Keys: Worship

Psalm 150

Hebrews 10: 23 - 25

Colossians 3: 16 – 17

World Communion Sunday

October 5, 2025

Just a few weeks after Becky and I were engaged, I boarded a plane that would take me to Okinawa, Japan that would serve as home base for a 13-month tour of duty. For a kid raised in San Diego, Okinawa might as well as been the moon. In some ways it reminded me later of New Jersey. Both locations got a bad rap for urban sprawl, but you didn’t have to travel too far in either site before you were in truly gorgeous farmland.

As an introvert coming from an upper middle-class family, the communal life of the barracks took a little getting used to. Every cubicle had a set of bunk beds, two large lockers for your service and civilian clothing, and – it seemed – every cubicle had a stereo systema and speakers loud enough to provide sound for the Rose Bowl. Electronics were very inexpensive overseas.

The training was tough – six days a week, but I loved it. It was exactly what I thought I had joined the service for. In many, many ways it was my best tour of duty. Except for one thing. Did I say I was newly engaged? I had a picture from our Senior Prom on the inside door of my locker. I took a lot of good-natured harassment for that, but I missed Becky terribly.

We finally settled on a schedule of phone calls every two weeks. I had $200 deducted from my monthly paycheck to cover the cost of my middle of the night collect phone calls to her parent’s home. $200 a month doesn’t sound like a lot of money today, but back then I was only taking home about $700 a month.

Oh, but it was worth it. I would stand in line at the phone exchange waiting for my turn to call. Each single call was so expensive that rarely were any of the callers talking for more than 10 minutes or so. But, oh, what a wonderful 10 minutes. They were filled with expectations – things that I wanted, things that I needed to hear.

For me, the phone calls were placed early in the evening. For Becky, her phone rang around 2:00am. The phone would ring and then I would listen to the operator ask Becky if she was willing to accept an overseas long-distance phone call from a “James Szeyller.” Sometimes there was a pause after the question - I was waking her up. But usually there was a quick yes and then the conversation began.

Sometimes it wasn’t much of a conversation. I had been waiting for two weeks to talk with Becky. I always anticipated these lively conversations where we both talked enthusiastically about our lives and upcoming wedding. And sometimes it was actually like that. But often, Becky just listened as I told her about my life. She would often respond with short, sleepy answers. But soon my time would run out and I would have to say goodbye. Then I was counting the days until our next phone call.

Sometimes those phone calls were glorious and filled with everything I had needed and hoped for. Sometimes those conversations were like talking to a sleeping body; filled with long pauses; not unlike today when our cell phone reception is spotty and uneven.

But every time, no matter what I had anticipated, no matter my agenda for the conversation, no matter if the conversation was lively and hopeful or quiet and sleepy, that phone call met critical relational needs for me.

The need to connect. The need to hear her voice. The need to learn about how wedding plans were developing and what, if anything, I could do. Those phone calls were an opportunity to hear that I was loved and for me to tell Becky of my love for her. Those phone calls were a regular shot in the arm, an encouragement to keep going and stay focused. In the Philippines, I had to walk 3 miles to make those phone calls. They were worth every step!

Those phone calls were a lifeline that filled me and reminded me of who I was. In the midst of a demanding and rigorous training schedule, of deployed life, those phone calls were what I needed to fully live my life.

Friends, is not worship supposed to fill a similar place in our lives? Our world is hectic and demanding. The pace of change is relentless and unforgiving. Our created, self-serving idols run rampant, our attention gets diverted, and sometimes we simply get overwhelmed – overcome – and we forget that life is more than our schedules, more than our grade point averages, more that our job titles, more than the size of our bank accounts or the location of our home address.

Friends – regular, in person worship – is meant to be a place where we come simply for the joy of hearing God’s voice in word and song. Worship is meant to be a place where we sit still in anticipatory silence, knowing – just like when Becky would wake up and start talking again in our mid-night phone conversations – KNOWING that God will speak if we simply listen and wait, sure that God has a word for us.

Worship is meant to be a place where we get encouraged to live faithful lives and gain comfort and support from fellow pilgrims trying to do the same. Worship is meant to be a place where we praise God and give thanks for God. Worship is meant to be a place where we are reminded – just like in my phone call – that our relationship is real, meaningful, and worth the investment of our time and resources.

Sure, we bring our preferences, our agendas, our expectations. If we are honest, we are from a particular socio-economic level and so we expect a certain level of performance excellence, although we are rarely so crass as to voice that expectation out loud. We simply demonstrate our disappointment with our feet. Like a national hamburger chain, we want worship our way. But we forget that the sanctuary is filled with competing orders.

Worship was never meant to be about us. Can I say that again? Worship was never meant to be about us – our needs, our preferences, our worship style expectations. Worship has always been about believers – church family members - who come together confidently expecting God to speak through a multitude of different styles and experiences. Worship is an opportunity; meant to be a regular opportunity for us to express our love and praise to God.

Regular, in person worship reconnects us with our divine beloved. Regular worship lets us hear our beloved’s voice and be reminded of the relationship we share. Regular, in person worship is sometimes inconvenient – coming at a time when we would rather be doing something else, like sleeping for Becky when I called in the middle of the night, or playing and recovering like the rest of us today. Worship reminds us who we are, whose we are, and what we are to be about.

Our scripture lessons remind us that God eagerly awaits our worship. Connection. Love. Communication. Transformation. Encouragement. Hope. That’s what worship is all about. It is certainly worth the price of a regular phone call. Amen.