Believe it or not, this question is the product of a government committee. True Story.
As I understand the history, Parliament convened the group of lay persons and clergy, known as the Westminster Assembly, to hash through the important issues of the day. Many were concerned with such things as who was boss--King or Archibishop . . . or pope, or whether anyone could boss around the local church, what prayers would be said, what hymns sung, and whether Papists floated like a witch and should therefore be burned
OK, that was a gratuitous Monty Python reference. But suffice it to say that the assembly, like England itself, trying to figure out what or who had "authority" in a time of social upheaval. Everything was subject to question. England eventually descended into Civil War and regicide with the beheading of Charles I. In the midst of it all, the assembly suffered "Mission Creep." In response to Parliament's request, the assembly created the Westminster Confession of Faith, the Westminster Shorter Catechism and the Westminster Larger Catechism. The title of this post is the first question in that mini-catechim.
Gee. Thanks, Westminster. We're leaping off into the abyss, everything seems in turmoil, and you couldn't have given us something easy? You couldn't give us five steps to our "Best Life Now," or a rhyming "to do" list of how to improve our marriages or make our kids behave or get wealthier because "God Rocks" and wants us to be healthy and wealthy? Modern churchy life is way more practical.
Nooooooooooo. You have to start with, "What's the meaning of life, the universe and everything? Why are we here?"
Wait a minute. Maybe they had something there. Maybe this is the place to start.
Q. 1. What is the chief end of man?
A. Man’s chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.
**blink**
Isn't this always where we lose our way? Isn't this one thing, trying to replace God, the root of all the times I fall on my face? Every time I do the wrong thing? Even every time I do the right thing for the wrong reason? All those things I do that I should not have done and those things I omit to do that I should have done? What was it the serpent said in tempting mankind to do the one thing God said not to do? "You shall be like gods."
By putting this question first, it is as if the old timers know I need a daily reminder:
Indeed, I am not him.
Pick up "The Book" and read the beginning. There is a description of God speaking light and energy and everything that is or ever will be into existence by breathing a word, "Let there be light." Gen. 1:3. Skip to the end and you see the implications of that power: "You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being." Rev. 4:11. Whether you consider this a "big bang" or a literal seven day creation account, does not really matter to me. There is one thing I know: I couldn't manage to create something from nothing in either way. The one who can create something from nothing is boss. I'm not.
So, what does it mean if I'm willing to accept that I'm not the boss, in any given moment? Hard to say, but I think when I'm willing to get out of the boss' chair, I am able to make my actions an offering of thanks to the one who breathed it all into being. The race and the training or the job and the family, anything and everything can become an act of worship.
In one of my favorite lines from Chariots of Fire, Eric Liddell tells his sister, Jenny, "I believe God made me for a purpose, for China. But he also made me fast. And when I run I feel his pleasure. . . . To win is to honor Him." I have only rarely made my life an act of worship like that. If I do so, it is only because I am jolted into it.
For example, the first time I did the Wildflower Long Course triathlon, I was with a large group of friends with whom I had never raced. I was worried about how I'd do, how I would look, and what they would think of me. Notice how many times "I" and "me" appear in that sentence. The result was predictable. I had a horrible swim and was struggling through the bike--until my focus came off of myself. While I was in the aero bars, I looked down at my wrist and saw the red "band of hope," the emblem of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. In an instant, "woe is me," vanished, and I realized how thankful I should be. I am physically able to ride a bike. I was healthy enough to be outdoors in the sunshine. The pedaling did not get easier, and I did not win the race, but I felt "his pleasure," if only briefly.
Like The Book says, "[W]hether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God." 1 Cor. 10:31. What is your act of thanksgiving and worship? Do you experience that searing in your lungs or the pain in your legs only so you can get higher, faster and stronger. Or is it an offering to the one who stitched you together, a sacrifice of praise for health and power? Of the 38,000 steps in the marathon, how many belong to you? Who are you running for?
More on this next week. Now, go run.
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