How do you feel when you leave:
• A restaurant where the food was bad?
• A movie where the ending was just terrible?
• A sporting event where your team lost?

OK, how about:
• A good restaurant?
• An exciting or touching movie?
• A sporting event where your team won?

Have you ever left one of these good events excited? Maybe the food has left you feeling all warm inside, or the movie or the football game has made you feel like you could conquer the world!

Such feelings soon fade, don’t they? We get hungry again. Our subconscious eventually reminds us it was just a movie. We look at the schedule and see that our team is playing again. We may remember these events for a long time—and forever fondly—but the change in attitude they sparked is not permanent.

On the other hand …

Have you ever gone to an event—like a special Christian speaker or a church camp or a retreat—and come away thinking, “I need to do things differently”? Maybe you had a renewed conviction to be more loving to your wife. Maybe you came out with a desire to share Christ with a particular neighbor or co-worker. Maybe you went from praying infrequently to coming out with a commitment to praying regularly.

Colossians 3:23
Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as though you were working for the Lord and not for people. (GNB)

Three weeks ago we talked about how we need to come into worship prepared to worship. It’s not something we just stumble into, but something we do on purpose, with a goal in mind of glorifying God.

The same is true for leaving worship.

What are we usually thinking about when we leave church on Sunday morning? “What are we having for lunch?”

What about when we leave a moment of personal worship? Maybe we took some time and went and sat out on the back porch with your our Bible and a glass of tea. We read from God’s Word, we prayed over it, we sipped our tea. Maybe we even softly sang a hymn or chorus that came to mind as a result of the Bible reading or something that came to us in prayer. But, eventually, the time of worship came to an end. We had to go fix dinner, or pick up the kids from school, or get back to work or we’d just prayed about all we could think to pray.

Have you ever done that and, as great as it was, a few minutes later you’re back to your old grind and, maybe, the sense of calm you had has disappeared. You felt so close to God in worship but now you’ve hardly ever felt further away.

This has probably happened on Sunday, too. You really enjoyed the service. You were encouraged by the songs and inspired by the sermon and warmed by the prayer. But just a few minutes later you’re barking at some other driver, or grumbling at the food or just generally out of sorts and—while you remember how you felt just a little bit before—your current mood makes that one seem artificial.

Maybe the problem is that you left worship and you weren’t supposed to.

[Sermon #2]

I said a little bit ago that maybe you left worship when you weren’t supposed to. If you thought I meant that you should’ve stayed at church longer—or on the back porch longer—you’re only sortof correct.

What I mean is that I don’t think we’re ever supposed to leave worship!

Maybe you’ve seen this in a church before: a sign over the doorway as you enter that says, “Enter to worship,” then a corresponding sign over the same door on the inside that says, “Depart to Serve.”

Wonderful sentiment, but I don’t think it goes far enough. You’ll notice that I put a sign over the exit that says, “Depart to Worship.” That’s confusing to a lot of people because they think of worship as something only done at church.

Let’s read something Jesus said:

Matthew 25:34-40
Then the King will say to the people on his right, 'Come, you that are blessed by my Father! Come and possess the kingdom which has been prepared for you ever since the creation of the world. I was hungry and you fed me, thirsty and you gave me a drink; I was a stranger and you received me in your homes, naked and you clothed me; I was sick and you took care of me, in prison and you visited me.' The righteous will then answer him, 'When, Lord, did we ever see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink? When did we ever see you a stranger and welcome you in our homes, or naked and clothe you? When did we ever see you sick or in prison, and visit you?' The King will reply, 'I tell you, whenever you did this for one of the least important of these followers of mine, you did it for me!' (GNB)

And let’s look (again) at another verse that we’ve seen several times in this series on worship:

Romans 12:1
So then, my friends, because of God's great mercy to us I appeal to you: Offer yourselves as a living sacrifice to God, dedicated to his service and pleasing to him. This is the true worship that you should offer. (GNB)

If you read that verse in the KJV, you’ll find that is calls this our “reasonable service”. Now, this is not reasonable as opposed to unreasonable, but reason as opposed to foolish. In other words, it’s foolish to try and do service with the body only—our whole mind and heart is to be given over to God.

In still other words …

1 Corinthians 10:31
So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God. (ESV)

Service can be done by itself, but it works best—and serves the best purpose—if it is done as a part of worship. Too often, service without worship is designed to serve ourselves. But service as a part of worship is done to glorify God.

“All … “ That’s not just “all on Sunday”. And you can’t say, “I give God my all several times a week.” That’s not all. That’s “part of.”

I know this isn’t easy. We’re people who are used to having things our own way. We may say we never have things our own way, but we keep trying, don’t we? “Monday through Friday belongs to my work place. Evenings belong to my kids’ activities. Sunday belongs to the church and Saturday mornings—if I’m lucky—are mine!” It’s hard to break that cycle.

JRR Tolkein wrote a strange little short story called “Leaf by Niggle”. Niggle is a man who lives alone and love to paint. He’s not an especially gifted painter, but he blames that on the fact that he never gets to really stick to the paintings. Every time he tries, he gets interrupted. His neighbor needs something. Someone else comes to call. And everyone who comes over sees this giant painting Niggle is working on of a tree. It’s so big that Niggle has to get on a ladder to paint the top portions. The tree itself isn’t much to look at it, but everyone who looks at the painting remarks that Niggle is pretty good at painting leaves.

What Niggle really wants to finish on the painting, though, are the little bits of countryside one sees if they look through the gaps in the leaves. In one place on the painting, if the viewer looks close, one can see some enticing snow-capped mountains. In another place, one sees fields of growing things. Of all these little gaps, of all the big tree branches, and of all the expertly painted little leaves, what intrigues Niggle most is that one gap with the view of the mountains. Above all else, he wants to work on that little spot because he’s anxious to see what it will look like. Between interruptions, he tries to hurry because he knows his time is limited for he has a long journey to make.

But a terrible storm comes and tears off part of his grumpy neighbor’s roof and the only thing to patch the hole and keep the neighbor and his wife dry is Niggles beloved canvas. Niggle gives up the canvas—pretty unwillingly at the time—and winds up in a hospital. At first, he’s a patient, and then he’s a worker. Finally, just as he’s gotten really good at taking care of the sick, Niggle is taken on his long journey. There, Niggle learns (as do we, the audience) that this final long journey is death. And we learn that Niggle’s painting—the one he was so devoted to—was the gospel message. In heaven, he sees that mountain he always wanted to see, but now it’s for real and not just a painting. And he learns that all those interruptions—the interruptions that he thought were keeping him from seeing the mountains—were actually what got him to the mountain because they were tasks set before him by God. By doing them—by taking care of his neighbor and welcoming his guests—he was showing people who didn’t appreciate his art the real meaning of the art and the real patron.

It’s been speculated that the story is autobiographical. Tolkien spent almost 40 years writing “The Lord of the Rings” and “The Hobbit” and “The Silmarillion” and, at times, he was pretty annoyed—even angry—by the things that interrupted his writing of it. He, after all, had this great story that would not only entertain but would help him express his faith! What he learned—and what he tried to convey in “Leaf by Niggle”—was that many of those interruptions were when he really was able to convey his faith: to friends, to family. And, upon realizing that—without dying, as Niggle had to do to realize it—he came to welcome not only the chance to write, but the interruptions.

What do I DO with this?

Depart to worship. Realize that all of life is a chance to worship. To give glory to God.

Depart and worship!