Here in the second week of May, I find myself finally starting to get some relief from a back injury I experienced just before Easter. You’d think I had been trying to deadlift a Volkswagen—but no, I was simply moving some chairs and tables when I felt a lightning bolt zip through my lower back. Plenty of my evil friends have pointed out that this is just part of getting older. That’s true. You don’t have to tell me—I’m a 52-year-old with a 9-year-old daughter. One of my highest goals in life is not to be mistaken for her grandfather at her high school graduation.
Nevertheless, I’m grateful to have gotten a good night’s sleep last night and to be able to put my shoes on a little quicker this morning. It is funny how back pain is a prolific talking point. I’ve had conversations with so many fellow back-pain lamenters. And it’s nearly always the same silly story—the simplest little movements can have such a huge impact.
For a few moments in this blog, I want to do something similar to what my physical therapist did yesterday: push hard on a spot and see if it helps. The results may be different from one person to the next as you read this—maybe no big deal, maybe some soreness or tightness, maybe even a huge relief. But physical therapy metaphors aside, this is what I prayerfully felt the Lord leading me to explore this week. So hang with me for a moment through the setup...
We are embodied creatures. That just means we are created by God with physical bodies. It’s a fundamental aspect of being human—and always will be. As the closing line of the Apostles’ Creed states, we believe in “the resurrection of the body and life everlasting.” We will always have a body, though certainly different in the new heavens and earth—and for sure, we won’t wrestle with back pain.
There’s sometimes a subtle temptation to slip into a reductive view of the body. We become modern-day Gnostics if we start to think “spiritual is good, physical is bad.” But that is not Christianity. And as a sidenote, it’s certainly not helpful in a world tragically confused and wrestling with the divine gift and value of our physical bodies.
In his book The Spirit of the Disciplines, Dallas Willard talks about how the body is central to spiritual formation because it is the primary place where the spiritual life takes place. He writes, “the body is not inherently evil or opposed to God. It is the primary instrument through which we interact with the world and respond to God.” He argues that spiritual disciplines like fasting, solitude, and service are bodily practices that help us participate in God’s grace and train our desires.
And what about the physicality of baptism—the body submerged and then raised from the water? Or the act of eating during communion? Rather than simply informing us through a precept, God has given us practices that engage our whole bodies. He does this not because He needs to, but because we need it. It is good and helpful for us.
Think seriously for a moment about what we do with our bodies in worship. Psalm 95:6 says, “Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker.” Maybe we don’t kneel or bow enough. Consider these phrases floating around in our language: “Rise up.” “Stand up for yourself.” “Bow up.” “Walk tall.” Maybe our bodies need to be sometimes brought low to help preach to our minds and hearts awe, reverence, and flat-out submission to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.
Or how about Psalm 134:2: “Lift up your hands in the sanctuary and praise the Lord.” Here’s a question: why wouldn’t we? Tradition might be one answer—but it’s not a good one, especially when it overrides clear exhortation from Scripture.
Tradition is a funny thing. Nowhere in Scripture are we told to close our eyes in prayer—yet we do. Yet the bible is clear about us “lifting holy hands” as Paul says in First Timothy. Maybe we don’t do that enough either. Sometimes my hands are open in surrender. Sometimes they’re raised high in praise—because He deserves all glory and honor. Heck, sometimes I point to God as if to say, “You and You alone….there is no one like you.”
I have to reference my good friend Connor Shoup. He’s half my age and feels like twice my height. So many times on Sunday mornings, I catch sight of him with arms wide open in worship…just abandoned in praise with his tall frame and long arms looking like the Christ the Redeemer statue in Brazil.
You know what I’m NOT thinking in that moment? “Connor really likes this song… wow, the worship team and I must sound amazing this morning.”
No. Absolutely not.
I KNOW the words of praise and that moment of worship are colliding with his life and story—what God is doing in him. And he is responding. In faith. In worship. With his voice. With his whole being. And yes—that encourages ME in my faith. Not as a worship leader- but as a believer. A fellow sojourner seeking to live a life of surrender. His worship helps build my faith. And make no mistake—that is how it should be.
I’ve said it before: worshiping together as the people of God is one of the greatest “one another” acts we undertake as the Church. We don’t just sing TO God—we sing “to one another,” as Scripture commands. I know I’ve failed to say it enough as a worship pastor: you are free to worship. With your voice, your heart, your posture, your hands—your whole being. Based on Scripture and what I know of our God—it will be good for you and good for our church. Let self-consciousness and shame die a swift death in the worship of our gathered church. Renew our joy, Lord. Crucify any arm-crossed cynicism among us and let Your Spirit bring open hands of freedom and healing. We may not dance like David….but Lord help us not be the disconnected and dead.
If you take me up on seriously examining your posture, I pray the Spirit of God surprises you—unlocks something in your worship and your freedom. Take it from someone who’s had to rehab his own heart and posture of worship many times over—the simplest little movements can have such a huge impact.