I Did Not Raise My Hands

I have always loved music, and music was a big part of my home when I was growing up in Northern Platte County.  My dad played the piano, the saw and the tenor sax.  My mom played the piano and sang.  Oh, and my dad sang also, and as I became proficient on the piano I often accompanied him.  It wasn’t unusual for mom and dad to provide special music for our church, and my dad often led the singing in our little North American Baptist Church.

So yes, I love music and I love the worship time in our church, Calvary Memorial.  Calvary is an independent Bible teaching church that we have belonged to for over 25 years, ever since we came to Gering.

In the beginning we had traditional worship with hymnals and an organ.  Gradually a guitar was added here and there, then a Clavinova, and after a long time, drums.  We have a fantastic group of people who lead us in singing modern songs that you hear on Christian radio.  I love it!

But here comes my problem.  Many times the songs we sing are very moving and inspiring.  People raise their hands in praise and adoration.  However my hands hang heavy at my sides, weighed down by Baptist decorum.  I want to raise my hands, but I can’t!  That German-Baptist-turned-NAB seriousness keeps me standing there praising God in my heart, but stiff and awkward on the outside. We were taught very specific standard of behavior in the church auditorium, and it did not include unnecessary movement in the sanctuary!  We even had a pastors wife who made us kneel down and ask for forgiveness for running in the sanctuary while our parents cleaned up after a potluck.

I am determined that this inhibition whall not rule me forever.  One of these days my hands will be bound to just lift on their own, raising up in praise and the love of our wonderful Father in heaven that grows in my heart as we worship.

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