Tag: King

On Being Embarrassed When Worship Songs Seem Sexual

[CAUTION: This post is satirical. Calm down.]

Over-sexualized.

Worship songs? No. Everything.

I’ve been both a victim and a participant in the American cultural norm…Scope out opportunities to rejoin comments with, “That’s what she said.”

(To be sure, the phrase was around long before the TV show “The Office”, but a certain Michael Scott character seemed to usher the phrase into a broad and sweeping cultural vernacular. Am I right?)

So now, it seems thousands of words and phrases are hijacked, and church gatherings are not immune to it either. Or, maybe it’s just me. It can be hilarious, dreadful, or just plain embarrassing. Recently, a few worship songs have sort of had their way with me on this, so to speak.

“Bride of Christ” by Marion Coltman (I thought it was entitled: “Jesus, keep your hands where we can see ’em”) …and it’s all just a bit too much for me.

I didn’t want to think it at the time, but the Casting Crowns song “Your Love is Extravagant” sounded just a little too much like a “friends with benefits” song. Golly, all you have to do is take the “t” off Christ, and you have a fine mess (in my head):

Your Love is Extravagant

Your love is extravagant
Your friendship, it is intimate
I feel like moving to the rhythm of Your grace
Your fragrance is intoxicating in our secret place
Your love is extravagant

Spread wide in the arms of Christ is the love that covers sin
No greater love have I ever known You considered me a friend
Capture my heart again

Spread wide in the arms of Christ is the love that covers sin
No greater love have I ever known; You considered me a friend

Capture my heart again
Your love is extravagant
Your friendship, it is intimate

Don’t get me wrong, Casting Crowns does so many great worship songs I really enjoy. This may be one your favorites, which is fine. I hope it creates a worshipful experience for you, and for everyone, but I get derailed.

Basically, if a worship song talks about touching, my mind wanders. Such as Kari Jobe song:

I wanna sit at your feet.

Drink from the cup in your hand.

Lay back against you and breathe, here your heart beat

This love is so deep, it’s more than I can stand.

I melt in your peace, it’s overwhelming.

 

The fact is love is risky. God is risky…Obviously risky and risqué has sort of been a fine line in songwriting. But, to be honest, I realize that love can often feel awkward as it gets emotionally deeper. When it starts to change and effect us–and affect us. The awkwardness is part of the path to greater spiritual maturity. (In this case, I’ll let you know for sure when I get there.)

Admittedly, the psalms that King David wrote got quite amatory, and for some it feels embarrassing. I can handle David getting up close and personal with God. I’m fine with Song of Solomon’s sexy talk, and David’s passionate poem songs, but maybe in singing those things corporately, we confront those issues of intimacy differently than we do in our times of personal devotions, songs, or prayers. What do you think about it?

I think the challenge, for me, is a renewing of my mind a bit more, and praying for better ears to hear. Thank you for your patience with me, Lord.

Lastly, for all you songwriters out there, if you’re writing something sweet to sing for Jesus, please–for me–don’t put the words “intimate,” “secret place,” and “rhythm” too close together. (It can be a “worship hijack” for some of us, okay, for me.)

When was the last time you felt embarrassed/awkward at the worst time?

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Thorny Crowns

A crown fit for this King, our Sacrifice. Our selfless Savior.

The image and concept of the thorny crown is powerful to me. As heirs of the King, I think our “crowns” are, also, thorns–in this present world. We’re not here for glory in any human sense. Our “success” will look very different. It will be counter-cultural, or even unapparent.

The story of the thorny crown is a provocative one:
Imagine a mighty and good king coming from another place, and he is “welcomed” with the “honor” of huge, piercing barbs smashed down into his head.

This strange irony is such a perfect picture of our rejection of God and his ways. We pick our own way. Absorb the idea that God paid for your foolishness.

The thorny crown is also a most vivid depiction of God’s condescension (click here for and explanation of that precise meaning) to human form to bear our wrongs, and give himself over to our brutality to, in fact, truly redeem it, and pardon it.

Let this crown you see pierce your heart with it’s potency, and the doom that is our rebellion. We need a Savior.

How does the Crown of Thorns affect you?

The Triumphal Entry, or Jesus Takes a Baby Donkey Ride

Palm Sunday art

 

What of this Jesus, and his famous donkey ride?

It seems a bit strange, no?

What is called The Triumphal Entry is celebrated each year, on Palm Sunday, a week before the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ (most often called Easter, which a a variation of the name of a pagan god, but I digress.)

It’ll take you 45 seconds to read the short donkey ride story here: Matthew 21:1-9.

The crowds heading to Jerusalem for Passover feasting were caught up in the pandemonium of this celebrity sensation–a peasant healer from the boondocks, who had just raised a dead man, four days after he died (his friend Lazarus in the town of Bethany).

Hopes were high that this miracle-worker could liberate the Jews from their Roman oppressors. Some 250,000 lambs would be roasted, likely feeding more than 2 and a half million people during this festival. So, the throng was indeed enormous.

In virtual mob hysteria, hopeful Jews stripped nearby palm trees of their fronds, and threw their coats on the road to pave this unorganized and roisterous parade. A hundred years prior, war hero Simon Maccabaeus was welcomed in the same manner after his conquest over Syria. Now Jews  again shouted “Hosanna”, which means “save we pray”. They yelled out the call from Psalm 118:26–a song of deliverance, conquest, and rescue.

Several times previously, Jesus had escaped the momentum of enthralled crowds who hoped to make him their rebel king by sheer force of mob will. Desperation was in the air. They longed for rescue, but Jesus was not that kind of King. He rebuffed all attempts at typical authority, political prestige, religious posturing, or military command.  As he put it to Roman authorities, “My kingdom is not of this world.” He came mildly, to be a selected as our king of hearts, and to have victory over our sin and brokenness–reconciling us again to our Creator, a holy and good God.

Fulfilling a prophecy from Zechariah, hundreds of years earlier (Zechariah (9:9)), Jesus rode a plodding little colt of a donkey into the city. The colt was encouraged to continue by keeping its mother in the lead.

For Jews, the donkey was considered a conveyance for the noble classes, and ridden by Jewish priests or nobility. It was also a helpful metaphor to display the Prince of Peace–the true Savior. It drew a sharp contrast against the mood of the raucous Zealots.

This type of entry marked a vast difference from the Roman commanders who would ride in celebratory victory pageants atop their mighty war horses. Wagons full of pillaged gold and silver rode along with the procession through grand Roman archways. Musicians and carriers of fragrant incense would accompany the cavalcade. Captives and conquered enemy honchos were chained and paraded –all for vanity’s sake.

Many Jews hoped for the dream-Messiah of the military persuasion. That was the glory they wishes for.

Jesus was misunderstood in his entry. The mob would show its intrinsic fickleness when, just days later, in bitter disappointment, they would turn on their would-be Messiah, screaming “Crucify him! We have no king but Caesar!” to the local Roman governor, Pilate.

I have a spiritual challenge to give you this weekend. It is to respond in word and deed to this surprising action of God, in human form.

In Christian circles, this season is sometimes called, Holy Week. It has nothing to do with the week itself, but rather it refers to setting aside time to recount the stories and consider this Prince of Peace: his nature; his life and ministry to the needy, poor, and sick; his unjust execution; and the power of his Resurrection to life, witnessed by over 500 people.

Once confronted with this story that changed the world, each must ask, “Who is this Jesus?” and “How must I respond?” Are we willing to give our heart to this lowly yet almighty King, the Prince of Peace?

How will the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the Messiah change who you become? It is your saving grace.

Please share your thoughts, or Palm Sunday & Eastertide reflections.