Like many parents, I learn a lot about life and kids and the world by taking my turn driving the soccer car pool. As the numbers of youth in the car go up, there is a greater chance for the adult driver to become invisible, to just listen, to learn. On the other hand, I have enjoyed conversations with kids about politics, religion, school, and, of course, music on the radio. One evening the car-full was complaining that a particular song was so old. I figured they were talking about 50's, 60's. 70's, 80's, even 90's. But I didn’t recognize the song. So I inquired. “How old is it? This song that is now so tired and worn. “I think it came out last summer, maybe the spring.” Thus, I guess, the phrase, “that’s so two-weeks ago!” An old song. Right!

On the other hand, what new song could possibly come out of the Old Testament, the Book of Psalms, the laments and the hymns and the liturgies of the ancient people of God. As in “O sing to the Lord a new song, for the Lord has done marvelous things.” That is so B.C.! A new song. Right! Psalm 98. A declaration of God’s victory. An affirmation that all of creation offers praise. The anticipation that the Lord is coming to judge the world with righteousness. “Make a joyful noise to the Lord all the earth, break forth into joyous song and sing praise!” And the car-full on the way to church, as all were moaning because no one “feels” like going to worship, one voice cracks through the fog of discontent. “So what’s so new about that?”

The Psalter contains such a rich diversity of prayers and hymns, of complaint and lament, of praise and adoration, of one voice and of many voices. Psalms that drip wisdom: “Blessed are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the paths that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers, but their delight is in the law of the Lord and on God’s law they meditate day and night.” (Ps. 1). Royal psalms that celebrate the kingship of God: “The Lord is king, the Lord is robed in majesty. The Lord is robed. The Lord is girded with strength.” (Ps. 93). But there is more to the collection than simply a supply of ala carte prayers to be used as you take the pulse of your day. As with one book of prayers on my shelf where the table of contents lists prayers for a winter day, or a wedding anniversary, or the morning after a storm, or the day after a funeral, or for new year’s eve, or for Palm Sunday. You’ve seen how that works with the Psalms. We’re at the cemetery; Psalm 23. It’s Thanksgiving Day; Psalm 100. A service of reconciliation; Psalm 133. A prayer for peace; Psalm 122. But there is a broader logic to the Psalter collection. A wisdom to the Book of Psalms. A theology reflected in the 150 psalms put there together. There’s a certain lasting newness.

Professor Pat Miller’s book Interpreting the Psalms ought to be required reading for any pastor who rises to preach a psalm text. As Dr. Miller explains the relationship between psalms of lament and psalms of praise he points that there is more going here than simply a pendulum swing going back and forth. Today its praise. Tomorrow its supplication. Yesterday its adoration. Next week it’s a cry of anguish. Life in the community is painful, so we lament. Things are going well for the people of God so we sing! No. The prayer life reflected by the psalmist is not an exit poll. Miller describes the psalter as a steady “movement toward praise.” Maybe not a simple straight line where all dots can be connected, but a movement nonetheless where the ultimate and final word is intended to be praise and adoration of God. To be led in song by the Book of Psalms, is to move ever closer to the lasting word of praise. For in Miller’s own words, “praise more than any other act fully expresses utter devotion to God and the loss of self in extravagant exaltation of the transcendent Lord who is the ground of all.”

Finding your voice in what is a steady movement toward praise. Losing your self there amid the communities song. Realizing that praise and adoration is less and less about you and more and more about God. Knowing that your presence in worship is really part of a much larger symphony of praise. I think that’s what it means to sing something new. Discovering your desire to yet offer praise to God even after a dark night of the soul. Acknowledging that your heartfelt praise to the Living God is not wholely dependent upon your ability to count your blessings one by one, or to wait until the heavenly scales have tipped in your direction. Imagining that your feeble notes of adoration are somehow joined together with the saints and multiplied by the great cloud of witnesses and bolstered by creation itself before they ever get to the ears of God. That must be something of what it means to sing a new song. Finally understanding that you are more nearly who God created you to be when you are one among many offering praise and worship to the Almighty, that such a steady movement toward praise resonates with the very purpose of life, finding your self somewhere along that joyful march onward until that day when, as Dr. Miller puts it, “All that is God hears the praise of all that is created.” Singing something new.

Ray Bracken taught me a long time ago that the things of worship are never just about theology, that there is always a practical side, a reality check. Some in the church had started joining hands during the benediction at the conclusion of worship. The practice caught on a bit. I would even wait before pronouncing as people joined hands. I noticed that Ray began to leave church during the final hymn. Sunday after Sunday I watched him walk out as the congregation was singing. I knew he didn’t have NFL football tickets. He wasn’t setting up for coffee hour. So finally I asked him. “Ray, what’s with leaving worship during the hymn?” “As long as we’re expected to hold hands, I’m leaving. Too many germs. I’m too old to catch a cold!” I guess some people still held hands but I stopped waiting for it or inviting it. That’s practical theology!

There is no shortage of wrestling with the practical side when it comes to our worship life here at Nassau Church. Parking. Sunday morning schedule. Time constraints. Children in worship. Sunday morning phone calls to find out whose preaching. Scheduling of choirs. Family commitments. Sunday morning activities out there. You and I are confronted with some Ray Bracken-like reality check every Sunday. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve tried to make people feel less guilty when they see me at the grocery story and I’ve reminded them that it’s not about perfect attendance. And I mean that. And I don’t think it’s about judging the weekly decisions we are forced to make. Yet, there is a theological affirmation to be made about corporate worship on the Lord’s Day and that steady movement toward praise. An affirmation about the importance of your place here among God’s people when we lift our hearts before the Lord. There is a pastoral word to be offered in encouraging you to sing something new.

Not to long ago we had some friends for dinner. In the hustle and confusion of getting ready to eat, food was coming to the table and was being passed and some were still working on the beverages out in the kitchen. It was far from a formal evening around our family table. One of the guests started to nibble just a bit before everyone had arrived. “Don’t eat yet” I heard one of the kids say. “I’m sorry, I should wait until everyone sits down.” “No, we haven’t said a blessing yet!” “What’s a blessing?” came the response. And there was silence and the food rotation came to stop. Finally someone simply said, “We have to thank God!”

The family table here is set. Amid the formalities, the liturgy, the food rotation, your place is set. Your participation here is beyond table blessing. For this is an act of praise. Yes, of course we give thanks; for the gifts of life and for the steadfast love of God, and for the gift of salvation in Christ Jesus who is our host at this table. But here our adoration goes far beyond a laundry list of thanks. Here at the table we join in a glorious song that has already started, a song that is eternally new. Here at the table you can lose yourself in among a choir of angels even as Christ himself bids you to come. Here, with your wordless act of praise, as you take and eat, as you lift the cup, here at this kingdom meal you and I share in a divine and steady movement of praise. “O sing to the Lord a new song.”

Come, sing something new. The disciplines of your worship life need not depend on things going well. Your presence here need not wait for the struggles of life to shove you here. Come, sing something new. After a tumultuous week in the public square where it would seem that the terms evangelical and Christian are so wedded together that some of you wonder if you even belong in place called “church”, or on a morning when the violence in Iraq escalates even more and the Israeli/Palestinian relationship is poised to erupt even more, come and dare to offer yourself in praise to the God of all creation, knowing that this act of worship stretches and reaches for that kingdom that shall surely come on earth as it in heaven. Sing something new. Model for your children that God alone is worthy of praise even when you don’t feel like going to church. Affirm in your relationship with God that this Sunday morning commitment has more to do with what you put in than what you get out. Sing something new. You think the family calendar is tough, come worship next to someone who wasn’t sure they could reach down and tie their shoes this morning, or someone whose mother died on Wednesday, or someone who received some test results from the doctor on Friday, or a teenager who has a friend who talks all the time about hurting herself. Come and sing for them one Sunday.

Come to the Table this morning. And if someone asks what this is all about? This is an act of praise. And you and I are fully expressing our utter devotion to God.

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