worship

I was in a thrift store recently and spotted a box full of old dusty hymnals. I picked one up and held it in my hands. Memories came flooding back. I quickly caught myself humming number 276, Leaning on the Everlasting Arms and reminiscing about number 347, Serve the Lord with Gladness.

It made me smile. I was instantly taken back to swatch watches and youth group and squeaky pews.   

Today praise and worship songs flash on a screen with images of waterfalls and birds.  

My children won’t hold hymnals in their hands on Sunday mornings or breathe a sigh of relief when they don’t have to sing all five verses. They likely won’t belt out Blessed Assurance anytime soon.

 But they’ll worship just the same.    

 

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