The Many Names of Henry Calvin

That's right: TWO posts tonight, friends. One for each reader...

For what it's worth as random information, Henry (a.k.a., Best. Baby. Ever.) goes by many names in our household. Here are some favorites (you'll notice a dominant theme):

1) Lord Chubbington
2) Count Chubbula (or simply, "the Count")
3) Baron von Chubbinstein (or, "the Baron")
4) The Boy (usage: "The Boy is stirring..." (spoken in horror at 3a.m.))
5) The Jackaroo (or 'Roo for short)
6) Chubber
7) Chubby McGee (or McArnackle)

Overprotective parents needn't worry about our son developing an identity crisis. We call him by his proper name plenty, and all of the above are, of course, spoken with all the love and affection we can muster. After all, he is indeed the Best. Baby. Ever.

P.S.: I had no idea what a jackaroo was until Wikipedia, ever the most reliable source of information in the world, gave this definition: "Jackaroo (or Jackeroo) - a young man gaining practical experience on a sheep or cattle property, to acquire the practical skills needed to become a manager of a property or station." Clearly we do not intend this meaning for Henry, but something sounds good about calling him a jackaroo all the same.

Weorthscipe (wurth'-ship)

Reader's warning: unorganized, poorly thought-out, late-night ponderings commence below:
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In an earlier post I had agreed with my friend Danny that one teaching from the Bible with which I struggle is that of "caring for the poor" in my present (rich, Western) context. What does that look like for a 21st century American?

While I do indeed struggle with this, I've recently been stewing much more on another struggle of mine: worship. I struggle profoundly (and I mean profoundly) with worship. Lo! My etymologically pretentious title is revealed! Marvel, all you who witness my mastery of dictionary usage (i.e., Merriam-Webster's website).

Seriously, though, worship has been especially difficult for me lately, giving occasion for the following, somewhat random questions and musings that scratch this surface:

Emotional experience = worship ???
Put another way: Does true worship of God evoke an emotional experience for the worshipper? Must I feel an emotional connection, something in my heart, when I worship God?

I believe that the answer is an impractical "yes...with a 'but.'" First order, we must agree that an uplifting, emotional experience isn't ipso facto an encounter with God. However, shouldn't true worship be emotional? If one is to recognize (even in part) the greatness and majesty of God, to consider who He is, and respond in praise, surely one must experience some sort of emotion in concert with this praise.

In my experience, I very rarely get there at a church service. If a favorite hymn is sung, my odds are better, but in general, it is a very stale, "will this be over soon?" experience. My odds of feeling an emotional upwelling of praise to God seem to occur more frequently with "head" experiences: reading systematic theologies, apologetics, biblical commentaries, and other such nerd-ery.

We're all made differently, and for sure in God's kingdom there is great diversity. As such, I feel on the one hand that all is well and good. Still, I can't help but feel that I'm missing something.

"I'm not an emotional person"
I've heard this said before, and I've even said it myself. But is this really true? Are there any people who are rightly un-emotional? In our fallen world, perhaps. But is this God's intention for us? I think the real issues at stake are extroversion and introversion. For an introvert like myself, my emotions tend to stay inside, repressed or stifled at worst, moderated or monitored at best. Any fault here? Perhaps the extrovert displays their emotions during worship and the introvert does not. Still, the introvert should feel something, yes? Hence my feeling that I'm missing something.

Can I force an emotion?
Sounds scary, but can't I? I firmly believe that feelings can follow actions. I may not feel something, but if I do it anyway, I've much better chances of my feelings falling to to line with my actions than if I sit it out. Do I, then, go through the motions of worship at church, trying desperately to worship? Man alive! That sounds scary, but it sounds better than just checking out, no?

I can worship elsewhere, in my own way
This is another scary thought. Okay, so I don't connect at church. I can connect at other times in the week, right? Yes, but we're just a stone's throw away from "why go to church at all?" here, aren't we? I think the Bible is clear about the fact that God delights in corporate worship. Individual worship, while still blessing God's heart, cannot be all there is. The Bible does not understand and individualistic Christianity, and amidst the intense privatization of all things religious in America, we should certainly fight tooth-and-nail any Lone Ranger tendencies within and without.

Whose fault is it?
Mine for being such an over-analytical, cynical, introverted sinner? Or the church's, for doing a lousy job at structuring its service? I'm guessing maybe a 90-10 split there. Of course the church could do better, but my gut tells me that I'm the bigger issue.

Is God honored?
I remember once telling my father (who, go figure, struggles as I do with worship) that God is honored by us giving worship the old college try, even if we don't "feel it." In fact, I argued God is honored even more when we don't want to do something. If it's hard for us, our sacrifice to do what we know is right carries more weight. If I love to worship, if it's fun, uplifting and easy for me, God is honored, but maybe not as much as by one who struggles to get there.

I'm not sure I agree with myself on that one. I think God receives more glory by the one so transformed by Him that s/he revels in giving Him glory in corporate worship.

Does this post need to be longer, and fraught with more half-baked thoughts that I'm ashamed to attribute to myself? Perhaps, but my son will soon wake for a drink (Mom is at the Red Sox game tonight!), and I should ready the bottle.