Alan and Cathy were friends of mine in High School. They were serious Christians and were very open about their faith. Everyone knew where they stood. I wasn’t a Christian at the time, but I respected them. I became a Christian about a year after I graduated from High School, but I went into the Navy right away and never spoke to them about it. For the first year or so that I was in the Navy, they served as models for me of what a true Christian should look like. I thought about them often.
Alan and Cathy got married shortly after High School, and I saw them twenty years ago, when I was in California for my 20th High School reunion. I asked them how they were doing spiritually, and they replied that they had been in a very bad church situation and had stopped going to church several years before. They thought they were doing pretty well spiritually. Worship was no longer a part of their lives, and they wanted nothing to do with the Church, but they still believed in Jesus and felt a vague sort of attachment to Him. This enabled them to go on feeling good about themselves spiritually, but there was no outward evidence of Christian faith in their lives. They wouldn’t serve, any longer, as models for a new Christian looking for visible evidence of God’s grace.
Their attitude toward corporate worship is a fairly common one in our society, even among those who haven’t been through a negative church experience. I’ve often heard people say that they don’t need to go to church to feel God’s presence, that they are aware of Him when they listen to music, or when they go for a walk in the woods. The people who say this sort of thing are usually not Christians at all, and what they mean is that they feel part of something bigger than themselves when they engage in these activities.
But even among Christians, there’s a tendency today to see corporate worship as an option, as something that’s not really essential to our spiritual health. What really counts is my sense of attachment to Jesus Christ, and as long as I have that I can dispense with worship and still be OK spiritually. Worship is peripheral in our daily lives, but it’s also become peripheral in our spirituality. If something comes up, we don’t feel much hesitation about staying home. Worship isn’t essential to us; we don’t order our lives to make it a priority. When it’s convenient and when there’s nothing else to going on, we attend, but often worship gets crowded out by other things. And if something goes wrong, we very easily end up like Alan and Cathy–we just stop altogether. We may even succeed in persuading ourselves that everything is going well spiritually.
The attitude of the psalmist, in Psalm 84, is completely different than this. This is a pilgrim Psalm, a psalm about making the pilgrimage to Jerusalem to worship at the Temple. He looks forward to being there: “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty. I long, yes I faint with longing to enter the courts of the Lord. With my whole being, body and soul, I will shout joyfully to the living God” (NLT). The people of Israel were expected to travel to Jerusalem three times each year, to worship at the Temple. This pilgrimage to Jerusalem is a good picture of the Christian life. Just as they were on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, we are on pilgrimage to our true home in the New Jerusalem. Our whole life in Christ is a pilgrimage, which is why John Bunyan entitled his allegory of the Christian life The Pilgrim’s Progress. Awhile back we studied the Psalms of Ascent, which are also pilgrim songs. Psalm 122, the third Psalm in the series, focuses especially on worship, and we see there the same sense of anticipation: the psalmist is excited about being in Jerusalem, but the focus is not on Jerusalem in itself, but “the house of the Lord.” He says: “I rejoiced with those who said to me, ‘Let us go to the house of the Lord.’” He’s going to Jerusalem because God’s house is there. He’s going there to worship in God’s presence, in the place where He makes Himself known.
It’s the same with our pilgrimage to the New Jerusalem. We are headed there to worship. This is what we look forward to: “Now the dwelling of God is with [people], and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God” (Revelation 21:3). And here is a glimpse of the worship we’ll experience there: “After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice: ‘Salvation belongs to our God, who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb.’ All the angels were standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures. They fell down on their faces and worshiped God” (Revelation 7:9-11). We make our pilgrimage through this life in anticipation of sharing in the worship around God’s throne. Worship is not peripheral. Worship is central to our lives in Jesus Christ, both now and in eternity. To know God is to worship Him, and the better we know Him, the more worship will become central to our lives.
Our attitude toward worship says something about our relationship with God. Look at verses 1-4: those who truly know and worship God are filled with joyful anticipation at the thought of being in the place where He makes Himself known. Alan and Cathy, as far as I could tell, had no relationship with God. They had an emotional attachment to Jesus, which they weren’t willing to completely let go of, but that emotional attachment had no discernible effect on their daily lives. Prayer, meditation, Bible reading and study, even individual worship, had no place in their lives. These things were not important to them. They had a minimal form of religion still, but it was just an empty shell.
In 1978, my OM team visited a remote village in India where there was only one believer. All the other people in the village were Hindus, so this man had very little opportunity to fellowship and worship with other Christians. He was beside himself to have us there, to have a group of Christians coming to his village to preach the gospel. He participated in our open air meetings and invited us into his home. His attitude was very much like that of the psalmist: “I long, yes I faint with longing to enter the courts of the Lord.” He knew God and was cultivating a growing relationship with Him. And growing out of that relationship, he was filled with longing to worship God together with others who knew Him.
This psalmist lives among other believers, but he doesn’t live in Jerusalem, so he looks enviously at those who spend all their time in the temple: “How happy are those who can live in your house, always singing your praises” (NLT). He’s noticed that even birds are able to build their nests near God’s altar. God’s temple is the place to be. It’s the place where God makes Himself known. The psalmist longs to know God better, so he wants to be there. The words in verse two are very strong ones. His soul yearns, even faints, for the courts of the Lord. The first word points to a very strong desire, a sense of longing. But that’s not enough, so he adds another word. Calvin says the word translated “fainting” is “equivalent to our pining away, when, under the influence of extreme mental emotion, we are in a manner transported out of ourselves” (Calvin’s Commentaries, vol. 5, p. 354). He’s gripped with an overwhelming desire to be in God’s presence. He can’t get away from it. Have you ever been so worried about something that it just hangs over you like a cloud, no matter what you’re doing? You try to occupy yourself with something else, but the awareness of the problem is always there in the background. You can’t get away from it. That’s how the psalmist feels about worshiping in Jerusalem. He’s gripped with an overwhelming desire to be in God’s presence, worshiping Him.
We can also see, in this psalm, that those who truly know and worship God are not discouraged from worship by the obstacles and hindrances they encounter along the way. Look at verses 5-7. The psalmist is on pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He’s had to lay aside his normal routine. He’s taken considerable trouble to prepare for the trip. And the journey itself is not an easy one. There were risks from bandits, who saw the pilgrims as an easy target. And, apart from that risk, the trip meant enduring heat and dust and discomfort, when they might have been sitting at home taking a real vacation. After all, couldn’t they worship God just as well at home? We don’t know exactly where the “Valley of Baca” was. It may have been named for the balsam tree, which is what “Baca” seems to mean (see William L. Holladay, The Psalms Through Three Thousand Years, p. 31). But the significance of the place is clear enough, even if we can’t locate it on a map. It was a dry, arid place that pilgrims had to pass through on the way to Jerusalem. It was the kind of place that makes travelers want to turn around and go home. Traveling to Jerusalem three times each year was a great inconvenience. It interrupted the flow of their lives and prevented them from doing other things they wanted to do. And the trip itself was not an easy one. They had to travel through some pretty unpleasant, undesirable places, to get there.
But notice what the psalmist says about this difficult part of the trip: “As they pass through the Valley of Baca, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength till each appears before God in Zion.” Is he saying that God takes away the difficulty? No. He’s saying that God refreshes them along the way and strengthens them until they stand in His presence. They’ve “set their hearts on pilgrimage.” They’re determined to keep going. They’re not going to allow anything to discourage them from following through. And, as they persevere along the way, God refreshes and strengthens them.
One of my favorite books, of the past several years, is The Hawk and the Dove by Penelope Wilcock. It’s a series of short stories set in a monastery in England in the 14th century. The abbot, the leader of the monastery, is named Peregrine. He’s from an aristocratic family, and is a very proud man. Shortly after he takes over leadership of the monastery, he is severely beaten by enemies of his father and spends the rest of his life crippled as a result of his injuries. As he learns to accept his limitations he grows more humble and godly, more like Jesus Christ. But daily life for him is difficult and painful, and he often needs to accept practical help from those who are under his leadership.
In one of the stories, he learns that he has a daughter, who was conceived before he became a monk. Here’s a description of one of her visits: “She stayed with them for a week, and she would sit in the gardens outside the infirmary, her baby on her knee, talking to Uncle Edward, and the old brothers who sat out in the sun with him, and to Peregrine when he could snatch the time. It was one of those brief spells of complete happiness that come once in a rare while, an unlooked-for gift of God, when the forces of darkness, of sorrow and temptation seem miraculously held back, a breathing space in the battle” (pp. 156-57). Peregrine’s life is difficult and painful, and often lonely. But God gives him this “unlooked-for gift,” to encourage him along the way. While Peregrine is holding his grandson, he looks down at him and says: “’Thus was Jesus... and thus all the little ones whom Herod butchered. Oh, God protect you in this world, dear one. God keep you safe from harm.’ Melissa watched the tiny, pink hand grip round Peregrine’s scarred, twisted fingers, and sadness welled up in her for sorrow to come, for the inevitable harshness and pain. ‘You can’t ask that, Father, and you know it, of all people,’ she said gently. ‘But let him travel through life with his hand gripping Jesus’ scarred hand as tight as it now grips yours, and the storms will not vanquish him’” (pp. 157-58). That’s it. God doesn’t take away the difficulty. But He walks with us along the way, and in His grace and mercy He gives us times like Peregrine experienced: “those brief spells of complete happiness that come once in a rare while, an unlooked-for gift of God, when the forces of darkness, of sorrow and temptation seem miraculously held back, a breathing space in the battle.” Listen to verses 5-7 in the New Living Translation: “Happy are those who are strong in the Lord, who set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. When they walk through the Valley of Weeping, it will become a place of refreshing springs, where pools of blessing collect after the rains! They will continue to grow stronger, and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.”
Those who truly know and worship God long to be in the place where He makes Himself known, so they set their minds on pilgrimage. They make worship a priority, something that they’re going to do, even if it means leaving something else undone. They’re willing to keep going through difficulties, because they want to be in God’s presence. They don’t baby themselves. They recognize that worshiping and serving God in this fallen world involves much self-denial, laying aside our own plans and comfort and submitting to His lordship. But then, as they begin denying themselves and putting Him first, they find, in experience, that being in His presence and will is the best place to be.
When I joined OM in 1977, I was expecting to suffer for the Lord. I had read biographies of Christians who’d learned to know God by enduring suffering, and OM had a reputation for strict discipline and self-denial. OM sounded like the ideal place to go and endure hardship. I expected to suffer, especially, in the area of food. The conference in Belgium was pretty-much what I expected: the food was so bad that I wasn’t tempted to eat too much of it. But then, when I got to Italy, I was disappointed. The food was good, and we had plenty of it. When we were out doing evangelism in the morning, I’d find myself looking forward to lunch, knowing that we were going to have some kind of pasta. It wasn’t at all what I expected. But once I accepted the idea that it was OK to eat well, I was pleasantly surprised by the ways the Lord provided for us. The psalmist also finds himself pleasantly surprised. He’s set out on a difficult pilgrimage, but he exclaims, in verse 10-12: “A single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else! I would rather be a gatekeeper in the house of my God than live the good life in the homes of the wicked. For the Lord God is our light and protector. He gives us grace and glory. No good thing does he withhold from those who do what is right. O Lord Almighty, happy are those who trust in you” (NLT). We set out laying aside our own desires, being willing to endure difficulties for the Lord. And we do face difficulties and trials. But we find that suffering in God’s presence is better, by far, than living it up apart from Him. And often He intervenes and provides for us in unexpected ways.
Listen to these words by Jonathan Edwards: “God is the highest good of the reasonable creature; and the enjoyment of him is the only happiness with which our souls can be satisfied,‑‑To go to heaven, fully to enjoy God, is infinitely better than the most pleasant accommodations here. Fathers and mothers, husbands, wives, or children, or the company of earthly friends, are but shadows; but the enjoyment of God is the substance. These are but scattered beams; but God is the sun. These are but streams; but God is the fountain. These are but drops; but God is the ocean‑‑Therefore it becomes us to spend this life only as a journey towards heaven...; to which we should subordinate all other concerns of life”(Works, vol.2, p. 244). Those times of refreshment, those “brief spells of complete happiness,” that God gives us along the way are only a foretaste of what is to come when we see Him face to face. He is the source of all good, and one day we are going to worship Him face to face. And even during this life, He cares for all our needs. “No good thing does the Lord withhold from those who do what is right.” No wonder the psalmist cries out at the end: “O Lord Almighty, happy are those who trust in you.”
Jim Elliott, the missionary who was killed by Auca Indians in Ecuador in 1955, said “he is no fool who gives up what he cannot keep in order to gain what he cannot lose.” When we set out on pilgrimage for the New Jerusalem, we’re giving up something that we cannot keep anyway. Denying ourselves, in obedience to the Lord Jesus Christ who laid down His life for our sake, is really the only reasonable thing to do. To do otherwise is sheer foolishness. If we continue grasping after the things we want, we’ll end up losing them anyway. Jesus said something very similar: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Matthew 16:24-26).
Our attitude toward worship says something about our relationship with God. If we have a casual attitude toward worship, something is wrong in our relationship with God. We’re putting our own priorities first, grasping after what we want. We’re being foolish. God calls us to gather together as His people, and when we neglect corporate worship we’re resisting His will. We’re being disobedient. The solution is to repent and confess our sin, then lay aside our own plans and determine that we won’t allow ourselves to miss worship unless we simply can’t help it. That’s the first step, learning the discipline of going to church whether we feel like it or not. That’s part of what it means to be on pilgrimage to the New Jerusalem.
This psalm is full of a sense of wonder and glory at the beauty and majesty of God. Being in His presence is like being nowhere else. “One day spent in your house, this beautiful place of worship, beats thousands spent on Greek island beaches. I’d rather scrub floors in the house of my God than be honored as a guest in the palace of sin” (The Message). Remember this quote from St. Augustine that I read at the beginning of this series: “You awake us to delight in Your praise; for You made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You” (The Confessions of St. Augustine, a modern English version by Hal M. Helms, p. 7). Worshiping God fulfills the deepest desire of our hearts. It’s what we were made for. But sin has clouded our minds and twisted our priorities. So we need to begin with self-denial. We set our hearts on pilgrimage, like the psalmist. And, having done that, we find that we don’t want to be anywhere else: “I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.” May God be stirring our hearts and making us into people whose souls yearn, even faint, for the courts of the Lord. May He be transforming us into people who live lives of worship, in anticipation of that great day when we will worship Him face to face.
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