Questions have a way of getting our attention, whether from Mom at toothbrush time, the school teacher at quiz time, or the trooper patrolling the interstate. Questions “niggle” at us like pebbles in the shoe too small to bother with, too big to ignore. But Scriptures draw this bow at a venture to put arrow-questions inside our armor of self-respect.
What is worship? Listening to a sermon or letting a surrogate stand in for one of my life’s joys? Is it thanksgiving? Partly. Suppose I’m hauled aboard, dripping and cold, by a bunch of drunks, after falling off the Puget Sound Ferry in winter. I’m clearly grateful, and will be by card or phone in years to come for my life being saved. But admiration? No.
Worship includes both gratitude and admiration: We bow, we sing and we pray both for what He has done and for who He is.
“What mean ye by this service?” (Ex. 12:26).
In Exodus, the intent is to pass on the heritage of God’s grace to future generations who never experienced the wilderness and its privations. Such questions also keep dads on their toes, requiring answer even to this day in Christian households.
“To what purpose is this waste?” (Matt. 26:8).
In Matthew, the implicit message is service comes first. But does it? Suppose I’m a whiz at doing chores for my wife: shiny dishes, garbage outside in a trice, windows squeaky clean but never a bouquet of flowers, never any romantic expressions, never an “I love you.” Such is the all work no play mentality. How much better when feet, hands, eyes, ears—every faculty—is, in its time, attentive to the object of my affection (and hers for me, too!). Does our blessed Lord deserve less?
“Couldst not thou watch one hour?” (Mark 14:37).
In Mark, I find that the Lord Jesus craves my companionship: not a sword (“put it away, Peter”), not an endowment (“If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldst thou not have done it?” [2 Kings 5:13]), not even a vain protest to the authorities the powers that be (would I, even if I could, deflect the divine work of redemption?). He wants only my simple response to His desire for companionship.
“Where are the nine?” (Luke 17:17).
In Luke, perhaps my natural and first instincts would be to follow Cain’s example with an insolent, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” But the Divine Questioner well knew He was asking the wrong people, seeking to exercise their consciences by His query.
But more than teaching of the intellect, there is happy example. Consider the honeybee. The scouts fan out from the hive at sunup, find the best flower fields, then return to give their sun-oriented waggle-dance to guide the workers.
Where are the nine, indeed, if I have not shown by happy example the fields of plenty the rich harvest of worship personally enjoyed.
Four questions. Four pebbles in the shoe?
Childlike attend what Thou wilt say,
Go forth and serve Thee while’tis day,
Nor leave our sweet retreat.
Little Flock Hymnbook, #250
D. Lunden (adapted)