[Another old bulletin article… I’ll get back to fresh writing soon…]

I’m not really into poetry. I’m often frustrated by my lack of culture, my lack of appreciation of many of the “finer things.” I don’t particularly care for opera, nor ballet nor classical music. And I don’t read poetry.

When we had to read poetry in school, it was the rare poet who really appealed to me. One that did, however, was Robert Burns. And one of his poems that stands out in my mind is one called “To A Louse,” with the subtitle “On Seeing One on a Lady’s Bonnet at Church.” The poem addresses a louse which is crawling around on the head of a young lady. The real point of the poem, however, is the vanity of the young lady. She, noticing the looks and pointing directed her way, vainly thinks they are admiring her and begins to toss her hair. The last stanza, in modern English (Burns wrote in Scottish), says:

O would some Power the gift to give us
To see ourselves as others see us!
It would from many a blunder free us,
And foolish notion:
What airs in dress and gait would leave us,
And even devotion!

It’s a brilliant thought, and I could certainly do worse than write an article on this idea. Yet my thoughts are turned a different direction. I’m wondering how many of us would play the part of Mr. Burns in that church service, focusing our attention on the young lady in front of us and the people all around us, rather than focusing on the worship we profess to perform. How many times have we come away thinking about Jenny (the name of the girl in the poem) and her louse, rather than our Lord and His sacrifice.

I remember numerous times in Sunday School when, following a prayer, one of the children would announce: “Mrs. Davis, Bradley didn’t have his eyes closed.” This would lead to the inevitable question of course: “How do you know?” It never seemed to dawn on us children that spying on one another during the prayer was worse than not closing your eyes! (And, of course, you couldn’t close your eyes and still spy, so you were guilty of the same offense as the accused).

It’s easy to laugh at such things in children. It’s much harder to laugh at them in adults. In fact, it makes me want to cry from frustration at times.
“He raised his hands!”
“She tapped her foot!”
“He didn’t sing!”
“She sang too loud!”
and the list goes on and on.

It makes me want to reply: “How do you know?” Before you answer, let me help you with the answer: you know because you weren’t focused on God. “Well, she distracted me.” Is that her problem or yours? If you are truly focused, you don’t get distracted that easily.

I can see it in myself. There are many times when I can’t even tell you what the person next to me was doing during the service. Those are the times I was focused on God. There are other times when I’m watching the passing of the communion trays, when I’m seeing if Brother So-and-So is here, when I’m worried about the sound or the air conditioning, and I realize that God does not have my full attention.

Not to criticize Mr. Burns, but I wonder just how concentrated he was in his worship to notice the louse, to follow its movements for several minutes, to notice the reactions of those around him, to watch Jenny toss her hair, etc. If I were in his place at that moment, I would take a moment and apologize to God for my disrespect to him.
Maybe we could rewrite the poem a bit:

O would some Power the gift to give us
To see ourselves, not those around us!

Nothing good is said in the Bible of those who critically observe the worship of others (think Michal and David!). Much good is said of those who strive to worship God in Spirit and in truth.

Don’t let the lice distract you. Fix your eyes on things above. Concentrate on your worship. Because, in the final day, whose worship is God going to ask you about: yours or those around you? Will He praise us for having spotted the errors in those around us or rebuke us for neglecting Him while spying on our brothers? I’d rather not find out.