He made the necessary preparations. He quieted the continual angel chorus to a murmur so their praise would not drown out that of His children. He turned His ears from hearing the incessant words of the universe, those invoking his name in anger or in falsehood. The only sound now that would register on God's ears was the heart worship of his people.
The appointed hour was near. Settling Himself on His throne He watched as their cars converged in church parking lots and they streamed or, in some cases, straggled into His churches. Small white buildings, cathedrals, hundred year old brick structures, strip mall storefronts and massive auditoriums, ornate or simple, new or old they'd all been designated on this day to be where His redeemed would gather to honor Him. They settled themselves in their pews or their chairs and He was as anticipatory as one who was about to duck his head into a large bouquet of highly scented blooms.
The service began; hands flew over keys, piano, organ, keyboards and instrumental, guitars strummed and drums pounded, hymnals were held, screens flashed with lyrics, mouths opened and He listened… but He heard only the faintest chorus.
He leaned forward straining to hear, rubbing His eyes thinking He may have been mistaken of what He thought He'd seen but yes, there was plenty of action but the volume did not begin to represent the number of people who appeared to be praising. Then He saw people raising their hands. "Yes, I see you" He said, "Are you trying to get my attention because your heart is not saying anything to me."
God kept watching, kept waiting for His children, who worshipped Him individually throughout the week, to raise their hearts in a great chorus of worship for this is why they were to meet together: those had been His instructions. Had they forgotten?
Pondering and with little audible to hold his attention, He'd become distracted and saw now that they'd exited the sanctuaries and were greeting each other enthusiastically. He tuned into their chatter and heard His name mentioned often but still their hearts were silent. And now they were dispersing to their cars and headed into their every day lives.
Reluctantly He turned to the angel chorus and let their praise crescendo "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty" quickly came the refrain and it's intensity reverberated throughout the throne room, exactly as He'd expected the praise of His children gathered together on this day would have done.
"Well,” He sighed, “perhaps next Sunday."