Scott Jasmin

How should I stand?

Posted by yourfriendjaz on April 22, 2011

I have a posable artist’s mannequin that sits on my desk. I keep it there because it used to belong to my Grandmother who was an artist. Occasionally he makes a cameo during a Skype session, but mostly he (I’ve personified him) just stands on my desk in whatever pose I last gave him.

As I looked at him today I thought about what pose to put him in to make him look like a worship leader. I could have him holding a little guitar. I could put a little handmade boom stand in front of him. Or perhaps he plays keyboard. I could live out my keyboarding dreams vicariously through him. I could raise his arms to the heavens and tilt his little wooden head to the sky. I could place him in a kneeling position or even face down and prostrate.

No matter what the pose, however, he never really looks like he’s worshiping, just posing.  I guess part of it is that he has no face, and therefore no facial expression. Also, he’s inanimate, so he never moves. The fact that he’s silent doesn’t help either. But I think perhaps the biggest reason he never looks like he’s worshiping is because he’s not alive! Any and all appearance of worshiping is being projected on him by me!

Then I thought, “Am I any different?”

I mean, do I do the things I do when I lead worship because of what I think others are expecting me to do? Do I raise my hands because of that Carman concert I went to in the 90′s? Do I kneel because we’re singing a song that talks about kneeling? Do I lie prostrate to impress others with my humility? (Let that one sink in for a while…)  Lord, I hope not.  I want to live a life of genuine worship.

God created me, Jesus saved me, and I am thankful.  That thankfulness gets expressed at various times and in all sorts of different ways.  Here are a few top-of-my-head examples: the warmth in my heart that I feel when my wife of 25 years smiles at me as only she can; the connection I feel when I hug my kids; the fulfillment of caring for patients recovering from surgery; the serenity I experience when I’m all by myself on a lake in northern Minnesota casting for pike;  the enchantment of going for a walk in Autumn, the mixed emotions felt at the loss of  a loved one.

God is omnipresent.  He is as much a part of our songs and prayers at 10:30 Sunday morning as he is when we cut a peanut butter sandwich or clean out our gutters.

Life is worship.  And it doesn’t matter how we stand.  The only thing that matters is the condition of our heart and our relationship with the God that created it.