On Sunday mornings, I teach 4 and 5 year olds in a mini-worship environment, and we spend a good bit of time discussing and learning what worshipping God really is. And so, by the time I get into the sanctuary for our corporate worship setting, I am bouncing the concept of worship around in my brain.
The 11:11 service that I attend is small. Only a handful of each demographic of the people that make up our church. Most Sundays I sit by myself. Ocassionally I sit smack dab in the middle of the students (those are particularly worshipful Sundays). So, today, I was on the end of a pew of juniors, thinking about what worship was today. I stress today, because it changes everyday. Today, Worship was...
...laughing. A lot.
...talking to one of the band members (my guitar teacher) until I had to point out that the lights were on and people were waiting for him to come on stage.
...watching the bass player in all his cuteness playing and smiling and singing. (After pointing out to Sam I Am that he's the one with the blue guitar.)
...meaningful looks from me to T and vice-versa that quite clearly said "hey...the pastor's talking about you buddy...")
...a whole room of white people trying to clap along to the song. With no luck. Or rhythm.
...laughing about it.
...getting a demo cd of the custodian's music, and swapping artists to check out. And then listening to it on the way home.
...marvelling at what my church has become in the six years I've worshipped there: a place where creativity flows abundantly and is always encouraged.
All-in-all, I'm pretty sure that whatever today's worship was, it was pleasing to God. And that's all that matters.