Who is worship for? Colossians 3:16

In one verse, Col 3:16, worship is directed three ways. As we give thanks to God through a variety of music, we teach/remind and console/exhort one another in the truth who Chirst is and what he has done, becasue this truth has found its home in us. So worship is to God and for encouraging one another (and even guests who visit). Participation in worship for other's spiritual benefit lives out Christ's life in me. When it is no longer about me or which psalms, hymns or spiritual songs I want, but about sincerely exalting God and edifying one another, Christ's life, the glory of God, is all the more seen in me, and this is worship.

I shared a story from Skye Jethani, out of his book: The Divine Commodity, Discovering a faith Beyond Consumer Christianity; Zondervan 2009. Some folks asked me for it after the service, so her it is:

Years ago I was walking in New Delhi, India, with my father. We were hoping to catch a break in the traffic to cross the street when a boy approached us. He was probably six or seven years old, skinny as a rail, and naked but for tattered blue shorts. His legs were stiff and contorted, like a wire hanger twisted upon itself. He waddled on his hands and kneecaps, which were covered with huge calluses from the broken pavement. As I had many other times in India, I wanted to close my eyes and pretend people in such misery didn't exist. But this persistent boy wouldn't let me.
He shouted at us, "One rupee, please! One rupee!" The little guy was amazingly fast on his kneecaps, managing to stay ahead of us and in our field of vision. Finally, realizing he wasn't going to give up, my father stopped.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"One rupee, sir," the boy said while motioning his hand to his mouth and bowing his head in deference. My father laughed.
"How about I give you five rupees?" he said. The boy's submissive countenance suddenly became defiant. He retracted his hand and sneered at us. He thought my father was joking, having a laugh at his expense. After all, no one would willingly give five rupees. The boy started shuffling away mumbling curses under his breath.
My father reached into his pocket. Hearing the coins jingle, the boy stopped and looked back over his shoulder. My father was holding out a five rupee coin. He approached the stunned boy and placed the coin into his hand. The boy didn't move or say a word. He just stared at the coin. We passed him and proceeded to cross the street.
A moment later the shouting resumed except this time the boy was yelling, "Thank you! Thank you, sir! Bless you!" He raced after us once again—not for more money but to touch my father's feet. He blocked our way and alternated raising his hands with shouts of acclamation and bowing at my father's shoes. He was literally worshiping us.
This, I imagine, is how our God sees us—as miserable creatures in desperate need of his help. But rather than asking for what we truly need, rather than desiring what he is able and willing to give, we settle for lesser things. And when God graciously says "no" to our misled desires and instead offers us more, we reject him. We turn away, cursing him under our breath. We simply cannot imagine a God who would give five rupees when all we desire is one.
C.S. Lewis says: "Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that our Lord finds our desires, not too strong, but too weak. We are halfhearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased."
The dilemma posed by consumerism, including the Christian variety, is not the endless manufacturing of desires, but the temptation to settle for desires far below what we were created for. The forces of marketing have captured our imaginations and convinced us to desire mud pies and sneer at the possibility that even greater pleasures exist. We have been re-programmed to desire immediate satisfaction rather than infinite satisfaction. We do not desire too much, but too little.