I usually don’t have very profound thoughts when I’m running. This is because I usually don’t really enjoy running. I do it because it’s good for me and I feel better when I exercise, but I’m not one of those guys who just loves to go out for a run. I think those guys are weird.
But a few days ago I was running on one of the beautiful wooded trails near my house and God to spoke to me. He spoke to me through the chorus of a thousand singing crickets.
I had been running for 30 or 40 minutes when it dawned on me that for the duration of my run, for 4 miles or so, there had been the constant sound of crickets singing. Loudly. Thousands of them, if not more. Enough to drive you a bit crazy if you let them. I hadn’t really noticed the cacophony of noise because I’m usually just trying to keep from collapsing, but when I did finally notice it, that’s when God broke through and spoke to me.
He said: you can’t see them but they’re singing along.
He was right. I hadn’t seen a single cricket. They were hidden in the bushes and trees and not out on the paved trail hopping around making themselves obvious. They were invisible to me. But they were definitely there.
Why was this realization so profound? Because God was telling me that it’s the same way on Sunday mornings.
All I can see on Sunday mornings is what’s physical. I see the music on my music stand, the microphone in front of my face, the congregation in the room, the band to my right and left, the words on the screen, and that guy who never ever sings along standing in the balcony. What’s with that guy, anyway?
What I can’t see is “a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’” (Revelation 7:9-10).
I can’t see “all the angels… standing around the throne and around the elders and the four living creatures” who fall on their faces before God’s throne “saying, ‘Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever! Amen’” (Revelation 7:11-12).
I can’t see this heavenly worship just like I can’t see the crickets in the trees. I can’t see the “myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands” of angels worshipping in heaven (Revelation 5:11), but I know that they’re singing along with me as I stand at my microphone on Sunday morning.
This is awe-inspiring. This is encouraging. This is amazing. When we gather together to worship God, and when we as worship leaders stand to lead our congregation, there is a cacophony of heavenly worship that’s singing along with us.
I have a new appreciation for the invisible crickets who sing their songs invisibly from the trees. They remind me that I’m a part of something cosmic and heavenly and invisible, and that’s the unceasing worship of the Lamb upon the throne.