Spirit of Worship

I have a secret past time.
I really enjoy watching people worship. I know it's not exactly a spectator sport. But, for some reason, in the midst of "making a joyful noise" with a body of fellow believers, I sometimes stop singing and observe the people around me.
I mostly find myself observing worship at those times when I may not particularly care for the song, or maybe don't know the words yet. These are times when I could easily become distracted by my preferences and miss out on a corporate worship experience. I suppose God knew of my brief attention span and self-centeredness. Thus, instead of allowing me to be distracted, He opened my eyes to the lyrics, rather than the tune, and to the people around me.
When I "worship-watch" I feel like I'm watching the movement of the Holy Spirit. Somehow the expressions on people's faces, their voices, and their actions cause me to visualize the concept of being sprit-filled or, as my pastor said this morning, "put flesh on it." It's one of the times where I stand in awe of God. And while I may not know the song, I can read or listen to the words, and see the worship of others, and praise God with the inspired words of the songwriter regardless of the tune.
This morning the thought came to mind of the age-old "debate" (as some may call it) over worship "styles" (for some reason I have a hard time using a word synonymous with fashion as a descriptor for honoring and praising the all-powerful, omnicient, holy God of the universe, but I digress...).
You know the "sides" -- people who say they prefer "traditional" worship music and don't care for the modern stuff, can't get "into" praise music, think it's loud, etc.; then there are others who view the traditional hymns and ballads as tired and stale, and would prefer their corporate worship to be akin to their last rock concert experience.
The lines drawn here are largely generational.
I've worshipped with and watched them both.
I've watched the traditionalists in their tidy clothing, hymnals open, organ playing, enjoying the choir....
I've observed the contemporary set, with layered, strappy tank tops and bermuda shorts, jumping up and down, moving to the beat of the drums, practically screaming the lyrics to hear themselves over the bass...

What I've noticed is that while the rhythm of worship may be generational, the Spirit is timeless. The same Spirit that soothes is the One who fires up.
I guess when God opened my eyes to the people worshipping around me, He opened my eyes to Him, in them, moving and breathing.
The living God, alive.

Sea World San Antonio -- out of the mouths of babes

Just returned from our first trip to Sea World with the kids. It rained a lot, but that was a blessing as it provided relief from the heat. The timing of the rain was perfect for us. The downpours always seemed to happen while we were under cover at a show, then it would let up enough for us to make it to the next attraction. At one point, the kids hid under our soaked towels, draped over the stroller canopy, while we made a dash for the next fun thing.

We made the 5-hour trip to San Antonio in a record 8 hours. Yes, you read that right. We left Denton at 10am and arrived at our hotel at 6pm. This included 2 stops for "Help! I dropped my ___," before we even got out of Denton county, one stop at a truck stop north of Waco for a breathing treatment and to eat our sack lunches, and numerous bathroom stops with the newly potty trained Joel. I have to share that he is quite the Mommy's boy and prefers that I help with most tasks, including the bathroom. But, for the sake of efficiency, we tried to split up on these stops and each take one kid. At one stop, Joel didn't want to go with Daddy to the "man bathroom." He wanted to go to the "woman one" with Mommy instead. Thus, he proceeded to throw a fit and yell "Woman! Woman! I want the woman one!" as Matt carried him through a truck stop. I'm sure the other travellers thought nothing of it...

At any rate, we made it to the hotel and had time to walk to the Alamo then catch a river boat tour. The kids really enjoyed it, with Allison exclaiming, "This is the greatest day ever!" as we walked past fountains and waterfalls in the mall on our way to the river.

As our boat departed, the tour guide told everyone that they needed to keep their hands in the boat and their "butts in their seats." The kids were rightfully aghast at the use of the "b" word, and we were thankful that it didn't come up again in conversation. However, once we returned home to Denton I asked Allison if she remembered our first day in San Antonio. She said, "We went for a walk, and went on a boat with a guy who said 'butt'." Somehow I thought the dozen or so baby ducks would have been more memorable for her.

Once we got to Sea World, we had a great time. The kids loved the rides, seeing the animals and getting soaked at the splash park, and we really loved the "Dine with Shamu" experience. We were really close to a killer whale and learned all kinds of facts about them. The kids were impressed that Shamu likes blue jello.

In the evening we would ask the kids to tell us their favorite part of the day. It always took a little coaxing to jog their memories because it seemed that whatever the last thing we did would be their "favorite." For example, when we returned from a full day of fun, spectacular shows, and a close encounter with a 3-ton whale, Joel excitedly told us that his favorite thing was the hotel elevator (the doors of which were covered in a Sea World advertisement), and Allison said hers was jumping in rain puddles in the parking garage.