“Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.” This means what HE wants, trumps what I want, every single time. Romans 12:1. My body has been a real pest lately, it’s aching in all sorts of places, not to mention the place I know I hurt when I broke my upper arm. My thinking processes have also kind of wafted away into the ether, clouded by pain drugs. Just as an aside, taking drugs that fog your brain humbles you – trust me.

The above scripture from Romans talks about being ALIVE whilst you are being sacrificed. So far I am not liking my limited experience in this area very much! Worshipping God in this way is challenging, to say the least. And it seems to be catchy. Currently, my dear hubby hardly sits down, and as he is still recovering from surgery with his hand, we both bear a striking resemblance to a pair of muddle-headed wombats. Being a living sacrifice is not as romantic and golden, and gloriously other-worldly, as it’s cracked up to be. So what does all this have to do with worship? The point of being a living sacrifice is that you have lost control of not only what your destiny is, but what comes next.

And then I thought of something…if I’m dead, whilst I am still alive, then what happens to me NEXT is also not my responsibility, it’s His. So now I’m praying when some new unfounded joy turns up, that the Lord will please help me to discover some new revelation about Him. Meanwhile, if Jesus needs my bashed up body, then that’s OK too. At the moment I keep find new places I didn’t know hurt…bumping down the stairs frontwards will do that to ya. But now it isn’t hard at all to hand my body over to Jesus, cos I don’t feel all that precious about it any more …😂   …And I thought growing old was not fun.   

Back to my point … this particular process only hurts if you stop at partially dead, you have to go all the way to ALL dead. That’s when you don’t give a darn. Plus this kind of permanent worship is a series of decisions, sometimes made minute by minute. 

Nowhere in this blog today am I going to talk about lustily singing songs and waving of arms, dancing before the Lord – no smoke machines either! Instead, there’s a lot more, “Praise the Lord anyway … ow!” Worship is about giving Him the only thing I actually really have to give: ME. True worship means I show Him what He is worth to me. 

I have come to two conclusions: I can complain my head off and feel miserable and make everyone around me miserable, or I can present my body, such as it is, look at Him and say, “I have no idea how You are going to get me out of this, but You will, and I’ll get a testimony out of it while I’m at it.” People love testimonies, that’s because testimonies make this life sound easier. However smarter people than me have figured out that in order to have a testimony, first you have to have a test!

Worship is settling the matter of Who’s in charge here, and I found out that it’s NOT me! Don’t we all hate it when our tidy plans, neatly wrapped little lives start unravelling? But we can still worship by giving up our right to complain, whilst stuff like this is happening. Almighty God does not need us to tell Him how special He is, He’s got loads of beautiful beings around the throne doing it better than we ever could. But that tired, pained little voice crying out for the umpteenth time always turns His head. Read the book.

Somebody smarter than I once said, “Christians should be either coming out of trouble, crawling through trouble, or falling into it..”  At this stage if I could find ‘trouble’, I’d do the unthinkable – I’d throttle it! It’s funny how quickly we can go from “Praise you Jesus, welcome Holy Spirit, what a wonderful Father” to “Help! Still stuck Lord!” That’s because worship is about Him, not us. It always has been, it always will be. So if I want to truly worship it starts with “I surrender”, and “I give up,” and then rushes into the arms of a Saviour Who knows about pain and suffering, firsthand. Bye. 👋🏻