Reverence is Screaming
Driving around in my parent’s Volvo with heated seats and working windshield wipers to keep the rain off, I was almost in tears as a familiar song blasted through the speakers.
Nothing is really wrong in my life at the moment. I was sipping on some Starbucks and chatting with a friend just moments before listening to this song.
My tears were ready to flow because for the first time I really listened to the lyrics of Better Than Drugs by Skillet.
And I heard beauty.
And beauty makes me cry.
But what made me want to cry even more is that many people wouldn’t see this drug addict’s worship of Jesus as beautiful, reverent, or appropriate.
And stifled beauty makes me cry.
Here’s some lyrics from the song:
“You’re better than drugs
Your love is like wine
feel You coming on so fast
feel You coming on to get me high
You’re better than drugs
addicted for life…
feel You when I’m restless
feel You when I cannot cope
You’re my addiction, my prescription, my antidote
You kill the poison
ease the suffering
calm the rage when I’m afraid
to feel again.”
This song is stifled beauty because beauty and reverence towards God are expected to have too narrow of a manifestation.
I’m doing some questioning here, folks.
I’ve always been taught that beauty is something that reflects the character of God.
So, something that’s beautiful would be pure, white, pleasant, holy, good, happy…right?
I’ve been taught that reverence is a humility brought on by awe of something bigger than yourself that you wish to honor.
So, reverence is quiet, it’s still, it’s weepy, it’s somber…isn’t it?
I’m venturing to say that beauty and reverence take many more forms than tradition has allowed them to take.
And if our perception of beauty and reverence is off, then maybe we have misunderstood their source.
Maybe we have misunderstood the character of our Savior and what He accepts from us.
It’s important to reflect and maybe even rethink completely our traditional views of beauty and reverence because if we only allow beauty and reverence to look “pure” and “somber,” then some people’s worship of Jesus is declared inappropriate.
Better Than Drugs isn’t beautiful or reverent if cleanliness and silence are the key requirements.
My hope is that we will see that what God accepts as beautiful and reverent worship is profoundly different than what people accept.
Listen to Better Than Drugs. Listen past the electric guitars, drums, and John Cooper’s scratchy voice and hear the drug addict’s heart as it breaks and sees Jesus.
Listen as he talks to Jesus the only way he knows how:
“Lord, drugs have kept me alive.
Drugs have motivated and controlled me.
Drugs have been my joy and goal.
I have loved them.
But not anymore.
I’m more in love with You now than drugs.
Hear my love song to You, Father.
As I exalt You above what once captured my thoughts and life.
Take me, free me.
These words don’t come easily and You know.
But I’m strong and declaring my life Yours.
Declaring that you’re better than drugs to me.”
Props to Skillet for understanding that beauty is more than the absence of grit.
For understanding that reverence is more than kneeling and stillness.
I see beauty in this song because it’s a man’s cry for rescue, for hope. It’s his declaration that Jesus is better than drugs; better than anything. It’s the image of a man stepping down from his throne and begging Jesus to meet him there and take his life.
It’s an honoring of God’s character. It’s an example of the human condition slowly being redeemed. And not a hint of white to be seen or the sound of a trained choir to be heard.
And yet beauty remains.
I hear intense reverence in this man’s screaming because he doesn’t know any other way to be heard. He’s breaking down and lifting his voice to the sky telling Jesus that He is better.
His screams and cries come softly to the Lord’s ear as He gently reclaims another lost child.
Amidst passion and the noise of wreckage, reverence remains.
Now let’s think about the character of our Savior.
He is just as familiar with grit and filth as He is with purity and peace.
He isn’t grit, but He welcomes the gritty.
He isn’t sin, but He forgives the sinful.
He isn’t offensive, but He forgets offense.
Let’s rethink the kinds of things that make worship worship and the kinds of things that are acceptable to our Savior:
A humble spirit
Thankfulness
An honest and open heart
Acknowledging His power
Accepting His love
Affirming His sovereignty
Searching for His peace
It doesn’t matter if these things are expressed through a dance, an acoustic guitar, complete silence, or heavy metal.
There is beauty and reverence in any worship where someone is reaching up out of their broken state and declaring Jesus to be Lord.
Our soiled worship declares God Rescuer and declares us in need of rescue. What could be more worshipful, beautiful, and reverent?
If we’re honest, sometimes our pleas and feelings can’t be captured by a hymn. Sometimes, we need a night drive where we break the speed limit and yell to really throw ourselves into Jesus’ arms.
When I’m at my lowest—journal spattered with tears and a pile of snotty tissues ever growing—I love remembering that our Savior cried out to God when He was covered in His own sweat and blood and our sins.
He wasn’t clean. He wasn’t quiet. He screamed at the top of His failing lungs probably spitting up blood and dirt at the Heavens telling God,
“I have done what You wanted me to do! I have put Your will above mine! I have loved You until my death!”
What if we let the drug addict worship Jesus in his filth too?
“I have done what you wanted me to do! I have walked away from my filth and am looking at You!”
What if we let ourselves accept the same hearts that Jesus accepts despite how they are expressed?
Amidst unbearable pain and a shocking mess, beauty and reverence thrive.
Recovery and redemption aren’t the only places where beauty and reverence are found. The grimy beginning and journey is still the beautiful image of broken creatures reaching towards God.
The last thought I’ll leave is this quote stumbled upon while internet browsing:
“I feel like, God expects me to be human. I feel like, God likes me just the way I am: broken and empty and bruised. I feel like, God doesn’t look at me and wish that I were something else, because He likes me just this way. I feel like, God doesn’t want me to close my eyes and pray for Him to make me holy or for Him to make me pure; because He made me human. I feel like, God already knows I’m human…it is I who needs to learn that.” - C. JoyBell C.
Take from this what you will. We are meant to be holy, but in the context of being human. We are meant to be pure, but in the context of brokenness.
We can be beautiful and sinful.
We can be reverent and scream.