Swelling Worship



Oh, magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together!

(Psalm 34:3)



Worship can flow from a deep well.


When it does, it cannot be contained. It swells, to release torrents of awe, gratitude, and joy.


It can even become a quiet spectacle.


At a recent Sunday service, a flood of worship-filled tears flowed like a rushing river.


Onlookers may have guessed I was stricken with either guilt, or grief, or shame. (Who knows what my cousin initially thought, as she scooched in close with a loving embrace.)


But it was pure and profound worship.


Many tears have been spilled in the pews. Tears of sorrow, pain, regret, longing . . . and rejoicing. But these were tears of worship. Worship, because of the felt presence of God. There are seasons when tears of lament are shed—because God seems distant. But the truth of the matter is, God is ever and always present. Somehow, His presence is sensed more in some seasons than others. What grace that it is ever sensed at all!


The events preceding this God-induced worship are note-worthy—for He is worthy of all praise. It began with a schedule packed with a lot of pending projects. Followed by a fractured ankle. I got casted on a Friday. I moved the very next day—on Saturday and again on Monday. Then flew to Michigan the same week to speak at a women’s event.


I climbed those stairs at Bell Creek Community Church purely by the Lord’s strength; took my place on that stage; and delivered, by almighty and abundant grace, two messages.


Only God’s faithfulness made any of that possible!







So, come Sunday morning, the wells of worship were primed.


Up to that point, I had convinced myself that the gratitude within could not be adequately expressed. But, when the Spirit moves, He turns the impossible into actuality.


Those first few notes of the opening song were all it took to open the floodgates. Because, over the course of the previous week, worship kept swelling with fresh mercies each new day. It just kept building . . . and building. And when worship swells, it inevitably spills.


Now, this side of things, I don’t know what could have been. But I can say this: If I had not experienced the grace of God in providing the strength and stamina I needed to go through that move with a broken ankle, I don’t know that I would have had the same confident faith to get on that plane and attempt that event with a broken limb. I knew wholeheartedly that I could completely trust Him. And I did.


I also know that if I had done the event without a broken ankle, I would not have fully realized and appreciated the grace of God in such weakness. As it was, I was completely dependent upon Him. (Of course, we always are, regardless of the state of our health.) But, because of my weakness, feeling weary and in pain, I had a deeper gratitude for God’s evident grace.


The grace of God is no insignificant thing. Ever. We can’t live without it.


And the grace of God is a glorious thing. So, to experience that grace in very tangible ways is to experience an infinitesimal fraction of God’s infinite glory.


Therefore, glory is due His magnificent name!


Now, this all may seem like a minor thing. Just some ole gal, hobbling around on one leg trying to move and serve. It could be viewed as a rather ordinary occurrence. But, because it’s grace, it’s actually great. Because the great grace of God is mighty to meet our needs—whatever they are.


Any and every circumstance that requires grace is awe worthy.


The knowledge that God’s grace is sufficient for all things informs faith in meaningful ways. And when that grace is personally and profoundly experienced in moments of felt need, it swells and brews up a torrent of worship.


Let it flow—like the fount from whence it comes!


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