The mystery of worship

We had one of those services on Sunday morning. It was good to be there. It happened. They happen like that sometimes, and for those of us who lead, they bring a particular delight; now we know what we are for.
There is, for meat least, an anxiety that goes with such experiences too, however. For when things go really well, the temptation is to begin to analyse what it was that made it so good, and try to reproduce that. And I have been doing that since Sunday. Simon preached well, that's one of the elements. But Simon does preach well, so it was not simply that. I was glad to find words in the book of prayers that I sometimes use that enabled us to lament. But that happens at other times too. Sometimes when a service is particularly powerful, we feel that it is the music. Certainly, the music was good on Sunday morning - the instrumentalists were out in force, and that is always special. But that happens on other mornings too.
What happens in such services, I believe, cannot be identified with any - or even with a particular combination - of the elements. Sometimes it happens just because it does, because the Spirit comes in a particular way, and it is gift. And it is to be received as such.
When we meet in the chapel before the service for prayer, an image often occurs to me; the picture from my children's Bible of Elijah standing before the altar that he has constructed - and which is now soaking wet - and asking God to come in fire and power. (See 1 Kings;18;30-38) All sorts of things going on in that story, of course, but for me, just before we formally meet for worship, it is about what we do when we come together. We get things ready, we prepare and practice and think and focus - but if worship is going happen, it does so because the Spirit brings the fire. We meet, depending on the promise that Jesus made, that where two or three meet in his name, he is there. Whatever we do, without that promise, it is nothing - well, it may be polished performance and satisfying entertainment, but it won't be worship.
That we depend on the promise is not, of course, an excuse for not doing the best we can, and preparing carefully. But the risk comes when we begin to think that by doing the best we can, we can make it happen.
And so, if I am going to take that seriously, I need to let go of the anxiety - both when it works and when it doesn't - and let go of the pride that thinks it all depends on me. Which could make Saturday evenings and Sunday mornings a lot less stressful. Always assuming, of course, I don't let myself get anxious about the state of my anxiety......