There’s a man in Mark 5 who had lost everything.

His mind. His dignity. His community. He was living among the tombs, so far gone that chains couldn’t hold him. By every reasonable measure, he was the last person you’d expect to model anything worth imitating.

And yet, the moment he sees Jesus stepping off a boat, he runs toward Him.

Falls on his knees.

And shouts at the top of his lungs:

“What do You want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?” (Mark 5:7)

Let that sit for a second.

A demonized man, stripped of everything, somehow had the instinct to run toward Jesus and ask the right question. I grew up in Africa. I’ve been in the room with someone who was demon-possessed. It took five grown men to hold one person down. This is not a metaphor. This was real. And even in that kind of darkness, there was a reach toward Jesus.

The result? He was clothed. In his right mind. And handed his first assignment: “Go home and tell your people how much the Lord has done for you.”

Salvation. Freedom. Wholeness. A new mission.

That’s what the right question, asked in the right posture, produces.

We’ve Shrunk Worship Down

Here’s what I want us to wrestle with: the man in the graveyard fell on his knees before Jesus. And often, we don’t. We who sing about Him. Lead others to Him. Serve His church every Sunday.

I’ve watched people get saved by the thousands in a single meeting in Africa. Miracles in real time. People out of wheelchairs. The difference wasn’t the music or the production. It was desperation. Not for miracles, but for Jesus. “These signs will accompany those who believe” (Mark 16:17).

What would it look like if we brought that same desperation into what we do every Sunday?

Because I think we’ve quietly, unintentionally shrunk worship down to something it was never meant to be.

The very first time worship appears in Scripture has nothing to do with music.

Genesis 22. God tells Abraham to take his son, the son he waited decades for, and sacrifice him on a mountain. Abraham tells his servants to wait, then says something remarkable: “The boy and I are going up to worship.”

Then he goes to offer his son.

One of the primary Greek words used in Scripture for worship means to bow down or prostrate oneself in reverence. It describes the posture we see throughout Scripture: a life lowered before God in surrender.

Worship is sacrifice.

Abraham heard God’s voice. He obeyed. That was the worship. And then? God provided the ram. Obedience produced provision.

The pattern runs all the way through Scripture:

  • Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, the night before the cross: “Not my will, but yours be done.” That is worship.
  • John the Baptist: “He must increase. I must decrease.” That is worship.
  • Mary, when God’s plan would cost her everything: “I am the Lord’s servant. May your word to me be fulfilled.” That is worship.

Worship is a posture of the heart that shapes every action of our lives. It’s the daily act of putting your own agenda to death and asking: “God, what do You want?”

Because what you do on Sunday is an overflow of what you’ve been doing all week.

Your Assignment Is Not Interchangeable

Every person who serves on a worship team, or in any ministry role, carries a Spirit-placed calling. You’re not a slot on a roster. You create the space where someone living in a graveyard of grief, addiction, or doubt can feel safe enough to run toward Jesus.

The sound engineer listening for the right mix. The vocalist who carries the room when the energy drops. The lighting tech who knows when to pull back. These aren’t technical details. They’re part of how space gets created for people to encounter God.

And here’s something I want you to hold onto: your assignment is also shaping you. Right now.

The flat rehearsals. The ordinary Sundays. The seasons when you wondered if any of it was making a difference. That’s your training ground. Don’t pull out of the place where God is forming you.

Hebrews 11:6 tells us God rewards those who diligently seek Him. But this is not a transaction. It’s a relationship. With Abraham, obedience produced provision. The ram came after the test. The reward wasn’t a platform or applause. The reward was proximity to God.

Three Things to Carry

Humility. Every morning, ask the question: What do You want with me, Jesus? Not what you want to accomplish. Not what you want to feel. What does He want?

Obedience. Walk in your assignment. Show up. Do the work. Abraham worshiped on the mountain because he obeyed. So do we.

Unity. Don’t just ask, “God, here I am.” Ask it together: “God, here we are.” Be the team that prays as hard as it rehearses.

When people encounter the presence of God in a community that is humble, obedient, and unified, they don’t just attend a gathering. They run toward Jesus. They fall on their knees. They ask the question.

And that is the harvest we were made for.

What do You want with me, Jesus?

Ask it today. Ask it tomorrow. Make it the question your life keeps returning to.

This content was originally shared at a worship team appreciation banquet. If it resonated with you, pass it along to someone in ministry who needs the reminder.