Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

I can be pretty critical of the current praise and worship movement as it’s progressed/digressed over the years, but this is not meant as some snarky creed. 

This is just meant to be an observation.

While in our sanctuary yesterday morning, we stood with the crowd and began singing along to the words projected onto the screen behind the band and stage. I say “we,” but must confess it took me a little while to finally stand up. I’m not a fan of the modern worship experience, as it’s often so emotionally moving, but spiritually shallow.

Let me also clarify, I think the music is great! Usually a combination of U2 meets Radiohead, and as someone who saw U2 live about fifteen years ago, I can attest to their powerful concert performance. You have the driving bass, powerful percussion, and swelling guitars, all supporting the emotive vocals with a heartfelt cry to the crowd. And, while I love a good live performance, I’m not into being “moved” in worship at church; at least not because the music is stellar; I want to be fed by what I’m hearing said. Often, my thoughts on this are far more snarky and fervent, but I’m not writing this with that mentality.

Okay, back to the topic.

Yesterday we were singing a song I was slightly familiar with, and my kids were even more so (I guess it’s on the radio often?). Anyway, I was reading along the lit screen and started really feeling the music and really thinking about the words.

Spirit lead me where my trust is without bordersLet me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

Yeah, I’m sure a few of you reading this will recognize the song just from the chorus. It’s called Oceans (Where Feet May Fail), and I think it was originally recorded by Hillsong United. It is a beautiful song, so full of passion, and musically very powerful. I found myself singing along and feeling the energy crescendo. The words also reflect my heart’s cry, and I assume many other’s.

But this is where it started to bug me… got into my craw, as it was.

I watched as a large group of people congregated and called out to the Lord.

“Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders” was the first thing to truly hit me. I mean, it’s a very honest and compassionate call to God. ‘Lead me, Lord!’ I’ve said it numerous times in my life. ‘I am meant for so much more than this! What’s wrong with you, God?!?’ (Okay, that last line was meant to be funny, but…)

We were a large group of Believers, family, singing in unison to God. We were a large group of people singing because we could, because we wanted to, because it felt right. We stood in a large room with lights and climate control; it smelled nice, too. People had their hands raised and others were swaying. The woman (girl? Hard to tell from where I stood) also had her hand raised, eyes closed, and was belting out some of the best vocals I’ve heard in a while. It was beautiful.

But… but I knew.

When the song ended, when the sermon was done, when we all were heading out to our cars to go home to lunch/dinner, reality would slowly seep into our impassioned cries. Where does the Spirit lead us? We are inevitably led to life as we know it. We are led to our “normal,” and life goes on. We stop at McDonald’s to get lunch, we yell at the kids to stop yelling at each other, we begin dreading the coming Monday.

I was struck that morning with the realization we float through our lives. No matter what we do, no matter where we live, life is what it is and we are content to stay there. The song says we want more!!! WE WANT MORE!!! But when MORE looks and smells like trash left in the sun, and feels like a sandwich that’s gotten soggy in the fridge, and looks like the same thing you saw a few hours earlier, before you entered the church building… well, MORE doesn’t seem worth it, does it?

I’m going to leave this little thought for a minute; don’t worry, it’s still connected, but I think it’s an apt connection.

When I first truly accepted God had called my wife and I to travel to one of the poorest countries to share His Gospel, I was excited. I was more than excited; there was an intensity in my body I couldn’t describe without the help of Ritalin.

I was going to see a new world!

I was going to meet new people!

I was going to try food that sounded disgusting!

I was going to be a “real missionary!”

Time progressed and I went to weekly meetings. We talked about what to expect, the local customs, the local dialects, as well as some of the superstitions and some creepy stories about human sacrifice and spirits walking on the ocean. The night before we went to the airport, I was literally terrified. My poor wife had to console me and tell me I would be fine; she even blocked her desire to kick me in the butt and tell me to “suck it up, buttercup...”

The flight was long and gave me ample time to think about the decision I had made; also gave me quite a bit of time to second-guess what the heck I was doing. 

My first night in the small village we were staying at I was exhausted and went to bed earlier than most in my party. I recall, vividly, waking to the sound of drums in the distance.

The first words out of my mouth were “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders, Let me walk upon the waters, wherever You would call me…”

No.

My first words were “oh, crap.” Not in my regular baritone voice, but in the squeaky rasp I thought I’d left behind me when I was sixteen. And, this was followed by “Lord, please let it be quick.”

When we sing a song like Oceans, it’s moving and powerful, often. It’s the type of song you sing with the windows down, driving through a cool autumn day.

And I like the words and the music to this song.

My only real problem is, as honest and reflective a song as this is, it pales when we are faced with the dry heat of the desert, or confronted by a professor whose knowledge (or lack of knowledge, as the case often is) puts us in a position of trying to defend our faith in the unseen. The music isn’t there to carry us when the cry of an inconsolable two year-old vibrates the center of your brain, and you realize the Gospel to her isn’t in words but in your actions and reactions to her irrational noise.

When I heard those drums, and thought I was going to be at the tribe’s next pagan feast – as the delicacy, I assume – I wasn’t interested in being “without borders.” I wanted safety! I wanted air conditioning! I wanted to be surrounded by a couple hundred… THOUSAND… like-minded Believers!

When we sing this song, and songs like it, I am hopeful we understand it’s merely the beautification of the lion’s teeth. It is stunning, and encouraging, and uplifting, because we need all of these things when we leave the sanctuary and face the reality wanting to bite us.