Liturgy: “Fakeness Makes Me Puke, but…”

What is the King’s Liturgy? King’s Liturgy defines our experience together as a Christian community. It outlines the rhythms we celebrate with the Church at large: Scripture readings, Sabbath habits, and celebration of Holy Days and historical events.

This Week’s Lectionary Readings
Exodus 12:1-14
Psalm 149
Romans 13:8-14
Matthew 18:15-20

This week’s liturgy is contributed by Professor Chris Cragin-Day, assistant professor of writing and theater: 

I have a friend who ends every conversation we have, whether by phone or in person, with something like this, “I just feel so blessed that you are my friend. I am thankful to have you in my life. Our friendship means so much to me. And every time I talk to you I just want to thank the Lord for bringing us together.” And every time there’s this awkward moment of silence following. And it’s not because I don’t feel that way about her. I do, actually. I consider her to be one of my closest friends. One of the few people I can vent to. One of the few people to whom I can tell literally anything. But the thing is, that to express that in that moment, it always feels disingenuous. It feels gross. I actually can’t do it. So I usually just say, “thanks,” or “that’s so nice of you to say,” and then I ask myself, “Why don’t you ever beat her to it? You never beat her to it. That’s totally lame. That’s so wrong.”

I’m not an encourager. I’m not quick to praise. This is true in my friendships and in my marriage and with my God. It’s not because I don’t see good things about others, and it’s not because I’m not thankful to the Lord for all of the bountiful blessings God has showered on my life. I just . . . I hate sentimentality, and fakeness makes me puke. And so I guess I hold impossibly high standards of authenticity for myself when it comes to praise and encouragement. Somehow this glitch doesn’t affect my mothering, but in the rest of my life, it’s a problem.

At first glance, David seems really good at Praising God. But I wonder if, at times, it didn’t come so easily to him either. I wonder if David sometimes wrote the Psalms of praise as a way of training himself to worship. I wonder if it always felt authentic to him, or if, at times, he did it as a discipline, a way of exercising his “praise and worship” muscles.  Maybe it went like this: Praise the Lord. Do it now. Even if you don’t feel like it or if it feels disingenuous. Sing to the Lord a new song. Don’t go through the motions. Sing it like it’s the first time. Refuse to let it be old hat, routine. Rejoice in your maker. Be glad in your true King. Don’t worry about the false one. They mean nothing. Dance your heart out. Beat the drums. Because the Lord likes it when you do that. That’s the reason. There doesn’t have to be another one. Worship is your most powerful weapon against your enemies. It doesn’t feel like it, but it’s true. So do it. Praise the Lord. Praise the Lord now.