'Our worship is not silence, it’s speaking up for the vulnerable'

I’ve been thinking a lot throughout this season about what is our true and proper worship. 

As a worship leader, I have a responsibility in stewarding our Sunday gatherings to Jesus through music and song.

Over this past month, I’ve noticed the crafting of our own narratives and commentaries of what’s going on in Minnesota. 

I’ve found that when these commentaries (mine included) take precedence over the actual cries, grief, and hurt of a city, it’s when hardness and callousness of heart start to form. Where the blinders to those around us start to come down. It’s where we start to be formed by our own opinions, ideas, politics or solutions, rather than by the love of Jesus.

Isaiah 58, I believe, provides insight into the heart of God and captures our calling in this moment; 

“to loose the chains of injustice, to break the cords of oppressive yokes, to set the captives free, that we share our food with the hungry, that we clothe the naked, that we provide the wanderer with shelter.”

It grieves Him deeply to see families separated, people in fear of leaving their homes, to hear the dehumanization of image-bearers just because of where they’re from or what they look like. To see division and polarization, which have frequently led to violence. He weeps for the deaths and decay of our city.

It grieves him to see His sons and daughters be formed by our own political opinions, narratives, or whatever it is the algorithm has us on. That we be indifferent or silent to the suffering. 

So, what is our response during a time such as this?

It’s to align our own commentary to the Lord’s. It’s to mourn with Him, grieve with Him, and weep with Him. 

It’s to stand and speak up for the oppressed, to care for those in need, to love our neighbors who look or think differently than we do.

It’s to bring healing and repair even in what may seem to be a small form; groceries on a doorstep, a meal, a prayer, friendship, or a simple text to our neighbors letting them know we are here, and we see you, and we are with you.

Our worship is not silence, it’s speaking up for the vulnerable, and prophetically stewarding others to the heart and hope of Jesus.

Below is a prayer, a song, that was born from a day where I had woken up with both Romans 12 and Isaiah 58 on my mind. Both Scriptures telling of God’s heart, as well as how we should respond. 

Join me in singing, crying, and contending for Jesus to form us, and mold us in who He is.

Lord, 

Teach us to love like you,

Help us be more like you,

Fill us with compassion and glory,

With justice and mercy,

May we be formed by you

Lead us to mourn with you 

To grieve with you 

Give us Your eyes to the suffering

Bring light to the weeping

For you make all things new

Come Jesus Come

Let your glory come 

For we shall overcome

O Come, King Jesus, Come

Amen