Come, Let Us Do Lots of Things for God

"Come, let us worship and bow down,
Let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.
For He is our God,
And we are the people of His pasture and the sheep of His hand."

As I read this passage in Psalm 95, the Maranatha tune filters through my ears. It's easy to sing this song as a call to our fellow man (fellow 'people,' I mean. Sorry, non-men) to come fall prostrate before the throne of our Lord and Creator. Naturally, that should be our response to holiness. Being struck speechless and powerless is a regular theme throughout the Bible whenever some mere mortal encounters the divine.

But more than it frees me, this psalm convicts me. It doesn't read at all like I'd like it to--at least judging by the way I live my life with respect to God. If I was going to rewrite it based on what I thought was important, it would go something like:

"Alright folks--let's go. God has done a lot for us. He's created us and given us a world to dominate, and we're not getting any younger here. Here's our charge for the day:

'Come, let us work and work hard,
Let us be super-productive for the Lord our Taskmaster.
For He is our Supervisor,
And we are the stewards of His creation and the workers of His fields.'

After all, we worship God best when we are giving everything to Him in service. Get your butts in gear and let's go!"

Somewhere amidst the logic of that thought process (and there are some legitimate slivers of truth in that way of thinking), I forget a pretty important part: if I'm giving everything to God, I don't have a lot of say in how He chooses to use it. When I say, "God, I'm giving everything in service to you," what I really think I'm saying is, "God, here is a portion of my time that you can use for these designated purposes." It's like giving Him a gift card instead of cash.

It's humbling to ponder the metaphors the psalmist uses here, and even more so when considering the verbs. We are sheep--silly, stupid animals whose only goal is not to die. As long as they don't stray from the master and they do what He tells them, they're serving their purpose. That's it--no glory here.* The verbs accost our sense of purpose as well, creating images of helplessness, submission, not-doing. Worship. Bow down. Kneel. How senseless is that? We're not doing anything.

And here's where dismay can turn into rejoicing. Isn't it awesome to realize that God actually really doesn't need us? That His plans for the world are not dependent on our tireless activity and exhausted efforts? Even if they were, He has 99 other sheep who can do it just as well. Viewing ourselves in light of God's omnipotent supremacy makes us pretty small creatures indeed.

My prayer for myself and you is that realization is not encumbered by pride and a need for critical acclaim--that I won't resent my lack of impact but can instead delight in my Father's power. Doing so elicits the recommended response of worshiping, bowing, and kneeling. If that's what God really wants from me, then who am I do declare that I can better serve Him by serving Him. Such reckless disregard for His wisdom really does make me a silly sheep.

*There's a reason you don't see cartoons made about superhero sheep