It was a particularly long worship song. My favorite worship song actually. With my arms lifted high in the air, my kitchen sink became an altar.
My arms began to ache. You know, right in those deltoids and biceps. I was tempted to put them down, but I needed to press through the pain, and worship.
Sometimes worship hurts.
Sometimes the absolute last thing we want to do is worship. Yes, this morning I lifted my arms in praise. Just in case you think that I wake up every morning with a song in my heart, I can assure you that many mornings, a predisposal to worship is the last thing on my mind. Like this morning.
Satan has a way of lurking in the corner of the bedroom, crouching, ready to pounce the minute the eyelids open. What happened yesterday, or last week, or what came in the mail, or what didn't, the report, the pain, the offense, is the first thing that pops into the mind awake. That's when
Worship becomes a choice.
Worship becomes a battlefield.
"As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning." (Exodus 17: 11) God inhabits the praises of His people, (Psalm 22:3) so His presence is in the praise. If He is in the praise, "enemies turn back; they stumble and perish before [Him]. (Psalm 9:3) He has ordained praise "to silence the foe and the avenger" (Psalm 8:2) Praise is a weapon.
It commands the foe to shut. his. mouth.
Like muscles flexed in exercise, pain always precedes the desired results. As it is in the natural, so it is in the supernatural. Sometimes worship hurts. The arms lifted. The heart aching. The tears streaming. The I don't feel like it.
Because when worship hurts, even a sink full of soapy water can become an altar.