Made to Worship

I went to Virginia Beach this weekend with a group of beautiful Catholics. And for this group, a retreat team, that description is accurate, both inside and out. I find myself surprised by glimpses of this beauty because I thought I already knew about it... and then a sideways glance or an offhand comment brings it to light all over again.

Another tidbit about the group that constantly surprises me, though it should not: we all have very different styles of spirituality. We show our love for Christ and others in so many different ways.

Swept up in moments of divine glory, I am a fling-my-arms-to-the-sky, talk-to-the-stars, dance-in-the-rain type of pray-er. I also draw close to God through music. On the way home, one of the guys on the team mentioned that singing (specifically in the context of leading worship music) was not the type of prayer for him. Yet music is a huge part of his life, and this revelation confused me: why do I, whose knowledge of and skill in music are about equal and about nil, pray powerfully through many types of music, while he lives an experience very much the opposite?

2 Corinthians 12:9-10: "He said to me: 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect through weakness.' I will rather boast most gladly of my weakness, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me. Therefore I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and constraints, for the sake of Christ; for when I am weak, then I am strong."

Shouldn't this apply to prayer as to anything else? If we pray best through our weaknesses, it completes the glory of God and reminds us that only through His grace can we pray at all. Weaknesses and constraints in prayer, whether a poor singing voice or a feeling of emptiness, can act as God's tools to strengthen us and our dependency on Him.