does it actually mean to live my life in worship? What does it mean to live with a grateful song in my heart… what does it mean for my whole life to be a doxology? It sure doesn’t feel that way in my heart a lot of the time. I can be cynical, frustrated, and burned out. Do you ever feel those things? So often I don’t feel like I have a doxology. So how did Paul do it? How are we supposed to live with a grateful song, like the ones we see in Psalm 92 and 96?

I do have a hunch. My suspicion is that Saint Paul and the writers of these psalms had something figured out. I think they knew that no amount of time reading, learning, or thinking about God can substitute for time spent with God.

That’s the thing, isn’t it? When we’re burned out or frustrated, what’s often the first thing that goes by the wayside? I don’t know about you, but for me it’s that precious time I spend with God. That time gets replaced with other things meant to fix my problems. Even more, though, I convince myself that reading a book, or listening to a sermon, or tuning into a podcast that challenges me intellectually counts as a substitute for that time spent with God. Those things are easier–I don’t have to make myself vulnerable before my creator when I’m listening to a podcast.

But when spending time with God is just as important to us as learning about God, the friendship we find with God fills us with a joy that sings. Every moment of our day can be spent with God, even when it’s hard. Having a doxology in your heart doesn’t mean you burst out into song at the Wal*mart. It just means God is your friend who walks with you–and that you cherish that time spent with your sacred friend and keep it important in your heart.

Never let all your reading, thinking, and philosophizing about God replace that holy time with God. Let a doxology based in friendship sound out from your life: “For from him and through him and for him are all things,” Paul says. “To him be the glory forever! Amen.”