Knees

It was a Saturday. Just a regular old Saturday. April 5, 2008 to be exact. I had just turned the magical age of 21, and my dear boyfriend of five years was taking me out for a ho-hum, run-of-the-mill date night at The Old Spaghetti Factory in Downtown Nashville.

It was only 4:30 in the afternoon.

Normally, he worked until 5, but for some apparent reason, he was in a huge hurry to get me to dinner. Right then. It couldn't wait.

He was so antsy that I thought I was going to have to slip him a Xanax.

So there we sat. A couple of twentysomethings getting the blue-haired special at 4:30 on a Saturday "night."

I curiously watched him as I munched on my salad. Legs shaking under the table. Picking at his food. Constantly looking at those around him (yes, there were actually other people eating at 4:30 besides us).

And as I sat there with a mouthful of lettuce, it happened.

"I can't wait any longer," he declared. With one simple move, he slid out from the booth and onto his knees with a red box in hand. The box opened to reveal a gorgeous diamond and my choice for the future.

"Will you marry me?"

Mouth still brimming with lettuce and eyes watering, I nodded and watched as he adorned my left hand with his undying commitment.

I love marriage proposals. I've been fortunate enough to witness a few of them in my day, including one during a beauty pageant at Samford University and one during the pre-show of the Indiana Jones stunt show at DisneyWorld.

And just like in the movies, before offering himself and his ring to the woman, the man always falls to his knees.

Sure, kneeling is classic stance for proposing, but we kneel for lots of reasons. We kneel to pick things up, to rest, when working. We might even kneel when exercising (hello, yoga).

We kneel in church. Or at least, sometimes we do.

I think kneeling in worship is a lost art. Take a look around on a Sunday (at least at a Baptist church), and you'll rarely see a bent knee. Just standing. Blank stares. Maybe singing.

Kneeling isn't that big of a deal, you might say. There's no reason I have to. It's really not that comfortable. So why on earth should I do it?

These past nine months have kept me looking back to the book of Job. If you haven't read it, and you're currently experiencing a rough time in your life (and even if you aren't), I highly recommend flipping to it. It's one of the most poignant books in the Bible and a favorite of mine, so you might hear me reference it from time to time.

Need a recap?

Job is a fabulous, upright man who avoids all things evil. Because he stands in such favor with the Lord, the Lord blesses him. He gives Job a wife, 10 children, and more animals than he can count. He loves the Lord. And the Lord loves Job.

Enter: the villain. Satan has had his eye on Job, and he goes to speak with God regarding this "perfect, upright" fellow. Satan is itching for Job to curse God and tells God that if Job wasn't quite so blessed, he might just do it.

God grants Satan the permission he asks.

And so, tragedy strikes Job's household. All of his children are killed. All of his livestock, gone. Most of his servants, save a few who are able to report back to Job, also gone. Job is stricken from his head to his feet with boils. Oddly enough, the only person who escapes unscathed is his wife, who tells him to curse God and die.

And so what does he do?

He falls to his knees and worships.

Kneeling is such an intimate way of giving praise to God, isn't it? In biblical times, a person knelt to the Lord when they were in such awe of His glory. His presence. His goodness. It's a way of saying, "I can't even get to my feet, Lord, because I am so struck by Your greatness." It acknowledges Him as King, and you as His faithful servant. It displays how small and unworthy you are and how perfect and sovereign He is.

It's worshipful.

I think it's interesting, though, because when you've been a believer for quite some time, there's a tendency to "get used to" the notion of His holiness. We become numb to it. Yeah, we know. Been there, done that.

But He will always find a way to bring you back.

The question is, what is it going to take?

For some, it may take losing a job. For others, it may take losing their homes. Cancer. Divorce. Death.

It took losing two children to bring me back to my knees. And I hate that. I hate that it took a huge shove of painful reality to bring me back to a place of worship. To a place of recognizing that I'm not in control. To a place of knowing that He is God.

It certainly got my attention. And it's sad that that's what it took.

May it not be that way for you, my friend. May the trials that come your way not be a necessity in bringing you back into His presence. May the storms of your life be merely opportunities to know Him more. To love Him more. To worship Him more.

May we be like eager bridegrooms who can't wait to offer ourselves by falling to our knees.

If you think you won't bow, you are sorely mistaken. The Bible tells us that, one day, every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

So what's it going to take to bring you to your knees? A nudge and the utterance of His name? Or a shove into the depths of reality?

It's up to you.

Come, friend. Right now. It can't wait.

Bend your knees. And worship.

"Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shaved his head, and fell down upon the ground, and worshiped." ~Job 1:20