And right there ready to take advantage of this discontent was Satan. I could feel myself sliding out of a mood of worship and into my own little pity party because I could be at home watching The Scottish Open on TV.
But I caught myself. Before the fourth song began (of which I was somewhat familiar), the Holy Spirit did get ahold of me, and reminded me that my worship was not the result or responsibility of those in charge of the service, but of the posture of my heart.
I quickly adjusted my heart’s position, zeroed in on the song’s lyrics and focused on the sermon. And guess what? My mind was taught; my spirit filled; and I was blessed.
The morning’s scorecard? Holy Spirit—1. Satan—0.