Poem: What is Worship?

Meant to be a slam poem so it is better when heard live. 1st Performed on September 5th 2008. Unfortunately nobody caught it on video, otherwise I would have posted it here. But here is the text version, enjoy.

What is worship?
It is a question I must ask myself every time before I begin
You see worship is a journey and not just a bus stop.
Worship will not come to you, because we all come to worship
And So I ask again what is worship?
Use caution when defining
Because worship may not be what you think it is.
Worship is a journey
When my soul is tired, I press on
When I feel dry and dead, I press on
When I don’t feel like doing it I press, on!

And I move forward past myself and what I feel.
I leave myself at the door as I enter into worship
And I see the outer courts of what is called the tabernacle,
Six chapters of Holy Old Testament scripture dedicated to this I see here.
Built to exact specification and regulation
With an outer court, designed as a rectangle
People gathered around but not allowed into the temple itself
Too holy for your average person
But I press on, forward, past everybody that is standing in my way
Past all the problems of my day
Past my “past” itself
And past myself, and my soul begins to move forward
Regardless of what my flesh wants
My soul desires more
And so I move forward

Into the tent itself made of curtains of the most perfect goats hair
And a roof made of the mighty Rams skins
And I see a simple yet difficult division,
This place is designed for the priests only and so my credentials are a bit low
Oh but one greater than myself reserved the right to call me whatever he pleases
And he calls me a chosen person,
He says I am of a Holy nation,
He says I belong to God and oh, what’s this?
He that is above All, says that I am of a Royal Priesthood!
Please enter into the holy place.

I stand inside the Holy place
I see three pieces of furniture
A seven-branched oil lamp stand, a table for twelve loaves of showbread, and straight ahead before the dividing curtain is an altar for incense burning.
As I proceed I come close to the curtain, a veil separating me from whom I am now
To who I will be in the eyes of He
Whose name I cannot speak
Who tells me to take the sandals off my feet
Whose Holiness I cannot reach
Whose presence can change me
From the person that I am now
To who I will be

And yet I do not fit the criteria,
You see, only the high priest,
Sanctified as far as the eye can see
Holiness to the highest degree…
…That you can find in a person like you and me
Only the chief Priest, is allowed to enter into this last room, once a year
And I am not worthy of entering, but I press on
And As I approach something begins to happen
The veil begins to tear from top to bottom
Through the power of he
Who died for me,
Setting me free,
To come and go as I please
And this is worship
Standing face to face
With the creator of grace
The author and pefector of my faith
The one with the Holy ineffable name

Power prevailing over everything that I am
Power that created the Universe
Power that defeats my enemies
Power that makes walls fall
Power that brought Christ from death to life
And that power allows me only to prostrate myself
And I lay there as a dead person
Before the All-powerful, the sovereign, the omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent alpha and omega
And all I can do is be still as he takes away my sin, my comfort, my flesh, my fears,
My worries, my anxieties,
And he takes the “me” away from me
And there, for a few precious moments basking in His presence
...I actually feel free!
And I speak to the one true, living, all powerful, God
Face to face as a man speaks to his friend
I don’t want this moment to end…ever!
And so as everybody leaves and continues as they were
My home I have finally found
I never want to leave this place….ever
Because this here,
Being in this place
Praising God face to face,
That is what I call… Worship