Avoiding Hypocrisy - and how it moved me to other problems

Jesus really rails against hypocrisy in the sermon on the Mount (and other places). He is driving at the point that our heart must be right when we do what we do (pray, give, etc.). I was taught this all my life (a good thing). One false idea that I associated with it (somehow - and I think it may relate to being a recovering legalist) was that really just enjoying something made it a bad motive. I thought that if I really enjoyed helping old people, for instance, that I would lose any reward in heaven because I loved it so much (honestly, I don't mind it, but it isn't my favorite past time). I've known this was a wrong idea in the last 13 years of my life or so, but it took a while to figure that out - and I still battle with it all the time. One very practical way this battle came up was in the area of leading worship. I love playing guitar - and practice can be a blast - and to lead people in worship is wonderful. But somehow I feared truly admitting this - because maybe then because I enjoyed it, the benefit would be lost. I'm sure this makes no sense to some, but others must get this. I didn't admit this truth about my love for leading worship until a couple years ago.

It was just today as Men's Bible Study that we were looking at Matthew 6 and some teaching on hypocrites that I put together where my erroneous thoughts on enjoying serving God came from (maybe not all of them came from being a recovering legalist - but certainly it's played a huge part).

Worship Wars: Hymns Verses Contemporary Worship

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A few years ago I received the following as an email forward. It put so much of the Worship Wars stuff into perspective. I only received the first half of it the first time - a few months later, someone had added the second half.

An old farmer went to the city one weekend and attended the big city church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was. "Well," said the farmer, "It was good. They did something different, however. They sang praise choruses instead of hymns." "Praise choruses," said his wife, "What are those?" "Oh, they're okay. They're sort of like hymns, only different," said the farmer.
"Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.
The farmer said, "Well it's like this ‑ If I were to say to you: `Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well that would be a hymn. If, on the other hand, I were to say to you:

Martha Martha, Martha, Oh, Martha, MARTHA, MARTHA,
the cows, the big cows, the brown cows, the black cows,
the white cows, the black and white cows,
the COWS, COWS, COWS are in the corn,
are in the corn, are in the corn, are in the corn,
the CORN, CORN, CORN,
then, if I were to repeat the whole thing two or three times, well that would be a praise chorus."

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As luck would have it, the exact same Sunday a young, new Christian from the city church attended the small town church. He came home and his wife asked him how it was. "Well," said the young man, "It was good. They did something different, however. They sang hymns instead of regular songs."
"Hymns," said his wife, "What are those?"
"Oh, they're okay. They're sort of like regular songs, only different," said the young man.
"Well, what's the difference?" asked his wife.
The young man said, "Well it's like this ‑ If I were to say to you, `Martha, the cows are in the corn,' well that would be a regular song. If, on the other hand, I were to say to you:

Oh Martha, dear Martha, hear Thou my cry
Inclinest thine ear to the words of my mouth.
Turn Thou Thy whole wondrous ear by and by
To the righteous, inimitable, glorious truth.

For the way of the animals who can explain
There in their heads is no shadow of sense,
Hearkenest they in God's sun or his rain
Unless from the mild, tempting corn they are fenced.

Yea those cows in glad bovine, rebellious delight,
Have broke free their shackles, their warm pens eschewed.
Then goaded by minions of darkness and night
They all my mild Chilliwack sweet corn have chewed.

So look to that bright shining day by and by,
Where all foul corruptions of earth are reborn.
Where no vicious animal makes my soul cry
And I no longer see those foul cows in the corn.

Then, if I were to do only verses one, three, and four and do a key change on the last verse, well that would be a hymn."