music · worship

The Eighth Day

House Number, Eight, Fish, Mosaic, 8, Number, Digit

Do you have an eighth day? One where you worship and weep, One where you sing and allow yourself to escape the world. Where you float on God’s tears Where you are simply there to draw closer to the creator, and not the creation.

Christ’s death on the cross is not just some event that exists in history. It is cataclysmic, it is movement, it is the pinnacle of the world, it is God impaled on wood for us. We argue over when and where we will worship Him, how we will worship, who has the right idea of who is right. And in the meantime we are desecrating His holy body. Worship is not music, it is inside the music, worship is not you on a pew during service, it is your mind on the altar. It is not guitars but the chord, it is not a piece of bread but the body of Christ, it is not a sip of wine it is His precious blood. His body does not fit neatly in our lives. It is bloody and hard to look at. It is sorrowful, We have put Him there. 

If I want to be in the day, I transfer my emotions to Sunday. To the sorrow and the passion, to the one that I know that has risen, face my face towards His face, towards the altar, towards God.

But then I can’t sit here and wallow for the days that precede the eighth day. I have to live in a state of worship. It is a flow, an attitude of praise, a mindset, a mystery. It is a choice. I choose to live in that space. It is hard. It is not neat. People don’t like it, it makes them uncomfortable. But I have chosen to leave my life behind. That includes what they think is right. That includes following the rules of the old way. In the eighth day, the new dawn, the new creation is freedom. I don’t have a rope around my neck anymore, it has been replaced by a rosary.

When I am at peace with my past, when their teeth can’t claim my flesh, when I apply what He has taught me, I am free. That is worship. That’s when I know ingesting Him is the only way as I fall deeper away from the world. That’s when I know I will no longer hear them. I am getting there…

I am in the eighth day. I am walking to Him. His method of living is practical and right, but so hard. I see it as a normalcy, they see me as wrath. I have turned my back on their God. But they don’t yet know that He is my God too. 

That’s why there is rest for the weary. That’s why He created rest. We go and we go and we never stop. We are in a state of perpetual constancy. How could we ever find Him there?

When we allow Him to set the pace, we find Him inside there. This is not theology, this is Christ’s freedom. Christ is not theology. He is God.

I am trying desperately to find that pace. I missed it on my watch. I fell into it when I ran. I am behind or ahead, I am missing Him in places I shouldn’t. My life depends on the breath of the bible. If I let go, I let go…

Worship is messy and rocky. It is inside.

All their works are performed to be seen

So don’t see me. I hope you don’t see me.

Inside of these words.


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