Before I leave the scene at the well, there's one more snapshot I want to look at. The woman told Jesus that the well was deep and He had nothing to draw with. Jesus told the woman that He had living water. Then, Jesus proves His omniscience by telling the woman that she has been married five times and is currently living together with someone she isn't married to. Drop the mic, Jesus.
But, of course, he doesn't. He isn't there to just prove how holy He is. He's there to invite her to Himself. So they continue chatting. She is convinced now that He is a prophet, but seems to be mixed up about how she should respond to that realization. She says- "Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you Jews claim that the place where we must worship is in Jerusalem." I think her expectation was for Jesus to tell her that she needed to choose one spot or the other. I wonder if she really felt welcome to worship at either?
But Jesus's answer isn't what she expected. He says, "a time is coming and has now come when the true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and in truth, for they are the kind of worshipers the Father seeks. God is spirit, and his worshipers must worship in the Spirit and in truth."
When I started this journey into identity-seeking, my identity was messed up. I had left my job, so I wasn't the hard-working teacher and coach with busy, long, purposeful days. I had gotten married, so I wasn't in control of my environment or even my emotions in the way that I had been when I was single. I had moved to Austin, so I wasn't surrounded by friends who accepted and loved me. And I was beginning to feel the first rush of rejection, and I couldn't get over how bad it felt. I was trying to write a book- this book- a book about identity. And I couldn't. I couldn't get the words right. My heart and mind were too black with pain and confusion.
I'm learning that people seem to worship in a way that's unique to them. For me, that's writing. When I was in that painful place, I was still writing- trying to work it out, trying to write a story about a God who is worthy. Each noun, verb and adverb inching me into His victory. I tried to know Him through my words. It helped. It hurt. It didn't come together to be the book that I wanted. But, I let the words that I did have come out- because, for me, to silence the words is to cease to worship.
My mom has told me that she worships best when she's out in her yard. She loves to see what God has created. Her heart glorifies Him when she's among her bulbs and pots and Round-Up can.
Andy worships in song. He loves to hum and sing along to music- whether that's "worship" music or hymns or Simon and Garfunkel.
I know people who worship when their feet pound pavement, when their eyes gaze upon mountains, when their ears hear the lap of water against the sides of a boat. I know people who paint portraits of God with camera lenses and oil-based colors. I know people who worship God when they're on their knees, and people who worship God when they're standing up for justice. I know people whose worship is most beautiful when surrounded by others, and people who worship best in solitude. Worship is as diverse and creative as the One who seeks the worshipers.
Another thing I'm learning about worship is that our chosen acts of worship bless God and one another. When my mom worships in her garden, her heart song is within my ear shot. I walk along the streets of my neighborhood naming the spring flowers and budding trees for my children, an echo of her cry to the Creator. When I dig in my garden, I mix soil and metaphors, designing and creating- my hands in soil, my mind in prose. When Andy overcame his fear of singing in public and boldly put on a choir robe for the Christmas Eve service, his voice joined others and together their song lit up the night and the season.
Jesus says that His Father is seeking worshipers. Truthful, Spirit-filled worshipers. To answer that call to worship could be the most important snapshot thus far. Because saying yes to worship means that I am saying yes to the truth. I'm saying yes to believing that He seeks me. I'm saying yes to a God who wants the me that He meant to make, not the me that other people wish that I had been.
Worshiping God in Spirit means being directed by the Maker to worship Him in ways that please Him, His own Spirit designed and filled ways. But I'm learning that such worship is far from constrained. Worshiping in the Spirit can happen in traditional services where the same anthems and creeds are read week by week. It can happen in giant auditoriums where people throw their hands into the air and let the tears stream down their cheeks. It can happen when fingers and feet make the pipes of an organ groan. The Spirit can pick a banjo or strum an acoustic guitar. The Spirit can fill baptismal waters and offering plates. Or it can strip a building bare and fill it with just people. There are almost no rules when it comes to worship. The methods are beautiful, diverse and full of freedom. The heart and the Object are the only things that cannot change.
Worshiping God in truth can be a little trickier. It means intentionally turning away from the lies of this world. For me, that means rejecting my rejection. It means accepting my acceptance. It means that in this moment, while dirty clothes litter my floors and baby dishes clutter my counters, I stop and I write this. It means letting God know- and maybe others know too- that I am not okay sometimes. That I am seeking. That I am hurting. That I am healing. It means letting the real shine through. All the while placing my mind, and my heart and my hope completely and utterly in the hands of the One, True Savior.
That's what the woman at the well figured out, in the end. She says to Jesus, "I know that Messiah is coming. When he comes, he will explain everything to us."
Jesus replies, "I, the one speaking to you- I am he."
He is explaining who He is. And, as He explains who He is, it explains who I am. I am a worshiper.
Thank you for reading my worship.
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