In my experience with God, coming
to Him in worship is a glorious thing, and there are several interesting things
that happen when I'm in his presence worshiping.
One of the things that I've
observed that happens in that place is what I am calling freedom in creative
expression. I noticed it first when playing an instrument in a worship band:
it's like I'm a better musician in His presence than I was ten minutes before.
It's certainly easier to sing spontaneously in that place, and my instrument is
more responsive to me there, too.
In some places, we've recognized
that other creative expression is released in worship, and some worship events
now have artists painting during worship. Occasionally a dancer will be part of
the worship ream, too.
Prophetic expression, which I would
argue is also a creative expression, is also freer when in association. That's
why Elisha said "Bring me a minstrel," when he needed to prophesy to
an ungodly king, and why prophetic ministry often comes during or after
worship.
And that's about as far as I've
ever seen it taken, at least publicly.
The question occurs to me: why
should the musicians (and maybe a painter or prophet) get all of the fun? Do we
think that the other gifts don't count as much, or that they wouldn't benefit
from the anointing as much?
Occasionally, I've taken it a
little further. Sometimes during corporate worship, I've snuck off in a corner
and drawn on the anointing that is in God's presence with my writing, or in
study, wielding my teaching gift. I'm sure that others have done this, too;
I've just never met them. (I know: now my secret is out!)
I'd love to experiment with: how
far could we take the idea of exercising whatever gift we happen to have as an
expression of worship?
What would happen if we blessed
teachers and scribes and writers and poets to worship in the corporate
gathering with their gifts, too? What if we made room to experience the results
of their gifting, like we listen to the work of the guitarist's and the
drummer's giftings?
What if we gave space to tattoo
artists, to graffiti artists, to mimes, to potters and sculptors and chefs and
jewelry makers and leather workers and wood carvers and pipe makers and hair
stylists and massage therapists? Who was it that decided that their gifts
weren't appropriate to worship our Heavenly Father with?
Obviously, I'm just letting the
thoughts run free here (as I'm worshipping, actually), but I can't get away
from the question: how far can we take this? How many more people can we
release to worship God in the community with the gifts that God has given them?
(Curiously, as I sat in a small corporate worship environment, compelled to write these thoughts on a mobile device, at the same time a prophet friend of mine, a writer, was outlining the same topic, having been drawn into it unexpectedly in a private time with God.)