BY KIMBERLY LUSTE MARAN

he deep tones of the bass guitar reverberated through the sanctuary. Each strum was punctuated by a pulse of percussion as the drummer beat out the song's rhythm. More than half of the congregation had their hands raised toward the slanted wooden ceiling. The other half clapped in time with the music. All sang with passion and gusto about Jesus' love.

I was visiting what has been dubbed a "praise service." More accustomed to a service incorporating elements such as the solemn singing of the doxology, I nonetheless was enjoying myself. The people were friendly. They seemed sincerely glad to see one another and church guests--evidenced by their warm hugs and handshakes and big, bright smiles. The church was crammed with members of all ages and races. The energy surging around the packed pews was amazing. I could feel God's presence. We were making a joyful noise unto the Lord, and I truly felt showered by blessings.

But as the song service continued, the worship spirit shifted. With each stanza the singing seemed to shrink as the musical accompaniment grew louder. Then, instead of lyrics flashing on the big screen mounted above the baptismal, the words "musical interlude" appeared. The four choristers parted so the congregation could see the band. The musicians, with fevered verve, started to play so loudly I discreetly put my fingers to the sides of my head, under my hair, to cover my ears. This brings raising the roof to a new level, I thought as I was reminded of a friend's rock concert I had been to in college. As "drum solo" materialized on the screen the spirit of holiness totally evaporated. What filled its place was an excited party atmosphere with self-glorification prominent. I was not only disappointed; I was unnerved.

In 2000, at the University of California at Berkeley, I participated in another praise service. But this one was vastly different. Yes, the musicians jammed on their instruments as the sun set. Yes, the crowd stood as they sang, and clapped in time as words and music meshed. Yes, the young adults gathered in the student center were friendly, even joining hands during the emotive finale. But somehow, the line between worshipping God with energetic praise and exaltation--the opening of hearts to Jesus and the dawning comprehension of both the unworthiness of self and the awesomeness of salvation's gift--and self-promotional (somewhat mindless) cavorting was never crossed.

The spotlight remained on God and His amazing love. Instead of feeling cheated, I felt filled with awe, humbleness, and gratitude. The music was still fairly head-splitting, but as I was drawn into the fold, linking hands with others, I thought, Jesus is truly in this place. As a Pacific breeze gently blew through the tall veranda doors surrounding the ballroom on three sides, we shouted to the Lord, telling Him that there was none other like Him. Nothing could compare to Jesus and His mighty love.

I have often wondered what made the difference between these worships. Was it just my imagination? Or was one more appropriate, more Christ-centered?

Let me be clear. I'm not debating music and worship styles. I believe that hymns and praise music both have their places in our church. But I do wonder: How does one cross the line from true worship to something else? Can well-meaning worship change into that something else?

I think I've found part of the answer in (of all places) Deuteronomy 12. Moses, a messenger of God, is explaining to the Israelites that they must remember to follow God in their new land. He tells them: "You must not worship the Lord your God in their way. . . . You are not to do as we do here today, everyone as he sees fit, since you have not yet reached the resting place and the inheritance the Lord your God is giving you" (verses 4, 8, NIV). This is advice to be heeded today. When we do things as the world or as we see fit, we can easily fall into worship of something other than God. Prayerful, careful consideration of our actions and words--and the observance of God's commands--can help keep us on Jesus' side of the divide.

Regardless of what the song is--or how it's sung--we need to keep the focus on Jesus. Rather than crossing that line here on earth, I pray that we all stay close to Christ and cross our own modern-day Jordan River into eternity.