Secret Acts of Worship
My mom passed away when I was seven years old.
(oh hi, sorry if we just met, I’m not very good at small talk).
Yes, it was a devastating time – from the little I can remember. But in the many waves and wakes of healing and restoration over the years, I find myself these days mostly trying to wrack my brain for simple memories. It often feels like mining for pebbles in the middle of the dark. I am told that she threw me birthday parties. I am told that we went on family vacations. I am told that she cherished and adored me. But truthfully, there are only two things I can remember clearly about her: When she drove me to church to rehearse for my very first solo in the Christmas pageant, and when she walked me to the bathroom in the middle of the night and stood in the doorway in her nightgown with sleep marks on her face and chest. That’s mostly it. I hadn’t really thought much about this until now - until the hours and hours of being with my own daughter. How hard this mothering work is. How deep I love my girl in my guts. How many private moments we have just the two of us every day. And as I thought about those things, sadness swept over me. I realized that I’ll never know the extent of my own mother’s sacrifice, or what songs she sung to me, or what the hardest part was about staying home with a little girl, sacrificing so much of yourself. I won’t be privy to the intimate moments or get any play-by-plays to marvel at with her. There was no one to thank her, and no one to celebrate her. I never had the chance to honour her as a mother in my own right, and I still feel slightly enraged at this injustice.
We are conditioned as humans for some kind of praise. We need external affirmation, and thumbs-up to feel encouraged and spurred on. These are good things, by the way - our brains have a particular strategy for developing belonging, safety and identity. From smarties (for pooping in the potty, obviously) to job bonuses, gold stars to thank you cards, regrams to award ceremonies, our culture tends to reinforces this through external affirmation.
But there is a deeper kind of affirmation and identity that comes from a place of peace with the “self” that we were created to be apart from other people. It’s intrinsic and hidden. It’s also ironically the necessary thing that allows us to connect to others. But we so rarely get the practice of this in real time because we have so many opportunities for those brain pathways of external affirmation to get fed, so we end up starving the very souls God wants to nourish and grow and then use to feed others. Motherhood is already the hardest work that I have done (in my whole life), and though I feel like I should get a parade most days just for getting groceries and surviving another sleepless night or confusing series of unexplainable tantrums, this lack of consistent praise over the last four years at home with my daughter has been the greatest seminary training, spiritual discipline and biblical test - exposing my heart and purifying my soul.
Be especially careful when you are trying to be good so that you don’t make a performance out of it. It might be good theater, but the God who made you won’t be applauding. When you help someone out, don’t think about how it looks. Just do it—quietly and unobtrusively. That is the way your God, who is always working in secret, helps you out” (Matt 6:1-4 MSG).
I find it fascinating that God would design the human brain to start categorizing and processing long term memories around 4-5 years old. Most of us have little memories from before that age, and that still remains largely a mystery for neuroscientists today. The building blocks of our children’s psyche is formed in the secret places, and in a parallel way, our character and singularity of heart as Jesus-worshipping parents is developed in the secret alongside them. Our daily lives become less about appreciation, and more about worship when we embrace the opportunity to do this good for the only audience that will see you do it. The only audience that will actually remember 30 years from now: El Roi, the God who sees you (Gen 16:13)
Most likely all that my daughter will recall from these young years may be a strange and specific thing that at the time I will think is nothing terribly important (like waking up in the middle of the night to stand in the doorway in silence while she pees, for example). Maybe she’ll later piece together glimpses of that fifth birthday party I’m already planning for her. Or maybe she’ll smile when she thinks about those little day-to-day things we do over the years. Maybe. But even if she doesn’t, I am still invited to love and serve and celebrate her as an act of beautiful worship - in the secret. I want her to know that the empty praise of other people will fade away. That character is built and Jesus is honoured when we do unflashy, concentrated, deep goodness for another person without any public celebration or recognition - that is, after all, how God pours Himself out for us. And this takes practice - spiritual practice, in fact. That’s why secrecy is a discipline of Christians across generations and cultures, and why in our current global and technologically saturated culture, we need to receive and practice this kind of Holy secrecy to purify our souls and tune our hearts for worship.
Now lets stop here for a second, because this entire topic can be easily misinterpreted into a kind of stoic victim-mentality. Honorably denying self, for the sake of God, creating a generation of empty, burned-out, shells. But this could not be further from the biblical truth. I know this because I interpreted it this way for years, and had to heal after spiritual self-abuse. We are to love others as we love ourselves. If you don’t know how to love and honour and appreciate yourself - your needs, dreams, preferences, history, pain, boundaries, etc, and communicate that with your life, choices, relationships and ambitions, stop reading this right now and talk to a trusted friend or counsellor. You can join me in that pursuit. Some of the hardest, most self-sacrificing years of our lives with our children are opportunities to do intense, all-consuming good without ever getting recognized by that very human you are serving. But they can also be the loneliest, which is our greatest modern epidemic. We need each other. We need to be known and heard, seen and appreciated - from a select few who are also courageous enough to be known, heard, seen and appreciated too. Because loving others will not be possible without learning who we are, and how worthy of love we are. Otherwise we will use relationships like business transactions to satisfy unmet insecurities rather than free gifts that point us (and our children) to Jesus. And please, be someone who lifts others up, too. One of the most powerful and simple acts of great leadership and influence is saying “I see you” to another human being. Jesus was really good at doing that in crowds, temples, and around the table. He called people into greatness far before they were great. He received me far before I received Him.
But let’s return to the above biblical excerpt in Matthew and consider the mysterious ways of God that lead to a promise:
“This is the way your God, who is always at work in secret, helps you out.”
The paradox and promise is that God, too, is working in a secret place inside of us, doing mysterious things that most of which we will never see - for our benefit and help. We adjust our ways to be in line with His ways because ours bring death, and His brings life. The purifying secret acts of worship give the Holy Spirit the fertile ground to plant in us what we need to experience the fullness of life with Christ - which includes parenting with joy, being in healthy relationships, and going to bed at night with peace in your soul. There is hope after all - of us becoming a people who generously pour out and receive honour and appreciation with full hearts that are unshaken, not starving souls that cling and grasp. 30 years later, my mom has ignited a gratitude deep in me that has changed my whole perspective. Her disciplines of secrecy, whether she knew it or not, produced a reward that did not burn up in heaven when she saw her Jesus face to face. And today, I can start modelling that same practice for my own daughter by helping her write simple words, or holding her in my arms while she cries about her wet socks after school. Today I can quietly and unobtrusively give of myself in simple ways the world will never know about.
Today, that is my act of worship.