Hooked on Saturday Nights

I’m going again tonight. I can’t stay away very long; I’m hooked. There won’t be many others there—just the few who are likewise hooked. They—we—aren’t attracted by the surroundings; they’re rather ordinary and don’t change at all from week to week. It’s not the music because it’s not extraordinary or perfect. It’s a background for what’s really going on. It’s certainly not the sparkling conversation because we don’t talk with one another very much at all.

            By all human standards it’s a rather a flop as an event. Did I mention there’s nothing to eat or drink? You, see, it’s truly a meager situation from an earthly standpoint. But not from a heavenly one.

            What is it that we expect or hope for from God? Think about it for a minute. Perhaps you’re where I am. You want God to show up. You want him to do something for you, for someone you care about, or for the crazy world we live in. Have you been disappointed or even disillusioned when you thought God didn’t show up, didn’t change anything, and didn’t even seem to hear you?

            That’s the rub, isn’t it? When any of those things happen, we say or may think: “Who needs God, at least one like that?” We walk up to a vending machine, drop in the coins, and we expect those chips to slide right down into our impatient hands. So God is good, great, and loving and just waiting for our wish list. Here’s the change, via a prayer, and then I get my “chips,” right? I doubt there’s a person alive who hasn’t thought of God that way.

            Saturday night prayer isn’t like that. It’s not vending machine prayer. It’s what prayer has always been meant to be: meeting with God. Thirty years ago—oh, honestly five years ago—I wouldn’t have been ready to sit and tune my heart like this to God. Saturday night prayer meeting sounds dull and a huge waste of a chunk of weekend that travels at light speed all by itself. So I really don’t even like to call it prayer meeting, which almost makes me cringe (and reminds me of meetings I attended and after which I felt much worse than I had before I came).

            These evenings are more like the prelude, the warm-up before a concert. Have you ever been to the symphony? The members warm up individually, then the first violin calls the orchestra to tune to the pure note the violinist is playing. That’s what Saturday prayer is like—we tune our hearts and minds to the note God wants to play across our lives and through his church.

            We sit quietly, slowing down our racing minds. We drink in the notes of worship music and sing, whisper, or hum along. Gradually, I realize that I’m changing as a result of tuning my heart to God because of these Saturday “symphonies.” God is showing up. Now what I’m thinking is that he’s always there, I just have a hard time realizing it because I’m too busy dropping my “coins” in the machine.

            How am I changing? There’s a deeper peace pervading my life, a confidence that God is working, whether I see anything or not. Odd?  Not at all. The more I focus on the character of God, the more I realize that it is his very nature to intervene and transform lives. So I live with greater expectation. The places where I hope and pray for change may not be visibly transforming. But my itchy impatience diminishes while my willingness to serve and work where God wants me to, regardless of my preferences and prayer focus, is becoming easier. And best of all I like spending time with God—he’ s spectacular!

            That’s why I keep going back for more—more of God. More of his deeply satisfying presence! (And if you’re interested, you’re welcome, too.)