When We Worship...
A Poem for The Lord's Day
The light dawns, bringing with it a special longing;
Though every day is the Lord’s, not every day is The Lord’s Day.
We’re the Lord’s people and in a building, we gather.Â
From the lot to the front door to the greeter,
We see bright smiles, hear familiar voices, feel warm embraces.
We’re broken; imperfect, but we remain whole—complete in Christ.
To teach, to fellowship, to break bread, and pray, when we worship on The Lord’s Day.
We come hoping that there’s more than what meets the eye, more than what is felt, more than what is heard.
Anticipation fills our hearts, anticipation for joy that transcends the transactions of any club or meeting.
Our gatherings matter, they matter more than we can fathom.
In times of prosperity or under the threat of death, we’ve gathered to receive what is supernatural,
Beholding the resplendent glory from a coming age, when we worship on The Lord’s Day.
We didn’t think it up, we didn’t craft, we didn’t sit down and innovate.
The King’s commands are all we need; in them, we delight as we take our seats.
His majesty invites us into His banqueting house, we get a glimpse of a kingdom yet to come.
Kingdom citizens begin by extolling His name—the emblems of the Infinite One magnified.
The King’s light then shines on the darkness of our corruption, yes, the corruption we all still carry within;
Sliced open by His word of conviction only to have His word of pardon sew us back together again.
Grace, grace—it’s by it we repent and upon it, we lay, as we worship on The Lord’s Day.
An ambassador of the King ascends the steps holding the Kingdom constitution,
Our hearts swell with gratitude that the King would now give us Himself in written form.
This ambassador is not an inventor, only a steward; the message must come forth unaltered.Â
Vats of overflowing grace are unleashed—we’re crushed, we’re built, we’re wounded, we’re healed—we’re being fashioned into the stature of the fullness of that heavenly Man.
Admittance into the Kingdom is then granted through water and the Kingdom feast begins.
It’s the bread and the cup we hold high as those made worthy by the blood of the most high.
It’s not a feast that rewards the mighty, the competent, or the strong, but body and blood that stir up the wayward and nourish the weak.
Grace is conveyed to us, in a visible, tangible way, when we worship on The Lord’s Day.Â
After taking our seats at the King’s table, we explode with grateful praise.
He’s strong and kind, gentle and lowly, just and powerful; why would we hold back our hearts and voices?
The King brings one final Word to send us out—once gathered now scattered, as sheep among wolves.
But the King doesn’t send us, sitting lazily on His throne; He goes before us—He’s already overcome, already conquered, already triumphant.
We’re strengthened with the already as we make our way into the not-yet.
We battle ourselves, the world, and the enemy of our souls, until next week when our strength renews once again.
We’ll pursue these ordinary means week after week until one day, there will never be a break from the rest we gain. This sabbath is only a foretaste of the day when the king will come and usher in the eternal sabbath.
It’s unto this hope we gather, it’s with this hope we pray when we worship on The Lord’s Day.Â