On Praise

Psalm 150 (ESV)

Praise the LORD!

Praise God in his sanctuary;

    praise him in his mighty heavens!

Praise him for his mighty deeds;

    praise him according to his excellent greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound;

    praise him with lute and harp!

Praise him with tambourine and dance;

    praise him with strings and pipe!

Praise him with sounding cymbals;

    praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD!

Praise the LORD!

I was falling behind in line on the way to gym because I was looking at the ground. The carpet used to be a camel color with mysterious hints of purple and grey and made a satisfying scuff under my big sister’s old sneakers—which finally fit me. I began to pick up my pace before the teacher called me out for straggling. Rounding the corner, I caught Mr. Sherman coming toward us. He moved slowly and walked with a cane, but with twice the joy of our whole procession on the way to recess. Mr. Sherman was a crowd favorite for many reasons, but one in particular renders him unforgettable:

“What’s the good news?” he would say. We were ready, inhaling for our reply from the moment we saw him hobbling down the hall. It was a call and response more consistent than snack time. Every time we saw him, Mr. Shermon would greet us with the same question: “What’s the good news?”

And so tumbled forth a chorus brandished by 30 or so eager five-year-olds, spanning the whole hall and at last permitted to yell, shouting sloppily and earnestly, “PRAISE THE LORD!!!” Our corporate speaking was terrible. Between those of us who jumped the gun and began too soon and a few boys who would goofily drag out the words, it took us about 30 full seconds to make our proclamation:

“Pprai—-PRRAAAAAAAIIISSSEEEEEE–aiiissee–th—THEEEEE—–Lor–LOORRRDD–ooOORD!!!!!”

Praise the Lord.

At first glance, it seems like the question is misunderstood. “What’s the good news?” calls for an account and is met with a command, “Praise the Lord.” It’s a little odd in my opinion. But I think what’s going on is that to praise the Lord is more than an action. Mr. Sherman would ask us what the good news was, and we would testify to something—out of the mouths of babies and infants an unexpected sort of evidence would surge forth: Praise.

When Christians talk about “The Good News,” we’re talking about the Gospel. An interesting thing about the Gospel is that it’s as much for people who have heard it a thousand times as for people who have never heard it explained even once. So, what’s the good news? It’s the message that God is perfect, holy, and just and while we might consider ourselves to be good people by most standards, when judged against God’s standards we are revealed as sinners. God is good; we are not. He is pure; we aren’t. He is just; we are unjust. He alone is worthy of our praise; we praise the wrong things. We are all a single heartbeat away from standing before God, facing His just judgement, and being found guilty beyond all doubt. We’re not exhaustively evil, but no part of us is completely pure.

But we have one, unwavering hope—Jesus Christ, the Son of God, took on flesh and became a man and lived a perfect life for us. He came to a world that denied and betrayed Him and He declared to the world that HE was the Son of God, and everyone who believes in Him will be saved. Jesus never worshipped the wrong thing, treated others unfairly, or lied. Jesus never sinned. In His early thirties He allowed Himself to be betrayed by a close friend, let Himself be taken captive by the government, and willingly suffered an unjust, horrific and violent death of crucifixion. In dying, He took on the wrath of God and the crushing weight of every sin ever committed.

Think about that—every wrong thing you’ve ever done, no matter how bad, laid on His shoulders.

Jesus died and was buried in a sealed and guarded tomb. After three days, Jesus came back from the dead, having conquered death. When two women came to visit the tomb where He was buried, it was empty. An angel told them that Jesus had risen from the grave and they would see Him—and they did. Jesus was seen by them, and over 500 witnesses before He ascended into heaven. Finally, Jesus will return and establish His eternal kingdom where His people will dwell with Him forever.

The good news is that Jesus’ life and His work on the cross are sufficient for our salvation. Jesus endured the wrath of God in our place and everyone who has faith in Him and hopes in Him for salvation will receive the reward that Jesus earned: reconciliation with God and eternal life with Him. That’s it. Christians have a sure hope and a secure reward that is entirely Jesus’s doing and not theirs. I wonder if the Gospel seems outlandish to you. Personally, I’ve had a few seasons of life where I found myself feeling like this was just a bit of a tall order to believe. It’s not just miraculous in every aspect, it’s old. This isn’t a hope from last week, this is a hope from over 2,000 years ago. It’s outrageous.

I always find this little pebble in the shoe of my incredulous heart: what about worship? What could possibly compel Christians to worship if the Gospel didn’t work? Why would all these people, despite all the hard things they face personally and all the evil they see in the world, when their hope is put so severely to the test, why are all these people still found with hallelujahs on their hearts, working heartily as unto the Lord, hoping in Him, and running with endurance?

You might think Christians just love the sound of their own singing, but I counter you with this: many of us sound terrible. Worship is no mere choir practice. I know so many Christians that would sink through the floor before singing in front of others, but on Sunday morning, after a long and wearisome week, there they are singing loudly. What’s going on?

It’s not as if it’s a club or a cultural ritual of sorts that elicits praise—we all know how many people call themselves Christians, knowing all the cultural ins and outs of the Church while never knowing Christ. But for believers in the Gospel, when they tell you about their lives, there’s an inextricable proof of something older than any cultural or social construct. They’ve gone back to the very first, most fundamental, most fitting thing to do: Praising the Lord. It’s not just singing—it’s a way of singing, and dancing, and so much more. Christ has done all for them, and all that’s left for them to do is praise Him. And what’s more, many of them won’t even take credit. Their endurance, they will tell you, is all the Lord’s work in them. They will confess that it’s all the grace of God.

But it gets even more outrageous: for some of them, praise is extremely difficult, and they do it anyway. Their heart is not just some music box that bubbles up with cheerful melodies of thanksgiving—not at all. I see Christians seeking God on the way to chemotherapy. Hoping in God through unemployment. Turning to God in loneliness. Meditating on His kindness even in their weariness. How are they still praising God? They sing, “The dead’s alive and the lost is found, Glory, Hallelujah,” and “Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,” and “Underneath thy deepest sorrow are the everlasting arms,” and “Afflicted saint, to Christ draw near, your Savior’s gracious promise hear, His faithful word you can believe, that as your days your strength shall be” and “Jesus loves me, this I know,” and “Praise the name of the Lord our God, ” and “Holy, Holy, Holy.”

That praise—that strange habit of Christians that has endured for thousands of years—is proof of something. It proves the gospel like flowering cherry blossoms prove its spring, and chords of music coming from a piano prove that it’s in tune. Praise is established in our hearts by God as He works in our lives. It is, frankly, miraculous.

And finally, amid all the transient cares of this world, praise will persist.

Mr. Sherman passed away when I was in middle school and everyone immediately felt his absence. Students and teachers began to carry on his question as a comfort. For myself, and many of my peers, our response suddenly came from a firmer conviction. What had before felt like a mere greeting, we realized was an eternally true liturgy. “What’s the good news?” elicited a promise of and a practice for the courts of heaven, where our beloved bible teacher is blameless before God because Jesus was judged in his place. The gleam that Mr. Sherman always had in his eyes when he asked us about the good news was a small glimpse of eternal joy, now his forever. How can we respond to the mercy and grace of our Redeemer?

How much has He done for us? How much is He doing, even still? What’s the good news?