I hate, I despise your feasts, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings, I will not accept them; and the peace offerings of your fattened animals, I will not look upon them. Take away from me the noise of your songs; to the melody of your harps I will not listen. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Amos 5:21–24
Holy Father, these are some very strong words about what it means to worship you and what you’re really looking for in your worship. But what should matter more to us than to give you the worship of which you are singularly worthy and in which you greatly delight?
However you never get “in our face” except to drive us to more of your grace. Such is the beauty of the relationship you’ve established with us in Jesus. Such is the purpose of the “life-giving correction” that comes to us in your Word (Prov. 15:31 NIV).
Meditating on this Scripture leads to these conclusions, convictions, and petitions. First and foremost, it’s quite possible for us to thoroughly enjoy a service of worship—the liturgy, the Lord’s Supper, the music—and yet the same service may actually grieve you. Indeed, music to us may be noise to you. Conversely, there are probably services we exit bored, critical, and “uninspired,” and yet in these services you find great delight and pleasure. Forgive us when we make our experience the measure of the acceptability of your worship. Indeed, symphony to us may be cacophony to you.
Gracious Father, it’s also obvious that “justice rolling like a river” and “righteousness flowing like a never-failing stream” are “music in your ears”—the kind of Psalm singing you really enjoy; a hymnody for which you long; a liturgy of life, and not just one of lip service.
Forgive us when the new song of the gospel does not lead us to a new life of caring for others. Forgive us when the satisfaction of being in your presence does not lead us to the sacrifice of serving in the community. Forgive us when we act like the priest or the Levite in the parable of the Good Samaritan—men who enjoyed your real presence in the Temple and then proceeded to ignore real need right under their noses (Luke 10:25–37).
Lord Jesus, you were the Good Samaritan to us, and you still are. But you didn’t just find us beaten and broken alongside the road; you found us running as fast as we could from you; worshipping anything and everything but you. We only know and worship God only because you first cared for us, served us, loved us by giving your life for us. Make us humble, grateful, joyful worship servants. We pray to your glory and by your grace. Amen.