When I was in high school, I lived in Florida and was part of a small church there. It was a humble sanctuary, nothing terribly ornate, but it was clean and nice. Our pianist played Sweet Hour of Prayer many times during congregational prayer. It wasn’t distracting, but instead was softly played on the higher octaves keys and complimented the pastor’s voice as he led the congregation in prayer.
Yesterday I sat in church and listened to the same song played on a piano in the higher octaves. It is a different church, a different pianist, even a different arrangement of the song. But, the moment I heard it, I was taken back to the Florida church. Then, it struck me that they were worshipping the same time we were, being on central time. Maybe they were even singing Sweet Hour of Prayer right at that moment.
What a wonderful thing it is when we realize that the worship of God is occurring around the world. Not just in a wave of Sunday services across time zones, but in moments of praise and worship as we delight in the God who delights in his creation. The hour of prayer, the time we spend praying, is sweet. Especially when we are in the midst of that time with others.