Sometimes, Worship Should Be Hard

We plan our worship services several months in advance. We choose themes for each service and discuss how to introduce them.

Last Sunday, our chosen theme was “Our Good God.”

In the canon of worship themes we use, the goodness of God is not as difficult to explain as something like transcendence or immanence. But on Sunday, July 6, 2025, it was hard.

As we filed into the church and greeted one another, nearly 100 people were still missing due to flash floods in Texas. Tragedies happen, and they are all difficult—but this was different. Twenty-seven girls and counselors were still missing from Mystic Camp[i], a Christian camp along the banks of the Guadalupe Wash.

Our church’s 9–12-year-olds were away at our own junior camp when the news broke on July 4. The kids at the Mystic Camp were the same age as ours, and it was an all-girls camp—which somehow made it feel even worse, as they seemed even more vulnerable. My son was preaching at a camp in Utah with his family, which includes three precious little girls in the same age range as the missing campers in Texas. Parents and grandparents across our congregation felt an overwhelming sense of empathy for those enduring unimaginable pain.

We prayed for the campers, the counselors, their families, and the many others still missing during our opening prayer. We continued with our preplanned explanation that the goodness of God is sometimes like eating liver: not pleasant, but still good for us.  Yet the explanation felt insufficient for the emotional depth of the moment.

How is it that God is good when tragedies like this strike?

The question is as old as the Book of Job. And there are times when we must simply accept that He is good—by faith—when everything around us seems to be falling apart. This is what living by faith often looks like. We worship Him for His goodness through tears and pain.

The choir sang, and then we began singing the congregational hymns chosen weeks ago.

This old hymn was on the list:

In shady, green pastures, so rich and so sweet,
God leads His dear children along;
Where the water’s cool flow bathes the weary one’s feet,
God leads His dear children along.

Refrain:
Some through the waters, some through the flood,
Some through the fire, but all through the blood;
Some through great sorrow, but God gives a song,
In the night season and all the day long.

Sometimes on the mount where the sun shines so bright,
God leads His dear children along;
Sometimes in the valley, in darkest of night,
God leads His dear children along.

Though sorrows befall us and Satan oppose,
God leads His dear children along;
Through grace we can conquer, defeat all our foes,
God leads His dear children along.

Away from the mire and away from the clay,
God leads His dear children along;
Away up in glory, eternity’s day,
God leads His dear children along.

I began to weep, as did others in our congregation. All saw the connection to the events of the previous two days. This was not a pleasant worship service. It was not characterized by shouts of happiness or warm, fuzzy feelings. But it was real, genuine worship, nonetheless. Our minds were filled with the wonder of how the Divine One interacts with us in the most mysterious ways.

Words I had sung thousands of times before I now considered in a deeper way. God is leading His dear children, even through water, flood, and fire. He does not always lead us around these things—sometimes He leads us through them. Many Christian martyrs went through the fire and away up in glory, into eternity’s day.

True corporate worship is not entertainment. It is God’s people, as a group, meeting together in Spirit and in truth with the Holy One—and sometimes, it is painful. In worship, we lay our hearts before Him in faith, trusting His goodness even when we do not understand it.

Sometimes true worship is hard, and that’s okay.

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audio version of this post here: Sometimes, Worship Should Be Hard

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[i] I still do not know the denominational affiliation of the camp.