Does My Cat Know More About Worship Than My Pastor?
by: Kim C. Schweder
Copyright 2008
Joy Factor Productions
All Rights Reserved
Before embarking on a dissertation of worship, I feel compelled to disclose, and perhaps even admit to myself…my name is Kim and I am a cat person! I have been a caretaker of cats off and on since I was a small child. At present, I live with, in addition to my "normal" family, 6 handicapped cats, otherwise referred to as "the girls". Two of my cats, Shadow and Sadie, each have only three legs. Both had been run over by cars. I have another cat, Sarah, who came to me about 20 years ago with a broken tail which created a spinal disorder, which manifested further into a personality disorder requiring regular doses of Prozac (at least according to my neighbor whose German Shepherd had been attacked by Sarah). My fourth cat, Molly, was diagnosed early in life with a heart condition and temporarily adopted by a Veterinarian who treated the problem with a successful open-heart surgery. Maggie, my fifth, was severely abused by her former owner and used as a football. She has one eye, a ruptured vocal chord, an amputated tail and no teeth. Lastly, my sixth cat, (really a step-cat by marriage) Buttercup, was fairly normal until the other five moved into the house. After six months of trying desperately to integrate Buttercup into the herd, the Veterinarian and I, agreed to resort back to a tried and true treatment and place her on, you guessed it, Prozac. With the preceding remarks being said, I fully realize that I may have already lost any hope of credibility with regard to my opinions on the subject of worship, but indeed, this is an important piece of the puzzle.
One warm summer evening as I was driving home, I was replaying in my mind two separate meetings in which I had participated that day. The subject of both meetings centered on the concept of worship and what elements were involved in preparation of a worship service. Clergy of two separate yet mainline protestant denominations attended their respective meetings. Questions were tossed about…"Why do people worship?", "What can be done to encourage others to worship?", and “What elements did we have to provide to motivate others to attend worship”? The committee members along with those clergy present wrestled with these concepts. In both meetings, I had mentally noted an absolute passion to carry out the Great Commission of spreading the good news of Jesus Christ, and in sharing that passion; there was an unmistakable love toward those for whom worship was being planned. They were not unhealthy conversations by any stretch of the imagination. All of the questions asked within the two meetings were good questions, questions of concern, and the answers to which were sought as an act of love. Mainline churches have certainly discussed all of these questions for decades if not for centuries.
I was exhausted after going through a day in which two meetings of this sort had taken place. It was late in the evening and I knew that the "normal" members of my family were either upstairs in bed or otherwise involved in some activity. I walked through the front door as I had done hundreds of times. Opened the front door slowly as I knew I could expect not less than three of "the girls" sitting on the rug in the entry way, patiently waiting for my return home, and more specifically, their dinner. I paused briefly as I usually do and whispered in a soft voice "How are my girls doing?", I bent down and gave each a gentle stroke on the head between the ears as each of them leaned into my warm touch. As I set my papers down and walked through to the kitchen, ten legs and eleven eyes followed me, as they knew their evening meal was about to be set out for their dining pleasure. As I do in my typical routine, I grabbed three plates and three cans of food, placed them on the kitchen counter and began to open the cans and empty them onto the plates. By this time, the numbers had grown to 18 legs and 9 eyes (5 cats in my household). With the numeric growth began a chorus of meows as I carried the plates to the laundry room, changed the water and cleaned out the litter pans.
I walked quietly upstairs, greeted my stepson, and asked him about his day. I then quietly walked into the bedroom where my beautiful and patient (I entered the marriage with the five cats!) wife had dozed off while watching television. I got a warm feeling as I looked at her. I walked over to the bed and held her hand and kissed her on the cheek. She awoke briefly to lovingly hear about the joys and frustrations of my day as she briefly told me about hers. As I prepared to take my shower, I noticed she had once again drifted off to sleep.
By now I know there are many of you who think the cats got a better greeting than my wife and kids. I can assure you that as much as I love my animals, my family is loved and appreciated countless times over. I say this only to avoid losing still further credibility on the subject at hand!
With that said, I took a nice long hot shower that seemed to make all the cares of the long day vanish . I finished brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed. As I looked around the dressing room, two of the cats were on the bathroom counter each on their own side of the sink. One was directly behind me awaiting her nightly scratch on the head, one was sitting on the stool at our dressing table, another was sitting in the doorway between the dressing room and the bedroom, and Buttercup in her modified state of being (Prozac) was watching my every move as she peered out from her well protected spot under the corner of the bed. I turned out the lights and headed toward the bed. As I got comfortable, two joined me in bed. A third climbed onto a couch in the bedroom, number four hobbled onto the bed and curled up beside my wife, the fourth climbed up to a spot on the top of a four story cat tree, a fifth laid down on top of a chair by the desk, and then there was Buttercup, who has not yet had enough Prozac to venture beyond her corner beneath the bed. As I glanced around the room, everyone seemed happy and content. I was not sleepy, but just laid in bed realizing my own contentment with life. I have a fantastic family, a loving and caring wife, a deep faith, a purposeful vocation, enjoyable hobbies, and a generally great life.
As I lay there thinking, I started looking around the room and began to smile. The cats, while seemingly happy, were not sleeping. Indeed, they were all close, feeling secure, purring and two just looking in my direction from other sides of the room. The thoughts of my day started to race through my head interrupted at that point only by a notice of the soft vibration of a cat’s purr or an effort to get closer.
I recall the thoughts flowing through my head that these crippled, broken animals really loved me and understood that I loved and cared for them. As cruelly and unfairly as these pets had been treated in their
lifetimes, they somehow knew and trusted completely that I would never set out to hurt them. Their own routine tells me that in the morning shortly after I crawl out of bed, they will be talked to, they will be fed, their water will be changed, and each of them will be talked to and/or given a moment of tender loving care. As each evening they greet me, they know that before I go to sleep, I will again spend a few moments with each of them, talk to them, touch them and take care of them. I believe with all of my heart that they are capable of great love and unconditional trust. Indeed, on some level, my handicapped cats worship me. There is no requirement that they follow me around the house. They are not forced to spend the entire evening within 10 feet of my tired body. They are not tied down in the entryway of my home to greet me in the evening, and they certainly do not enjoy the sight of my stepping out of the evening shower. They are there because from the multitude of choices they have in a fairly large home, their conscious and perhaps sub-conscious desire is to be in my presence.
It was at that moment that the concept of worship became instantly clear. Worship is not something that we "make" to happen; it is something that we allow to happen, or in "church" words, we facilitate. We can have a hundred meetings on the topic of how to increase worship attendance. We can hire the finest musicians, the most charismatic pastors, the most creative children's ministry people, and the most dynamic youth directors. We can do all of these things and more. Any who are leaders for worship can find talented musicians to play and preachers to preach. The world is thankfully full of talented individuals. The key is found not in strategizing all of the elements necessary to entice or require participation from others, but rather in creating a setting and atmosphere that warmly invites others to open their hearts and minds. THAT is when worship is allowed to take place.
The more difficult part of the equation begins and ends with leadership. In most mainline protestant congregations, the pastor carries the responsibility for worship planning. I would like to think that the claim to this responsibility is by choice, but often I find it is by default. "Worship is the Pastor's job" seems to be a common cry particularly among the mainline protestant churches. If it is to be our goal to provide an open worshipful atmosphere that gives worshippers the freedom to openly offer praise and thanksgiving to God, then it is an absolute imperative that those responsible for leadership in this area, particularly clergy, surround themselves not only with individuals gifted in certain areas, but indeed equally imperative that those individuals themselves possess conscious and sub-conscious passion for worship and a sense of urgency to allow others to share in the same joyous experience. In much the same way as the emotionally and physically broken cats follow from room to room, as worship leaders we too must understand that we are spiritually and physically broken and long to be in the presence of our Lord, trust that we are cared for, know with absolute certainty that we are loved, and filled to overflowing with the desire to worship from a sense of sub-conscious instinct and not one of conscious obligation. This core understanding of worship can, I believe, be the fuse that ignites the explosion, which manifests itself in evangelism, contagious enthusiasm, and uncontainable joy. Further than, as reluctant as I am to even place this on the list of benefits, numerical growth.
Can we ensure that individuals within our leadership groups each possess this uncontrollable passion for worship? I would submit that the answer to the question is yes, but only if the passion for worship starts at the top (the pastor or other spiritual leader), continues as an integral part of the interview process for leadership participants as well as employees, and is placed as a cornerstone for all future planning. It is impossible to plan for worship without being grounded in worship and its components of prayer, praise, study and thanksgiving. The Sunday morning worshipers will never rise higher than those central to planning worship. Hence, worship needs to be a central part of the planning process. In order for worship leaders to be the fuse that ignites the explosion, we need to slow down and spend a few moments within the process to practice in the planning what we are expecting to fulfill in the execution. In other words, we need to worship in order to plan worship.
The most challenging and yet exciting fact still remains. There are countless people right in our own back yard who are hungry to be touched, not understanding that they are loved, feeling that they are not cared for, and experiencing an unexplainable emptiness. This is why a passion for the expression of worship is so vitally important in the leadership of planning. If the fuse is properly set, the contagious passion begins to spread not only within the walls of our individual congregations, but far into our local communities and to reaches beyond our wildest imagination. Even more importantly, as passions begin to ignite, we begin to possess and embrace a strong conviction to move from the generally accepted philosophy of "welcoming a stranger into our midst" to an obvious and unmistakable feeling of relating to others the message of "welcome home". The visitor on a Sunday morning is not "crashing" our family picnic, but is rather a member of our family with an open and unconditional invitation.
Does my cat know more about worship than my Pastor? Not really. Does my cat know more about worship than I do? Probably not; but sometimes it takes 22 legs and 11 eyes to help explain things and place them into a proper perspective that helps me to understand that I am a broken sinner, and I have countless reasons to rise up from my brokenness to worship a savior who once died and now lives that I might have passion for worship in this life, and eternal salvation in the next.
