Why do we worship?

We don't worship to make God happy, we worship because we feel the need to do so, and because we've been drawn into the community of God. The community of God is a good place to be, and that's why we worship and pray and praise, it's not a thing done on rote in order to satisfy God's demands, it's what we do as a reaction to God's love for us.

Everyone worships something, even those who say they don't believe in anything, and that something can be more or less worthy of our worship. In this case, I mean worship in the sense of putting our trust in something, and letting that something have power over us. In that sense, many of us worship status and prestige. We worship other people, even those who couldn't care less about our well-being. We worship the amassing of wealth for wealth's sake and we worship beauty no matter how superficial it may be. We worship our desires no matter how base or destructive. We worship our accomplishments, our own talents and our own intellect and skill. Sometimes we even worship our own flaws, our self-doubt and resentment of others.  All these things are created things and are unworthy of our worship, yet we worship them anyway. These things have a name: idols.

So my question to you is, why do we put our trust in these things, and let them have power over us? They don't deserve it, and they don't help us with anything. Shouldn't we, as Christians, strive towards putting our trust in the One and Ultimate, who holds the entire world in his hands? He created us and his very being is a liberating love that shatters the insidious power that the modern idols have over us. That is someone who is worthy of our trust. That is someone who we should let have power over us, because the power is his, and the glory.

Axis mundi.

O Cross, pillar of creation, where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your sight?  How far is enough to escape your shadow? Wherever I turn, your dark shape is outlined against the heavens. You loom over all that lives, and you are justly feared. The underworld shudders under your weight, and the earth writhes in your wondrous and terrible presence. The peoples of the earth throng in their nakedness before you, swarming in exaltation and desperation. O Cross, monument of Truth, you who carried that immense burden of the Truth-in-flesh, before He slipped from your branches to walk among us. You are His challenge, His calling to all sinnersaints. I have yet to find leave from these Christ-haunted hills, where His shadowy figure flits from tree to tree, felt but unseen. Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your sight?