Sometimes, I can’t tell if our worship leaders are just so good that I get caught up in the emotion and inspiration of the moment, or if the Holy Spirit is really accosting me. Either way, I was down at our college service just recently when I had that urge to throw my hands in the air and surrender my everything to Jesus. This happens frequently and not just during corporate worship. It happens in the shower when God has me alone and wants to talk. Sometimes, it happens in the car, even when I’m listening to secular music because God likes to talk to me through that stuff, too. I think I raised my hands one time while in bed, too. Basically like a sleep walking zombie, except that I was entirely conscious. Jesus was talking and that’s my way of saying I wanted more.
As one of those Christians, (creepy hand-raiser, even around other people) I experienced a dilemma the other night. Have you ever met a home-schooled kid who used his arms to bar himself from everyone else? It isn’t just them, I believe most people with confidence issues do this. I did when I started going to church because Christians were terrifying and I didn’t want any of them to hug me. Unoccupied arms provide something to hide behind. My arms, waving over my head provide no social security at all. Which is what I needed that night.
I was singing about Jesus and his glory when a distracting thought hit my mind. I felt a breeze. Normally I wouldn’t think too much of this and would probably appreciate it, but it was one of those drafts that makes one think that perhaps something important hadn’t been closed. Or zipped up.
In my most spiritual manner, I pulled my hands down, clasped them together and bowed my head. My eyes popped open and I stared at the zippered portion of my jeans. They didn’t appear to be open, but something definitely felt wrong. I stared at my mid-section until the end of the song, trying to figure out if my original perception had been correct.
Having decided that everything was in place and being moved by the Spirit, my hands made their way to that place of abandon above my head once again. Unfortunately, the feeling came back! A slight draft implicating that I was experiencing a wardrobe malfunction made me panic. Again my head and hands dropped and I took on my most pensive position and examined myself. Jesus was gone by this point, as I was more concerned about showing my neighbors the color of my underwear than giving my Savior praise.
Eventually, I walked out of service to the mens’ room where I could check and make sure that everything was in its place. My zipper was up and I was safe. I couldn’t account for the feeling of vulnerability that occurred to me with my hands up, but it certainly provided me with a great metaphor.
★ ★ ★
Our flaws will come out, even when in the process of praising the One that saved us. When this happens, we can allow ourselves to be distracted from worshiping the most genuine Lover we’ll ever encounter and basking in His adoration, or we can press though. He won’t love us any less, regardless of what’s exposed. Once we’re aware of a problem though, it’s our job to make sure it’s taken care of because otherwise, the girl with the microphone at the front of the room will know that your undies are actually purple and that’s a problem.