An Indictment of Worthless Worshipers

Back in January, my wife, Janna, and I bought a newer car. It was kind of a big deal for us because the car was only a few years old, and neither of us had ever owned a car that was made in the same decade in which we were living. And you know how when you have something new you're careful to take care of it—you kinda baby it a little bit. Now, being from New Jersey, it's not in my nature to be a defensive driver. But with this car I would slow down almost to a complete stop over speed bumps. I wouldn't make any quick, sharp turns. We have the last parking spot in our carport, and so if we open the door too far it grinds against this cement wall, and so for the first few months, trying to get in and out of that car made me feel like I was doing yoga—trying to contort my body so I can squeeze out of there without chipping the paint on the door. The worst is trying to get into the car when Janna's been driving it and hasn't pushed the seat back. But sometimes, we park our '92 Toyota Camry in that spot. And you know something? I don't think twice about flinging the door open. Why? Well, I've had that 20 year-old car for 10 years. Familiarity, as they say, has bred contempt.

But how unfortunate that such has been true of the acts of worship in a Christian's life. Many of you can think back to a time—maybe when you were first saved—when Christianity was just so thrilling to you. You had come to grips with the reality and the depth of your own sin and the unspeakable majesty of God's holiness...

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