Hang around in charismatic circles long enough, and several things will happen.
You’ll get weird side-hugs for a start, like an arm around the shoulder as though you were both posing for an imaginary photographer. That is of course, provided you’ve already successfully navigated your way through the awkward handshake/high-five/embrace moment, when neither of you are quite sure what’s going to happen. That’s always exciting.
There’s more excitement though; it doesn’t stop there! You might get whacked in the face by a bamboo stick that’s been loosely attached to a coloured flag, or treated to a classic display of dad-dancing circa 1987. You could be deafened by a tambourine (or an over-enthusiastic clapper who’s learned to cup their hands but mysteriously not the meaning of the off-beat). Or you might get caught up in a vaguely-formed queue for a coffee-in-a-polystyrene-cup, or just plain old trapped in a row of chairs that have been blockaded by people fervently praying for each other in small groups at either end of the row.
You will be loved though, that’s for sure. It’s kind of inevitable when God shows up.
And that happens a lot: God ‘shows up’, the Holy Spirit ‘turns up’, Jesus makes a sort of appearance, and (don’t misunderstand me) it’s usually great!
I’ve been thinking about that terminology though, today. And it gets stranger the more I ponder it. God shows up.
Weren’t we expecting it?
I mean... we’ve literally gone to his house and spent the best part of four songs and thirty minutes, singing his name and shouting about how good he is. You’d ‘show up’ if it were you too, I reckon. It’s a peculiarly charismatic thing, that tiny element of shock that God was actually there in the middle of our worship time. If I phoned my Dad and asked him to pop over, I’m not sure how he’d react if I opened the door and excitedly said: ‘Oh! It’s you!’ as though I’d been expecting him to stay home instead. It’d be even weirder if it was at his house.
What I think we mean though, is not that God was unexpected, or had somehow gatecrashed our carefully-planned service*. I think what we mean is that he did it in a way that was kind of new and kind of awesome, and the freshness of it was beautifully, wonderfully, miraculously surprising.
As worship team, I think part of our job is to set the table, prepare our environment, and be expectant that God will do something cool in response to our worship, and particularly, our praise. It’s almost as though, he ‘shows up’ when we do, and the Holy Spirit ‘turns up’ in response to our hearts together.
With that in mind, I’m starting to think that the best thing we can do is learn how to create the spaces for him to do... well, exactly whatever he wants to do, even when we have no clue it’s coming! And that takes some time to learn together, and some secret-place-hours to recognise that fragrance by ourselves.
So, what do you think? How do we set the tempo, the pulse, the atmosphere for God to arrive? What could we do?
By the way, I recommend the handshake/high-five/pull into a hug combo. Style it out. And if you’re fed up with getting poked by kids with flagpoles, remember first that God loves little people worshipping, and second that if you’re in the worship band you’re out of reach if you’re behind a microphone. So come join us!
Hopefully.
*If ever you’re stuck for what to pray in the pre-service prayer meeting, might I recommend: “Please come and gatecrash our carefully-planned service.”