The clock does not stop during these days leading up to Easter.

We still must answer to responsibilities every day . . . go to work, feed the children, take out the trash, show up at appointments, interact with peers, bosses, spouses, neighbors, grocery cashiers, students, teachers, and attend to a lot of generalized whatnot (I had an aunt who used that word regularly and I’ve pledged to try and plug it in here and there).

But Easter . . .

. . . is indeed coming.

How can we not be distracted by the stirring of deep worship? The feeling of overwhelming gratitude for undeserved grace? Darkness being overcome by Light?

Of course I do not and should not speak for you. I can only tell you why my own two hands are in the air.

I had a friend years ago, a good and precious friend, who spoke at a women’s retreat at our local church for her very first time. She was comfortable in front of people having been in the professional world for many years, but this was a “first” since answering her call to ministry. I’m pretty sure I had assured her beforehand that none of us in the audience would cook her and eat her, but easy for me to say . . . I wasn’t the one getting up in front with a microphone.

She rocked it. And that’s an understatement.

Sadly, I am lousy at remembering sermons or presentations or even conversations verbatim unless I take notes, and on this day I was so thoroughly mesmerized by what she had to say that I wrote nary a word. So, you’re stuck with what I have to offer as my takeaway courtesy of my leaky brain. It’s summed up in two words:

both hands

She was speaking to our habits and hangups in church. (Dear Friend Who Spoke at Retreat: if you’re reading this and I’m getting it wrong, please understand my intentions are good and are honest attempts at getting from Point A to Point B without becoming bogged in a quagmire . . . creative license if you might.)

If you’re familiar with church and sitting in a congregation week in and week out, or living your life within a mix of folk who believe basically as you do and try in their own way to live like it, you’ll be nodding your head when I say, “We’ve all got our ways of doing church.”

Sounds simple enough

Ha

And you may be relieved that I’m not going to list all the “ways” of doing church. You’ve already heard most of the funny stuff that’s available on reels and memes about how we dress/don’t dress/used to dress/didn’t dress, or how our kids survived the 80s and 90s with us for parents (love, love, love, that topic — hey, we were doing our best, ok?), or (drum roll, please) church music. Oy. Heaven help us. All the years Bob was in full time music ministry I threatened to get a sign for above his office: WAR DEPARTMENT. I get it though. Truly I do. But that’s not for today. Today we’re talking about our common goal in the Christian church.

Worship

Worshiping the Resurrected Christ

Jesus

It’s at Easter time that we truly zero in on what brings us together through all of our quirks, differences, habits and hangups.

My friend who spoke to us that day many years ago, wanted to communicate freedom in worship. She asked the group about their habits or preferences, i.e. what they felt comfortable with during worship services. A predictable few shared their thoughts. Most were silent.

We then were asked to think not only about ourselves but picture in our minds those we associated with over the years during worship services and how we felt about how they came across in worship. Now people started to talk. The women were purposefully respectful when they remembered aloud about old uncles or grandparents who had certain phrases they’d shout out during sermons. I myself knew a southern gentleman who’d come out with a thunderous, “Wellll, Glory!” when a sermon point hit him just right . . . made you jump out of your skin if you weren’t braced for it. Loved him deeply.

A few ladies in our retreat group expressed embarrassment at being near folks during a church service when the dears would “get blessed” (there’s a phrase we don’t throw around a lot in 2025.) Let me tell you, I’ve seen an aisle runner or two in my day and once you get over the surprise of it, it kind of makes sense . . . what are you going to do with yourself when you’re about to bust with gratitude and worship? Run, of course.

I think there must be something about crossing the high elevation of the Rocky Mountains that irons it out of you though . . . I’ve never seen a runner out west.

At any rate, the conversation shifted to what we do with our hands during worship services, specifically during music. Maybe you’ve seen all the jokes you care to (I know I have) about this topic. It is a highly personal subject for many. A lot depends on your personality. But at this retreat where most of us had become at least somewhat acquainted over the two days and all of us were deeply moved by what our speaker had been saying to us, we practiced raising both hands in the air. Now, please do not start thinking that I think that this is THE WAY. Not at all. The point was to practice being free to be comfortable in a worship setting if you felt led to praise in this way. We didn’t practice running (you were about to ask, weren’t you?). It wasn’t the point to “try out” ways of worshiping. The point was to feel free if you wanted to. Not constrained by whom you were sitting next to. Not caring what Glowering Gentleman Down the Row might think. Not needing to fall into line as to “this is what my family has always done/not done.” Just freedom.

For me, that day, I learned both hands. And it has deepened my heartfelt participation in worship, although I could do without everyone behind me seeing my Apple watch light up on my left wrist . . .

If you knew my father, you know he was not demonstrative in worship. Neither was my mom. And if you know me, you know that’s a hard door to push through. But here we are. Both hands in the air. Well, not full time. That would be weird.

So, friends, as we approach the most holy of days on our Christian calendar, would you dig deep? Find who you are in worship? God doesn’t care if you stand there like a palace guard or if you’re on your third lap around the sanctuary; just find your worship freedom. If you’re like me, make sure you have a Kleenex or two or three in various locations. This resurrection business is mighty moving. And the crux of it is, dear one, is that it’s not just for me.

It’s for you.

Jesus died on the Cross. A deeply cruel death. He was dead and buried. And He rose again. He did this for you. And me. We celebrate this resurrection on Easter.

Below you will find a link to our local church where you can pop in on Easter Sunday service at 10:30 MDT. We are Nampa, Idaho First Church of the Nazarene. Apparently my beloved will be doing some music leading . . . I never know nowadays. I am also throwing in several YouTube videos of some of my favorite Easter worship music. Because I can. =)

And remember:

He is not here; He has risen, just as He said.

Matthew 28:6a

Much love,

MM

https://www.youtube.com/@nampafirst

What’s Easter without a little Keith Green? Hmm?

Worship with all your heart, Dear Ones. And with both hands.

Happy Easter!