Waiting For My Kids

My beautiful wife and two gorgeous daughters went to see her mum (their grandmum)for a couple of weeks over Easter. It sounded like a good idea when we booked the tickets back in November, but it wasn't long into the trip that I realized that I do not like being away from my family for that long. I missed them terribly.

Last Sunday they arrived home. I was excited to see them all again. As I waited at the arrivals area in the airport I paced nervously hoping for that first glimpse of my three girls. I check the various vantage points from our waiting area behind the thin black strap that was the demarcation line for those arriving and those waiting. I figured out the exact spot where I could look down the hallway and see the first glimpse of my family as soon as the double doors at the end would open.

It seemed like forever, but the doors opened one more time and there they were - looking as precious as ever. My wife and I saw each other first and I could see her telling the girls 'Look, there is daddy!'.

What happened next was priceless.

My oldest daughter, Cara, saw me first. Her response was beautiful. She dropped her little pull along bag right where she was and took off running right for me. She was only stopped in her tracks by her mother calling her back to bring her bag. Cara scooped up the handle of the bag and took off running again. She ignored the 'security' barrier, such as it was, and dropped the bag again as she ducked under the tape and hugged me as tightly as a 4 year old can.

My younger daughter having seen, and heard, her sister equally ran with all of her might and ignored all protocols of remaining behind the barrier and did everything she could to get to her daddy. I scooped them both up and was almost strangled by their loving embraces and smother with their kisses. It was a beautiful feeling.

This week in our church we started a new series on worship. Worship means to 'come towards to kiss' and is the thing that we are designed to do. As I thought about worship I replayed in my mind my experience at the airport and wondered if every Sunday morning is like that for God.

I imagined God coming to our church service early, pacing back and forward trying to get the best place where He can see us as soon as we walk into the building. I imagined the Father standing patiently waiting only for the doors to open and for us to come into His presence in worship. I wondered what our response would be. Would we be like my Cara and drop our baggage and start running towards the Father. When we come into worship on Sunday mornings are we more focused on the baggage we brought with us or are do we drop everything when we see His face and run with all of our might to our Daddy. Do we jump into His arms and throw our arms around His neck and tell him over and over again that we love Him?

Or is our approach to worship something else? Do we carry our baggage, and slow ourselves down? Do we walk into God's presence or do we run with total abandon? Do we jump into God's arms or do we hold back, quiet and reserved? I hope that this Sunday when we come into worship we hold nothing back. From the very first chord I hope that we run with full force, leaving all of our baggage behind and throw ourselves onto the King of Kings.

Wouldn't that be neat?