Earlier this week, I finally finished Praise Habit: Finding God in Sunsets and Sushi by David Crowder of David Crowder*Band fame. It took me much longer to read than I’d hoped/anticipated, but it was worth the wait.

The book focuses on redefining how we think about praising God; instead of being an event, Crowder suggests that it should be a lifestyle. He spends much of the book using various Psalms as examples of how to develop a habit of praise in everyday life.

There was one paragraph in the book that really stood out to me as an example of how most people praise God:

Much of our energy as Christians-attempting-to-live-devoted-lives centers on the development of patterns or activities to strengthen or deepen our “spiritual” selves, things previously mentioned, such as corporate worship, or scholastic theological study, or quite times, or praying before meals. And we thank that if we pray before a meal, it will set this moment apart and other unbelieving peoples might observe our devoutness and we will make a statement that will surely cause them to stop in their tracks. Then leaving that brief holy event well behind, feeling our obligation to “otherness” consummated, we engross ourselves in the devouring of hamburgers and French fries. But it is in the moments that follow our prayers that we are able to follow the trail of our true affections, our hidden motivations. It is in the gluttonous idolatry or tearful gratefulness that we consume the burger. It is in our conversations over the meal–the valuing or devaluing of the ones with whom we find ourselves exchanging conversation It is found in the gratuity at the end of the meal. While somebody else is talking, I usually find myself busily plotting ways to divert the subject matter back to myself rather than lending heart and ear and thought to their discourse. (p. 41)

It’s a lengthy paragraph, but Crowder is spot on. How many times have I prayed before a meal because I thought I had to, and, thus, rushed through it so I could “check it off my list”? The fact that I repeat the same rote prayer and then dive into my meal shows that I, to use Crowder’s words, consume the burger in gluttonous idolatry. Shouldn’t I be eating it in tearful gratefulness? Sure, the tears sound a bit over the top, but isn’t that the more appropriate way to praise God for the good fortune of having something to eat?

I highly recommend this book to those who yearn to get out of the rut of praising God the same way every day of their lives.