Category: Faith After 50

Dear Church,

This is not a suggestion. This is a rebuke given in love.

We must confront a pattern that has quietly taken root in our congregations: a casual, irreverent, and dismissive attitude toward the time of worship that precedes the preaching of the Word. What we have normalized, Scripture calls disorder. What we excuse as habit, heaven sees as dishonor.

Week after week, worship begins—and many of God’s people are not present. The call to stand is given, yet conversations continue. Laughter carries on in the aisles and lobby. Coffee is poured. Greetings linger. People drift into the sanctuary as though the presence of God has not already been invited to fill the room. The first song ends, the second is halfway through, and only then do some finally decide it is time to participate.

Let us be clear: this is not a minor issue of preference or personality. It is a matter of reverence.

“Guard your steps when you go to the house of God.”
—Ecclesiastes 5:1

Worship is not the prelude. It is not the warm-up. It is not background noise while we finish our conversations. The worship team is not a band filling time until the “real” part of the service begins.

Worship is the people of God responding to the holiness of God.

“God is spirit, and those who worship Him must worship in spirit and in truth.”
—John 4:24

When we habitually arrive late, disengaged, distracted, or indifferent, we are not merely disrespecting a team—we are demonstrating what we truly believe about God’s worth.

Arriving late to worship affects more than just you. When you slip in after worship has begun, you disrupt those who honored the call to be on time, pulling their focus from God to accommodate your seat. Coffee, conversation, and convenience should never take priority over inviting His presence. This is not neutral—it is disruptive and dishonors the sacredness of the moment.

The worship team does not stand on that platform for applause or performance. They carry a spiritual burden. They labor for hours in rehearsal and in prayer, often unseen and uncompensated, so that the body of Christ may be led into the presence of the Lord. They come prepared to serve, yet many in the congregation come prepared only for convenience.

This should grieve us.

Worship is not passive. It is participation. It is submission. It is sacrifice. It is an offering of ourselves before the Word is ever preached.

“I appeal to you… to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship.”
—Romans 12:1

Ask yourself honestly: if your employer required you to be ready at a certain hour, would you make a habit of strolling in late and always expect grace? If a judge summoned you to court, would you stop for coffee first? If a wedding ceremony began, would you walk in halfway through the vows and see nothing wrong with it?

Yet we do this before the King of Kings.

We understand punctuality when it affects our income, our reputation, or our relationships. But when it comes to the Lord, we often offer Him what is left over—our leftover time, our divided attention, our delayed obedience. And delayed obedience is still disobedience at some point.

Church, this should not be so.

We were created to worship.
We were formed to bow.
We were designed to lift our voices in reverence and awe.

“Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.”
—Psalm 95:6

Worship prepares the soil of the heart. It softens us. It humbles us. It aligns us with the holiness of God so that when His Word is preached, it does not fall on hardened ground. To neglect worship is to come unprepared to hear Him speak.

If we have treated worship casually, we must repent.
If we have prioritized comfort and coffee over reverence, we must repent.
If we have shown up late without conviction, disengaged without remorse, distracted without shame—we must repent.

“If My people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven.”
—2 Chronicles 7:14

Repentance is not regret. It is change.

It means planning to arrive early.
It means entering the sanctuary with intention.
It means silencing distractions, ending conversations, and standing ready to worship when the first note is played.

“Let all things be done decently and in order.”
—1 Corinthians 14:40

Let us once again treat worship as sacred.
Let us honor those who lead us.
Let us revere the God we claim to serve.

The Lord is worthy—not of our leftovers, but of our first and our best.

“Ascribe to the Lord the glory due His name; worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness.”
—Psalm 29:2

Church, it is time to act like we believe that is true.

One of my favorite Christmas movies is The Bishop’s Wife. There’s a scene—my mom’s favorite—where Cary Grant’s character, Dudley, counsels Professor Wutheridge (played by Monty Woolley). They’re sharing a bottle of wine, and every time Wutheridge goes to refill their glasses, he finds Dudley’s already full. In the background, we see Dudley discreetly lift his finger, using his angel abilities to refill not only the glasses but the bottle too.

I thought about that scene this morning during my walk with Percy. I was saying my usual “good mornings” to God. (I don’t have super wordy prayers anymore unless I feel led by the Spirit. Mostly, I just talk to Him throughout the day—simple, honest, real.) I was appreciating the beauty of a brand new morning when suddenly a quote from Anne of Green Gables drifted into my mind:

“Tomorrow is fresh, with no mistakes in it.”
—Lucy Maud Montgomery

And right there, on that quiet walk, I felt a rush of relief and peace. If you’re a Failed Perfectionist like I am, you know exactly why that line hits so deeply. There’s something comforting about knowing you get a whole new set of chances each day. Most nights, perfectionists fall asleep trying to outrun the list of everything we didn’t get right. So waking up to a clean slate feels like someone lovingly wiped down the whiteboard of our minds.

Then another reminder came, this time from Scripture—Lamentations 3:22–23 (ESV):

“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”

God’s mercy is new every morning. Fresh. Abundant. Undeserved. Prepared ahead of time. Never failing.

For someone like me—someone who is chronically hard on herself—that truth needed to sit with me for a while. And as it did, the Holy Spirit brought that scene from The Bishop’s Wife back to mind. Just like Dudley kept refilling the professor’s glass over and over, God continually replenishes us with mercy, grace, favor, and love. Every time we draw from His supply, He instantly refills. And unlike Dudley, He doesn’t even wait for morning to do it.

I know this might sound simple to some, but God knows how He made me. He knows my process-driven brain. He knows I’m a visual learner. He knows if I don’t understand something fully, I’ll get frustrated—and then I’ll quit. So He gives me examples I can see, feel, and picture. He meets me exactly where I am.

He knows us perfectionists so well.

So as you head into your weekend—and as you wake up tomorrow morning—remember this: there is brand new, shiny, untouched mercy waiting for you. More than enough mercy. It never runs out. It never grows stale. You will never reach the bottom of the glass or the bottle.

Because He is a God of more than enough.

“So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands.”
Psalm 63:4 (ESV)

Years ago, I walked through one of the darkest seasons of my life. I was battling depression and anxiety with no professional support. My marriage was falling apart. I felt like I was trapped in a deep well—so deep that even God seemed unable to reach me. I had two toddlers running around, needing me every minute, and I felt like life was crumbling faster than I could hold it together.

I remember one night especially clearly. After yet another argument with my husband (now ex-husband), I tucked my babies into bed, walked to the couch, and broke down. I cried because I didn’t see a way out. I wanted to be strong for my girls. I wanted to be a better wife. But I had no idea how to climb out of the hole I was in. God felt so far away, and I felt like a failure.

Then, out of nowhere, a familiar Scripture came to my heart:

“Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.”
1 Thessalonians 5:16–18

Praise and worship had always been my favorite part of church. I’ve always loved to sing, and at the time, I was on the praise and worship team at my local church. I knew the power of praise. I knew what it meant to lift my hands. But in my depression, I couldn’t even find the strength for that.

I remember admitting to God, “I’m not sure I can even lift my hands anymore. I don’t even know why I should.”

And in that still, gentle way God speaks to our hearts, I heard Him ask,
“When your babies lift their hands to you, what does that mean?”

I answered, “It means they want me. They want me to pick them up and hold them.”

Then He said, “And what happens when you hold them?”

I replied, “They’re comforted. They feel loved. They feel safe in my arms.”

And God whispered,
“Then lift your hands to Me, daughter. Let Me lift you up and hold you. I will comfort you, love you, and make you secure in Me.”

From that day on, lifting my hands in worship became easy—not because life got easier, but because I understood. I remembered how it felt to lift my hands that night and be lifted by Jesus in return. In those moments, depression and anxiety melted away while I rested in the arms of my Heavenly Father.

Was life perfect afterward? No. The abuse in my marriage became adultery, which eventually led to divorce. My girls and I had to learn a whole new way of life. But none of that overshadowed what God had shown me:
Whenever the waves felt too strong, all I had to do was lift my hands—and He would lift me higher.

Today, my daughters are grown. They haven’t received this revelation yet, and they’re still shy in worship. But I’m not worried. I know their own conversation with God is coming. One day they will lift their hands, and when they do, God will hold them, comfort them, provide for them, and reveal Himself not just as their Heavenly Father—but as their Daddy.

Maybe you’re like I was—sitting in your own well of darkness or heaviness. Maybe you need to be lifted up, too. If so, can I pray for you?

A Prayer for the One Who Needs to Be Lifted

Heavenly Father, we love You so much. Thank You for Your Word that gives us everything we need in every season. Your Word tells us to praise You in all circumstances. And You know, Lord, that sometimes that’s hard. Sometimes we don’t have the strength. Sometimes our hands feel too heavy to lift.

But You are a Father who desires our freedom. You want us to know You not only as Abba but as Daddy. So today, by faith, we lift our hands to You. And as we lift our hands, we ask You to lift us up. Hold us close. Wrap us in Your arms. Let us feel comfort, security, and love. Thank You for pulling us out of the pit and placing our feet on solid ground.

We thank You and praise You for all this, in Jesus’ name.
Amen.

Some mornings, I wake up and life feels…ordinary. Or maybe a little heavy. The house is quiet for a moment, and I sip my coffee, watching sunlight spill across the kitchen table, thinking of all I have—and yet sometimes still feeling restless. Psalm 118:24 gently reminds me: this day is a gift from God.

“This is the day the Lord has made…” Every single day. Not just the spectacular days when everything goes right, but also the mundane, messy, ordinary ones. The days filled with dishes and laundry, phone calls and errands, or the moments spent watching my granddaughter toddle across the room with pure delight. God made this day, just as it is, with all its ups and downs, and He invites me to recognize it as His handiwork.

“…we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Rejoicing is not always effortless. Sometimes it takes conscious effort to shift my perspective from what’s missing or what’s hard, to what’s present and good. That’s where I come back to one of my favorite images: being steeped in God like a tea bag in hot water. When a tea bag is placed in the water, it doesn’t fight the process—it releases its flavor, coloring and enriching the liquid around it. In the same way, when I immerse myself in God—through prayer, scripture, gratitude, and simply noticing His presence—He saturates my heart with His love, joy, patience, and peace.

The more I let Him steep into me, the more my ordinary moments begin to taste extraordinary. The laughter of my daughters becomes sweeter. The quiet presence of my family at home feels comforting and grounding. Even the small things—my granddaughter’s tiny hands clasped in mine, the first sip of my morning coffee, the turning of a page in a book I love—become opportunities to savor God’s goodness.

Being steeped in God doesn’t mean that challenges disappear. Bills still need to be paid, deadlines still loom, and sometimes hearts still ache. But when I am fully immersed in Him, I carry a flavor of His presence with me into every interaction, every task, and every moment of life. My joy doesn’t depend on circumstances—it flows from the One who made the day.

Today, I want to be fully steeped in God. To let Him infuse me so that my heart, mind, and spirit are saturated with His love. To recognize the blessings around me, both big and small, and let gratitude and rejoicing become my natural response. Life is not perfect—but this day is God’s, and in Him, it can be beautiful.

Prayer:

“Lord, help me to be steeped in You today. Immerse me in Your presence so that Your love, joy, and peace flow through every part of my life. Teach me to see the blessings in the ordinary moments and to rejoice fully in the day You have made. May my life reflect Your goodness, and may my heart be glad in You. Amen.”

This morning, I took Percy for our usual morning walk. Multiple storms had come through the area two nights ago making the ground soft and wet. As we walked to the park, I thought about storms and how they relate to life. Storms come and they go and while they’re here, they change everything they touch, if only for a moment.

We hung out at the park for a good long while before heading home. I looked up at the sky. To my left, it was partly cloudy. To my right, dark clouds still loomed. But then, directly above me, the sun broke through. It made the raindrops hanging on to the leaves look like diamond drops. All the trees lit up, bright and green. I could almost hear them sighing in the aftermath of a terrific shower.

We started to walk home and I noticed these mushrooms on the side of the walk. Such growth in such circumstances. Beautiful, delicate and perfect in their own way. They grow just as they’re supposed to.

Percy wandered on the grass, also glittered by the sun. Looking up again, I found the clouds to my left dispersing. Bright blue patches became bigger and bigger as the clouds retreated.

I think about my life in these moments. How many storms I’ve weathered. How many times I focused so hard on the dark clouds to my right that I neglected to see the sun shining above me. How many times God has waved His hand, dispelling the dark while giving me blue skies and diamonds on leaves to focus on.

He has never let me down. He has never left me. Like the sun follows the rain, every storm must end and when it does, the earth is left cleaner, brighter and ready for something new.

New growth. Like the mushrooms, something beautiful with raw edges growing in the seam where concrete meets the earth. I’m most alive during these times. Most in tune with God and most grateful. God isn’t absent in the storms but very much present during them. Afterwards, He paints the sky in rainbow colors, symbolizing His promise and its unfailing power.

What God has promised, He is faithful to see it come to pass. (Romans 4:21)

Maybe that’s why storms are my favorite. I love to see the endurance of nature and how it survives. I love the new growth. I love the freshness of it all. I love how it reminds me that I am never too old to be made new for this earth is very old and she is made new every time it rains.

Thank you, God, for each and every storm. Thank you for being with me during each one. Thank you for my rainbow afterwards. Thank you for mushrooms in the morning, for diamond raindrops, glitter in the grass and blue skies that chase away dark clouds.