Worship

 

 We must never be deceived into believing the hedonistic doctrine that God exists only for our pleasure and happiness. No! Humanity was spoken into existence for one reason, and that is to glorify Him, through our worship of Him.

 

Of all God’s creation, man is the only creature that harbors within his breast a “compulsion” to worship, and we can rest assured that all mankind will worship something. We can see this exhibited in all the religions of the world; even in the pagan and heathen oblations and sacrifices. Even though they do not know or understand the God of the Bible, they still “feel” the need to worship, and this is plainly visible in the many different ways that have been invented over the centuries of time. Even the atheist and agnostic harbor this same desire. Each can become very defensive when confronted as to their belief, or might I say non-belief systems; one has his deep-rooted conviction in the non-existence of a higher power; the other in his argumentative confusion as to whether or not a higher power even exists.

 

Sadly, the Christian, who of all people should fully understand that Christ is to be the object of their worship, still bow before numerous idols; whether it is the idols that have been created in the mind; up to and including the church they attend or their belief systems and traditions. How innumerable are those who worship the god that has been designed within their own minds, rather than the God of the Bible.

  

Is it not astonishing, the lengths to which man will go to defend "his" god?  However, the true God of the Bible needs no one to defend Him, for he is omnipotent. He needs no one to plead His case, for He is omniscient. He does not need anyone to announce His presence, for He is omnipresent.  He does not call or send modern day prophets who try to prophecy new and better ways of worship. No one can circumvent His “word”. God has articulated very well all those things he desires for us to know in the Bible that He has divinely provided for us; we need only believe it.

 

The post-modernist believes that God’s word is only a suggestion for the Christian; that each individual is free to interpret scripture to meet his/her standard of living or belief. They believe that nothing is written in stone; that all scripture is relative.

 

Multitudes of Christians in this modern day are completely satisfied with their own forms of worship and as long as they remain satisfied, they will never seek out the true way, which is "The Way", Jesus Christ. Ignorance is a blissful state in which they are completely comfortable. Their worlds are but tiny, little caves, out of which they dare not venture for fear that the great beast called the “TRUTH” will gain control of their mind and their will. So, they remain in their grottos, feeling secure in the darkness that surrounds them. They harbor no desire to know what might lie in the light outside this minute world, in which they dwell, for after all; as long as things remain unseen and unheard and are not believed as factual, they are nonexistent…are they not?

 

 Sam Everett

The Tree

Somewhere in God’s great sovereign plan

A seed fell to the ground

And there it lay until the day

No life in it was found

 
A drop of dew then made its way

Into its withered heart

New life began and there in the sand

It found a brand new start

 
It reached into the earth below

Its root to take abode

Then upward grew a sprout anew

A tree began to grow

 
Then as the years began to pass

It stretched higher to the sky

Its trunk at last could hold it fast

When strong winds began to fly

 
Children played on its strong limbs

And there beneath its shade

The elders sat and pondered at

How stately it was made

 
Just as planned there came a day

When it would be brought down

Deep in its trunk an ax was sunk

Till it lay prostrate on the ground

 

As its limbs were trimmed away

No one could have ever thought

That this stately tree someday would be

A cruel Roman cross

 

When it arrived at the Roman’s mill

The crew quickly stripped its bark

Every man with his tools in hand

Helped to do his devilish part

 

“Do not make the timber smoothe

One was heard to say

“Leave the splinters there that they may tear

More of the flesh away”

As years would come and years would go

Too many times it would be used

To any man who would dare to stand

Against the Roman law and rule

 

Then one dark and fateful night

A man bowed in a garden place

His brow wet with bloody sweat

As it dripped from his strained face

 

 Then with a kiss to his holy cheek

The mob hurried him away

But no one looked as this tree was took

Just outside the city gate

As it lie in wait for its next prey

A man’s flesh was torn from bone

With each dread swing a whip did sing

With evil hissing tones

 
The scourge lay hard upon his back

The soldiers laughed with evil sense

At this young man whose tender hand

Was never lifted in defense

 
Then as the night was chased away

By the early morning light

The tree there lay outside the gate

Just barely out of sight

 
A crowd had gathered in the square

To condemn an innocent man

Each of their cries produced more lies

Until the governor washed his hands

 
He then was marched outside the walls

Where he saw there on the street

This tree he’d made for this dread day

They now would finally meet

 
When it was laid upon his back

He reeled beneath its dross

Yet for this alone it had been grown

To become his heavy cross

 
Atop the crest of a barren hill

No mercy would be shown

Soaked in blood on this splintered wood

Its maker was roughly thrown

 
Driving nails through human flesh

Was one Roman soldier’s role

With hammer in hand he impaled this man

To this specially fashioned pole

 
Soon life was seized by deaths strong throes

A last breath was slowly spent

The heavens shake and the earth did quake

The temple’s veil in twain was rent.

 
While still suspended on this tree

A spear was thrust into his side

On this chilling day sin’s debt was paid

As God incarnate died

 
The spikes were pulled from his lifeless hands

He was wrapped in linen white

And was carried soon to a borrowed tomb

Where he would spend those lonely nights

 
Soon after this tree was hauled away

Death would lose its mighty reign

For he who was dead would do as he said

And take up his life again

 
It’s hard to imagine that in God’s great plan

A simple seed could someday be

The altar made on which the lamb was laid

As a sacrifice for you and me

 
Yes a tiny seed of God’s design

Would be used by his great power

To become a cross that would bear our loss

That his kingdom could be ours

 

Sam Everett