The Cathedral you are building began with a simple altar.

Dear friend,

Oh that. Pile of stones, yeah? Seem casually thrown there. But there for a long time. Probably carried there. So taken there with a lot of effort. And heavy. Not easily moved. Each one probably required extra equipment, and extra help. This doesn't look like a one person job. These stones got sweated over and spoken about and sworn at as they were squared away. What looks so casual was anything but-- just like many things in our lives; it was a process of blood, sweat and tears that could have been shut down at any point. And still, this pile of stones still stands. What's more, archaeologists tell us that piles of rocks like this one were some of the earliest altars. Over time, piles of rocks became carved rocks. Carved rocks became marble slabs. Marble slabs became ornate altars. (And the ornate altar became the worship band and really confused everyone, but I digress.) And around these altars came the buildings. Bigger and bigger over time. Temples and Synagogues and Churches, I believe we called them?

What does that have to do with you, friend? Simply put, humans are creatures created to, or built to, or simply do, worship. Without too much gamesmanship, or gameswomanship, or gamespersonship, I think we could agree on that. Worship is a sticky religious word. Let's take it out of that category, if we can... let's say it's simply "the desire to give homage, or simply pay attention. to something outside ourselves." The rational human might simply describe that as "my central focus" OK. Let's go with that.

So are you ready, rational human? Are you ready, religious person? Are you ready, Christ follower? Because I'm not. And I know what I'm about ready to write. Because I've said it before, many times, to many of you. And I've written it before, to in letters to some that I love. And what I here write is not my original idea. But I wholeheartedly subscribe. Even though it cuts me deep and I'd rather run from the truth of it in my own life:

The simplest definition of worship is this:

Worship is what you look at the most and what you talk about the most.

The simplest definition of central focus is this:

Central Focus is what you look at the most and what you talk about the most.

Notice it's NOT what you think about the most. That's what we'd like to think, yeah? So that we can pretend that the Jesus in us or the Yoda in us or the Gandalf in us or our inner Confucius or our inner Dumbledore is truly winning the day. When instead we've got the ox cart hooked up on a hot July day and we've called our friends to the field and we're moving heavy stones one at a time into what is going to become an altar we don't really want to admit to having.

Because if worship, for example, is what I think about most and what I talk about most,

Then I'm worshiping him

Then I'm worshiping her

Then I'm worshiping it.

Then I'm worshiping my problem.

Then I'm worshiping my anxiety.

Then I'm worshiping my depression.

Then I'm worshiping my addiction.

Then I'm worshiping my darkness.

Then I'm worshiping my past.

Then I'm worshiping my sin.

Then I'm worshiping me.

Oh, sorry friend. got off on a tangent there. That's was my list. Don't know about yours. Your story. Not mine. Everyone has their own stones. Usually, that's why I find the process of throwing stones at other people is so incredibly ineffective. Because we're a lot quicker at throwing them at ourselves.

Quick question. Do you really want him to have a church in your life? Do you her to have a temple? Does your addiction still deserve a cathedral. I know I spend enough on mine to build a cathedral, but do I really want to take my children and my wife to it and give them the proud tour on a Sunday morning? What have I sacrificed at the altar of my anxiety? Yes. All real problems Yes. All real struggles. Trust me I know. Trust me I've watched. (If I told you I'd listened, we both know I'd be lying. Listening-- not my greatest gift.) When we allow our pains and our problems to take a larger place in our lives then the God who can actually do something about them, something is incredibly amiss. And the more rocks you haul, the more trips you make, the bigger the altar grows, the larger the danger looms that the bitter stained glass of bitterness will soon be decorating your cathedral. And any pastor who's every had stained glass in his cathedral can tell you, once stained glass is in, you're never getting rid if it, for any reason.

Friend, I think you deserve better. So does the God who created you to worship Him. What do you think?

thus spake,

me.