The Year the Worship Service (that Almost Didn't Happen) Happened

"Be Still and Know..."

Time to Worship, Part One

My granddaughters and me at our mountain cabin. Summer, 2017

Summer 2017

Choosing dates that suited everyone for our annual mountain trip wasn’t easy that year. Unfortunately, Sunday morning needed to be included. Even though we would be away from our church, I wanted Sunday morning to be a special time of worship for my granddaughters. Sometimes my ideas for meaningful devotional moments work out splendidly. And then there are other times that… Well, you’ll need to read the whole story.

It was a risky plan to begin with. I feared my granddaughters might refuse to cooperate. Would the girls, ages seven, eight, and nine, be willing to turn off the cartoons to design and lead a time of worship on Sunday morning? You can imagine my delight when, instead of complaints, pleasant squeals and cheers rose at my suggestion.

They immediately began throwing out their ideas.

One ran to find a Bible. Another offered to choose songs.

“We can make bulletins to pass out”.

“And take up an offering!”

I removed myself from the team to sit back and watch them in action. My grandma’s heart beamed with pride as I observed the makings of a beautiful worship service coming together.

The climatic moment of this planning session came when one of the girls pointed out the need for a “pulpit”. All three agreed it should be a special place for the speaker to deliver the devotional. They determined it should be an elevated space, center stage, above those seated during the service.

A flurry of action followed. The girls pulled tables, gathered pillows, and arranged chairs. When the makeshift pulpit was finally complete, each tried it in on for size... And each felt it suited them perfectly. That was the moment everything began to unravel.

It started as a gentle rumble, each girl suggesting she be the one who would speak from the front. When none volunteered to take her name out of the hat, the rumble took on more of a thunderous quality. Feet stomped, voices screeched, doors slammed.

The jolt that catapulted me out of my grandma-pride coma was painful. In such a short time, my sweet worship team had dissolved into an angry group of little girls insisting it be all about themselves. After a quick prayer, I shook off the residue of my burst bubble and called the girls together to announce a mutiny. Granny Mac was taking over. The first order of business was to dismantle the elevated pulpit.

When the last pillow was put away and the furniture pulled back into place, the girls sat for a devotional moment of my own. Harsh scowls softened and stiffly crossed arms relaxed as I began with a reminder of Jesus’ words to His disciples: The first shall be last and the last shall be first.

It wasn’t the message I came prepared to present, but it was an appropriate introduction. I allowed a minute for the blanket of peace to warm the room before opening my Bible to proceed. Psalm 46:10...

"Be still and know that I am God...."

There was no need to pound them with the message. They knew. The chaos of their worship-service-gone-wrong was still ringing in their ears. In the frenzy of orchestrating a service, they failed to acknowledge one essential element. The presence of God.

It was as if God Himself had written the introduction to the activity I had planned for my granddaughters that morning. The stillness that filled the room was in sharp contrast to the noise only moments before. Now was the time to work on “and know that I am God.”

I felt God’s smile the moment I opened our cabin’s door to lead the girls outside. The fresh mountain air welcomed us to a worship service already in progress. Nature was bursting in praise of her Creator.

I passed out pencils and paper and pointed each girl to a space where they could be alone. In a quiet space of my own, I settled down for a time where I, too, could “be still and know”. 

For the following ten minutes, we said nothing. We listened. We observed. We bathed in the beauty of God's creation and recorded every evidence of His presence in that moment. No doubt, the Artist was at work, brushing strokes of color from His easel and layering His masterpiece with splashes of perfume and a symphony of music.

I filled the page with sights and sounds that awed me.

• A stream of the sun's rays stretching through a pillow of clouds

• The spicy-sweet smell of a nearby hickory nut tree

• The soothing music of a nearby waterfall, peppered with a chorus of crows' calls

I glanced around the mountain path and watched pencils moving quickly across the blank lines of my granddaughter's papers. The silence broke as we gathered back together to read from our lists of God sightings. Our prayers of gratitude were genuine. Though separated by generations, we were welcomed into God's worship service as one.

I looked back at the mountains as we loaded the car to head home that morning. I was reminded of the words of Isaiah 55:12

 "You will indeed go out with joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands." 

Good work, mountains. Amen, trees.

God spoke from the pulpit of His creation. One weary granny and three proud little girls stilled themselves and listened. Indeed, worship happened that day.

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Coming up!

Winter, 2024

Grandkids' Mountain Retreat

I'm still unpacking my suitcase from this year's mountain retreat with the grandkids. It’s been six and one-half years since the Worship-Service-That-Almost-Didn’t-Happen, happened. The little girls are now teenagers, and two young grandsons have been added to our number.

Keep your eyes open for my next blog, "Be Still and Know, Time to Worship, Part Two". I’ll let you know if the sound of God's voice rose above the noise of some very anxious hearts.

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Part Two has been posted! Click here to read about 2024's Mountain Retreat. A "Be Still and Know" Lesson and free downloadable activity page is included!