New Year's Resolution: Escape from worship I-land

I hate New Year's resolutions. Why promise yourself some major improvement in your life that you aren't likely to remember having committed to by President's day? But this year I'm about to make one.

Here it is: I need to find a place where I can worship God with other people. I'm thinking a church, but I could be wrong.

I've been turning this idea over in my mind vigorously since yesterday morning, when it took all my effort not to just run screaming from the building. This morning, I ran across this quote that Beth posted. Chesterton just says it better than I ever could:

People are losing the power to enjoy Christmas through identifying it with enjoyment. When once they lose sight of the old suggestion that it is all about something, they naturally fall into blank pauses of wondering what it is all about. To be told to rejoice on Christmas Day is reasonable and intelligible, if you understand the name, or even look at the word. To be told to rejoice on the 25th of December is like being told to rejoice at quarter-past eleven on Thursday week. You cannot suddenly be frivolous unless you believe there is a serious reason for being frivolous.
--GK Chesterton

To paraphrase GK, I have lost the power to enjoy "worship" because it has been so identified with enjoyment. I have lost the ability to sing "worship" songs that are primarily about how I feel about God, or how God makes me feel, or how it feels to sing about God. Or something like that. Mostly I find the songs just don't make sense, or to the extent that they make sense, I just can't say them. I'm having trouble remembering the lyrics from yesterday, but one line stands out: "No one sees the way he looks at me." A song that starts that way should be a makeout track, not a worship song. Even a song entitled "My Confession" started out with a verse of all-about-me-and-how-I-feel.

What ever happened to singing songs about God or to God that are actually about God, not me? I seem to remember songs that talked about God's love or faithfulness or grace, that retold the story of the cross, or longed for God's reign in the world. Didn't we used to worship God, instead of our feelings? Here it is, five minutes after Christmas, and we've put aside the carols (which have quite a bit of substance to them, along with the silliness of "no crying he makes") for the feeling-good-today drivel.

So, in one of those "blank pauses of wondering what it is all about," I find myself longing for a different kind of worship and googling Episcopal churches in the neighborhood. There's one right down the street from the community center where the church we attend meets -- with a quiet communion service at 8:30 am.

I've resisted this move for a year now. One the one hand, I think the way forward for us will eventually be something more like a house church, so investing in institutional church of any form seems like a step backwards. As a practical matter, hubby and the kids like this church. Hubby is invested in the children's ministry, which has the double advantage of using his gifts (leading singing for the kids) and getting him out of the service. I thought I could quietly sit through an hour and a half of a service I really don't like without any harm, but I'm not so sure now.

So here's my resolution for the New Year: I'm going to go to church with the intention of worshipping God. I'm going to stick it out long enough that the liturgy doesn't seem strange. I'm going to let the narratives of salvation form my heart and mind. I'm going to sing songs about God, not my emotional states. I'm going to learn to worship again.