Can I Get An “Amen”?

The church in many places is taking its cue from the entertainment world when it comes to how a congregation responds to truth during worship. If we like something, we applaud. The preacher makes a good point and we applaud. The musicians sing an exciting piece. We applaud. The biblical “Amen!” seems to have lost its place.

No congregation should be faulted for wanting to make some sort of response in a service of worship. Worship in many places needs more of that. But applause is known in virtually every other context as affirmation for performance. Thus, the question: is applause during worship our best choice to affirm what is happening?

Not that there isn’t any place for applause in church. For example, when a member is celebrating her 100th birthday or another member has been chosen as valedictorian of her class, applause may be the right response. It’s acknowledging the achievements of God’s people. It’s rejoicing in community.

But, applause seems to have nudged out the Biblical response that is sprinkled liberally across the Scriptures – the word, Amen! The difference is this: Applause is a way of saying “We like that,” or “You did a good job.” It’s used as a measure of performance, and one isn’t required to put the weight of one’s character behind applause. “Amen,” on the other hand, is a way of saying, “That’s the truth.” That word expresses commitment. The difference is subtle but real.

The Hebrew meaning of the word is “surely,” from a root which means “to be firm, steady, trustworthy.” The Greek word has the same sounds as the Hebrew and this is why in more literal translations the word is often rendered “Verily” or “truly.”

The Book of Psalms, the hymnbook of the ancient church, is divided into five books, perhaps to parallel the Pentateuch — the first five books of the Bible. Each division, except book four, ends with “Amen and Amen.” Book four ends, “Let all the people say, “Amen!” (Ps. 106:48) The Amen is the congregation’s special word for responding to and affirming God’s truth.

When Nehemiah charged wrongdoers to return to the poor a portion of the money they had exacted from them, “The whole assembly said, ‘Amen’ and praised the Lord.” (Neh. 5:13). Again, the word carries the weight of truth, fidelity, the pledge of obedience.

David presented to Asaph a psalm for worship, ending with the words, “Praise to the Lord, the God of Israel, from everlasting to everlasting. Then all the people said ‘Amen’ and ‘Praise the Lord.’” (1 Chron. 16:36) This use became common in synagogue worship and passed into the practice of the early church.

Paul writes that in Christ God’s promises are authoritative. “No matter how many promises God has made, they are ‘yes’ in Christ. And so through him the ‘Amen’ is spoken by us to the glory of God” (2 Cor. 1:20). When a congregation says “Amen” they are saying yes to God’s truth and thus glorifying God.

Amen is a good word, sprinkled throughout the Scriptures! It is a robust word. It is congregation-friendly, to be spoken with conviction when the Scriptures are read or at the close of a pastoral prayer, or when a benediction is pronounced over a dispersing congregation. The word can echo warmth and confidence. It is a God-directed word and shouldn’t be surrendered without much thought to a less biblical way of responding to God’s truth revealed in Christ.

When a prayer ends with the Amen of the congregation, we are saying “That is my prayer too,” or “I own that as the truth,” That seems to me more potent than applause that says, “I like that,” or “Nice going.”

A Song I Used to Sing

In my teens and into my twenties I wanted to be a gospel singer. I studied voice at the Toronto Conservatory with that in mind, and I was busy as a singer, song leader and youth speaker visiting churches in Ontario and down into the United States. During that time I often sang a solo that has come back to me 65 years later during this holy season leading up to Resurrection Sunday, April 8. I share the words with you:

Jesus is standing in Pilate’s Hall,
Friendless, forsaken, betrayed by all;
Harken! What meaneth the sudden call:
What will you do with Jesus?

Refrain

What will you do with Jesus?
Neutral you cannot be;
Some day your heart will be asking,
“What will he do with me?”

Jesus is standing on trial still,
You can be false to him if you will,
You can be faithful through good or ill:
What will you do with Jesus?

Refrain

Will you evade him as Pilate tried?
Or will you choose him whate’er betide?
Vainly you struggle from him to hide:
What will you do with Jesus?

Refrain

Will you like Peter your Lord deny?
Or will you scorn from his foes to fly,
Daring for Jesus to live or die?
What will you do with Jesus?

Refrain

“Jesus, I give you my heart today!
Jesus, I’ll follow you all the way,
Gladly obeying you!” will you say:
This will I do with Jesus.

During the days leading up to the celebration of Our Lord’s death and resurrection – the price he paid to free us from our sins and give us eternal life – it is good to reflect personally on this question set in verse.

Singing Silently

We do a lot of singing at our house but often it’s not out loud.

Early in the morning when the house is still and we are quietly preparing ourselves for the day I may ask Kathleen or she may ask me, “What’s your song?”

I can’t remember a time when each of us did not have an answer. Usually it’s a hymn or gospel song. After all, didn’t the Apostle Paul exhort: “Sing and make melody in your heart to the Lord”? (Ephesians 3:19). That’s silent singing.

The practice works anywhere. This morning, while it was still dark I was out on my 30-minute walk. All the way, in my mind I sang that great Charles Wesley hymn, “Arise my soul, arise,/ Shake off thy guilty fears./ The bleeding sacrifice,/ in my behalf appears./ Before the throne my surety stands,/ My name is written on his hands.”

I was singing silently, but more; I was feasting on the meaning of the words, and being awakened to joy! “Those biblical words, arranged in lyrical cadences, are the kind to awaken all of us when we get a bit spiritually drowsy. Such silent singing can bring back to us the wonder of our faith.

Charles Wesley knew about the guilty fears he wrestled with as he approached his moment of saving faith on May 21, 1738. In that moment he had come alive to the truth that one’s hope for eternal salvation is not ever in oneself or one’s rituals. It is in Calvary – “the bleeding sacrifice on our behalf appears.”

Singing the gospel is not a new thing with Kathleen and me. When we were married and for several years thereafter we sang duets together. Her voice is still sweet and mellow 64 years later but my singing voice has lost its edge. Even so, I can still sing inside my head as I do much of the time.

We were both brought up in churches that had no instrumental accompaniment. In one sense this was an asset. The congregation I grew up in loved to sing and the singing was robust, in four parts. The Baptist minister in our Saskatchewan town told us that he loved to come to our church once a year in a pulpit exchange just to hear our congregation sing.

And back then, singing was even incorporated into our family prayers. In our home, the family ritual was: after the evening meal, read a chapter from the Bible, sing one of several hymns we knew by heart, kneel down together in the kitchen to pray and end by saying the Lord’s Prayer together. No wonder we both have tunes in our heads much of the time.

The reason we carry on this exercise of silent singing nearly all the time at our house is not that we live a “blue sky” existence. As with all other believers, there are clouds — disappointments to face, heartaches to heal and moral perplexities in life to resolve. We know a devil still rages against God’s people.

But we are kept on tune by hope – the Christian’s anchor point.

“Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is” (1 John 3:2).

That promise is enough to make a believer sing at least silently – whether in a crowded bus, on the way to work, or in a high school chemistry lab, or while hoeing potatoes, or waiting for worship to begin. Silent singing can be a hope-renewing exercise anywhere.

Susanna, the Worship Leader

Susanna Wesley and her husband, Samuel, apparently had a durable marriage in terms of covenant (“Till death us do part”). And she gave full recognition to his authority as her husband by her conscious practice of submission. But they appeared to often see the issues of everyday life differently and her perspective was sometimes wiser than his.

They were both from Puritan stock and held religious views firmly. And since it was an era when truth was so highly valued that it was often deemed worth fighting for and in some cases even dying for, this led to moments of pronounced disagreement between them.

On one occasion, Samuel prayed at family prayers for William III (William of Orange) as the rightful British sovereign.  Susanna believed he was a usurper or pretender and that James II was the rightful king. So she did not say “Amen” to her husband’s prayer for William III. He noticed this and asked about it. She explained her reason and held firmly to it.

So he said, “You and I must part; for if we have two Kings, we must have two beds.” This was not a threat of divorce or even legal separation, but rather a threat of physical separation which it appeared would put actual miles between them.

With that, he left for London — a trip that  may already have been in the offing — where he was to be a proctor (steward or officer) during Convocation of the Church of England. The care of the Epworth and Wroote parishes was left in the hands of Samuel’s curate (assistant).

It is not clear how long Samuel was away. It could have been anywhere from six months to a year. However, when William of Orange died and the crown passed to Queen Anne, the legitimate ruler, there was no longer an issue and he returned.

During Samuel’s absence, attendance at church had dropped off and Susanna saw the need for a Sunday afternoon service of worship in the parsonage for the family and a few associates. To provide this for her children she chose portions from the Book of Common Prayer and each week selected an Anglican sermon which she read.

Community people came in increasing numbers until attendance exceeded the number in church for regular services. It is estimated that more than 200 packed the parsonage and many more were turned away for lack of space.

Because this was her husband’s assigned parish and she should not be holding services there without his permission she felt duty bound to report to him in detail by letter concerning what she was doing. His response was that it was not appropriate for a woman to read the sermon and she should choose a man for this assignment. To this she replied that there was no man in the parish who could read without spelling out most of what he attempted and she asked, “How would that edify the rest?”

She closed with these words: “If you do, after all, think fit to dissolve this assembly, do not tell me that you desire me to do it, for that will not satisfy my conscience. But send me your positive command in such full and express terms as may absolve me from all guilt and punishment for neglecting this opportunity of doing good, when you and I shall appear before the great and awful tribunal of our Lord Jesus Christ.”  With that, she heard no more of it and the meetings continued until his return.

Susanna Wesley was obviously a woman of strong conviction who attended to her conscience meticulously, so she did what she knew to be right for the children and parishioners: they must be provided ample opportunity to worship the Lord. At the same time, she did what she also knew to be right regarding church law and her marriage: it is clear that they both were commitments she intended to respect and keep. All this is careful insight for today’s sometimes muddled thinking on personal religious and ethical issues.

The Little White Church on Third Street – Part 3

(Not the actual church.)

(Third in a series of reflections on the church of my boyhood)

The congregation that gathered in the little white church on Third Street in Estevan in the 1930s loved to sing. My mother had a rich contralto voice and my father a pleasant, light tenor. Elsewhere in the congregation one could pick up additional voices, sopranos carrying the tune and two or three men booming out the bass.

At one period in my childhood, once a year our minister exchanged pulpits with the Baptist preacher in town. I remember his saying to our congregation that he loved to preach at the Free Methodist church just so he could hear the people sing.

From 1910 forward there was the little black hymn book without musical notes. Later during my childhood a book with notes was added called the Worship In Song – a good collection of gospel songs. The hymn book was used for morning worship and the gospel song book was for less formal Sunday evening services.

Much simpler choruses were reserved for Sunday School. Their lyrics were generally not as good as today’s more Bible-based words, although some of the earlier choruses have been shown to have staying power. There was “Deep and Wide,” and “Wide, Wide as the Ocean” which many can still hum.

Then there was the more novel action chorus: “Dig them up, get them gone/ all the little rabbits in the fields of corn;/ envy, jealousy, malice, pride,/ and all the other sins that in my heart abide.”

There was neither organ nor piano, even though Ruth Holmgren was an excellent pianist and had her piano teacher’s certificate, from the Toronto Conservatory. There were no guitars or brass instruments or drum sets. No choirs. No public address system or microphones. Our singing was a cappella, and it was always hearty.

The absence of what was sometimes referred to humorously as “the wooden brother” (the piano), and choirs, traced back to historical realities at the time the Free Methodist Church came into being as a denomination at the mid-1800s. Choirs, the leaders saw, had become centers of pride, conflict, and formality in the mother body. The founding fathers said the new body would do better without such distractions in worship. That may have been extreme but necessary at the time.

The minister simply announced a hymn, someone “raised the tune” and the congregation was off, singing their hearts out to the glory of God. This congregation of the Prairies was made up of business people, housewives, auto mechanics, and farmers. One member, Pete Holmgren, was the mayor of Estevan for a period. His son, Cliff, was the volunteer driver of the larger of two fire trucks.

If there was “special music” a quartet might go forward, stand behind the pulpit, hum a note and sing. On occasion there was a second or even third start because the pitch wasn’t right or the lead singer had momentarily strayed from the tune, but the false start, except for a moment’s embarrassment, did not seem to be a lasting concern for anyone. And those numbers were usually excellent. It was all a part of the emphasis on simplicity in worship.

It was in this environment that I developed a strong sense of pitch and learned early to sing all four parts by reading the notes in the Worship In Song. I can still close my eyes, and hear my home congregation singing with verve in all parts that more complex gospel song, “Wonderful Grace of Jesus.” How the men loved to boom out the moving line in the chorus!

On a few occasions, my younger sister, Eunice, and I were put forward to sing together, usually in Sunday School. I was about eight and she five. She had a sweet, true soprano voice and I could sing an alto by ear. This was unusual enough that the congregation approved heartily. At that time, there were no commercial cassettes or CDs or DVDs to be measured against, and no high-fidelity public address systems to enhance the sound. We were appreciated as home grown talent.

The lack of musical instruments in the little white church on Third Street seemed only to enhance love for music. I grew up with a passion to become a gospel singer as a vocation (later revised to becoming a minister with musical ministries on the side). And my sister became a piano teacher and mothered a musically well-trained family of four.

I cherish this simple but earnest heritage. At the same time, I can see that it would not meet my current needs or those of my extended family. That heritage was for those times, those people, and that place. Life moves on and so does church culture.

I only pray that whatever the future changes in public worship, one thing will not be lost: the keen and uncomplicated sense I absorbed on the prairies of Saskatchewan, that “The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” As I see it, that’s what every aspect of public worship should be about – from the opening greetings to the offertory to the number before the sermon and the closing prayer.

To e-mail this post to a friend click here.

Finding the Balance in Worship – Part 4 of 4

Continued from part 3

CHARISMATIC WORSHIP

Reference to charismatic worship may bring up images of the Pentecostal movement which appeared at the beginning of the twentieth century in California, and by the end of the century had become a Christian force to be reckoned with around the world. Charismatic worship places strong emphasis on the Holy Spirit and the special gifts he bestows upon God’s redeemed people. Whether such worship originates in a Roman Catholic, Pentecostal, or other evangelical setting, it is usually highly energized, open to spontaneity, and presented as being receptive to the direct leadership of the Spirit.

“Charismata” means grace gifts. The word is found in such references as Rom 12:6 and 1 Cor 12:4,9,28,30-31. Charismata have been defined as “favors, endowments, graces, offices, all bestowed by God’s grace without claims of merit whatsoever on man’s part.” In its twentieth century expression, charismatic worship often promotes the gift of tongues as the only sign that a believer has been baptized in the Spirit. But this does not stand up to careful scriptural examination, and not all charismatic worship includes this emphasis. Viewed more broadly, charismatic worship tends to be lively, and often intentionally emotional. In its most radical expression, emphasis is on the more sensational gifts of the Spirit — power gifts like healing and miracles.

The evangelical church everywhere has been touched in some measure by the trend toward charismatic worship. To some, it makes the quieter, ordered worship of earlier generations seem pale and unattractive. Modern Christians who are bombarded regularly by the sensate, and who daily are treated to radio and TV programming that is almost assaultive, are bound to be susceptible to a greater emphasis on religious practices that are more emotionally charged .

Indeed, charismatic worship has support from the New Testament. The picture of the New Testament church from its earliest days is that of a community under the direction of the Spirit. The Acts of the Apostles introduces us to the outpouring of the Spirit that created the Christian church. The earliest Christians worshiped in informal and spontaneous settings. Romans 12 and 1 Cor. 12-14 give us a picture of an emphasis on the “giftedness” of the early church.

But these are not the only pictures of worship modes we have from the New Testament. Peter and John went up to the temple to pray. The prayers they prayed in community would be liturgically prescribed. Jesus attended synagogue worship from childhood onward where the major emphasis was upon the reading and explaining of the Scriptures, and the offering of prayers. In his missionary journeys, the Apostle Paul went first to the ordered life in the synagogues to present his message.

Charismatic worship needs the balance of both Word-centered and liturgical worship. Lacking these, certain perils turn up. For example, worship may become too dependent on charismatic personalities for its direction. Or ”worship leaders” may degenerate to being merely “promoters of strong feelings,” a vastly different assignment. The event then comes to be regulated more by the skills and verve of the leader than by the Spirit of God. Charismatic worship may get too caught up in sensation and end up downplaying the Scriptures as preached and taught. It is sometimes charged that practices of charismatic excesses may develop devotees that are very religious but not always well formed in Christian knowledge and character.

FINDING THE BALANCE

When one mode of worship is emphasized to the near exclusion of the other two, biblical balance is bound to be lacking. Word-centered worship can lead to a cold orthodoxy, expounding the truth with care but lacking the warmth of the Spirit of God. Liturgical worship can become esthetically pleasing but also devoid of the transforming life of the Spirit. It may perhaps depend too much on its props. Charismatic worship can be emotion-packed while bereft of the character-forming influence of the Scriptures carefully expounded and energized. Yet all three must be embraced because they give balance to one another.

In a worship-balanced church, all three modes will in some measure be present. Real corporate worship must show from the outset that pastor and people are operating under the authority of the Word of God. That is word-centered. And, because many believers of varying tastes and inclinations are together in one service, an order must be established by the leaders to bring all together. That’s liturgical. And, the blessing and presence of the Holy Spirit must be expected and welcomed. That is charismatic. One thing is sure: churches that give central attention to the preached word, that establish a wholesome order for worship, and that actively invite the superintendency of the Spirit in it all are most likely to approximate Christ’s true church. Such churches will avoid dead ends, find the balance, and survive the worship confusion of present times.

Finding the Balance in Worship – Part 3 of 4

Continued from part 2

LITURGICAL WORSHIP

Then there is liturgical worship. This word may raise suspicions, calling up images of elaborate vestments, candles, incense, and written prayers. Those who react in this way say under their breath, “From all these, Dear Lord, deliver us.” But clarification can help.

Liturgy does not mean merely ornate ceremonies with their candles and incense, bells and genuflections, such as one might find in the Eastern Orthodox rites. Instead, think of liturgy as planned worship. It may include worship folders to outline the progression of the service, and signal how the congregation is to participate. Or, it may include other ordered elements — saying the Lord’s Prayer in unison, singing together the Doxology. For weddings, it involves hearing the wedding ritual, or it may include attending to the words of consecration for the Lord’s Supper. Liturgy is unavoidable. Whether the number of the congregation is 50 or 500, a set way of doing things tends to take shape, for better or for worse. That is its liturgy.

So, we need not brush the term lightly aside. First, it comes from “leitourgia,” a gold-plated word with an honorable place in the Scriptures. For example, in the Greek-based Septuagint it is used to describe the “services” of priests and Levites in the temple (Nu 8:22,25; 18:4; 2 Chron 8:14). In the New Testament, it also describes temple services (Lk 1:23; Heb 9:21), but as well the word refers to Christian worship (Acts 13:2). To say it simply, liturgy is the service the people offer their God.

This very word, service, is common in all traditions. We have worship services, prayer services, song services, baptismal services, communion services, etc. The word, service, comes from the language of liturgy. In all acts of true worship fundamentally we offer service to God. For example, a soloist does not sing first to the congregation. She offers her song first as an act of worship to God. The people affirm with the biblical, Amen. She is not an entertainer to be applauded, she is a worship leader whose message is to be affirmed.

Consider the apostolic church. It modeled its worship on Jewish patterns of temple and synagogue, and practiced worship liturgically — that is, in ordered ways by praise, prayer, Scripture reading, exposition, and the Lord’s Supper (1 Tim 3:16; 4:13). Immediately following apostolic times, a first Book of Discipline for the young church, the “Didache,” was basically a manual of church practices — liturgy. We also find this word in the writings of the church fathers after the first century, expressing the whole service of God.

Admittedly, liturgy can become a substitute for genuine worship of the heart. Worshipers may be moved by the beauty and grandeur of an esthetically pleasant service and confuse this sensation with true spirituality. They are not the same. To go away from church merely feeling “better” is not the same as leaving worship feeling lifted up, cleansed and renewed by the Spirit of God.

Nevertheless, liturgy has its value. Consider: it puts a holy restraint on worship leaders, cuts down on verbosity and other distractions, keeps triteness at bay, and provides actions or words that convey truth to God’s people in inspired, established ways. Wise use of simple liturgy makes way for God himself to break in upon the spiritual awareness of his worshiping people — bringing a sense of awe and wonder. It is this sense of awe and wonder that is too often lacking in modern worship.

Finding the Balance in Worship – Part 2 of 4

Continued from part 1

WORD-CENTERED WORSHIP

Some Christian bodies characterize their worship as “word-centered.” I frequently worship with a congregation that is word-centered in a conservative, evangelical way. Two things stand out to me in service after service. First, Scripture references inform every part of the worship hour. They sound forth from the songs sung either by congregation or choir, they shape the prayers, and they richly season the sermons. Across a lifetime of ministry the pastor has stocked his memory with the Scriptures and hymns of the church until they shape a whole service.

But, secondly, I note the attentiveness with which the sermons are received. On a Sunday morning there are 500 or so in service. The congregation seems remarkably alert and engaged. I’ve had the opportunity to observe while the sermon is being delivered. There is a dynamic quietness as we listen, broken by moments of laughter. It’s as though the whole body is knit together with this common conviction that the Bible is the foremost authority to the people of God and when its truth is being delivered it is to be received with great respect. Whatever the layout, services like this are Word – centered.

All this is consistent with the example of Methodism’s founder, John Wesley. His printed sermons left with us are richly scriptural. But, even more distantly, this emphasis reflects a light that shines from the Reformation of the Sixteenth Century. Among the most significant features of that God-blessed movement were its rediscovery of the authority of the Bible and the Bible’s power to renew worship. Imagine Martin Luther in his cloister, quill in hand, working painstakingly to translate the Bible into German, sentence by sentence, so the common people could hear it in their own language. Or recall William Tyndale, hiding from place to place in Europe to translate the Scriptures into English for his fellow countrymen, and eventually paying for his diligence by death at the stake in Holland.

There are other historical pictures that we dare not let fade from the Christian memory: John Knox and other Reformation greats preaching from the Bible with vigor and clarity; or Bibles chained at several locations in St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, while illiterate people crowded around to hear its timeless passages read; or the early Presbyterians of Scotland waiting for the sexton to carry the big Bible to the pulpit, signaling that worship could now begin; or John Wesley mounting his portable pulpit in the out of doors, and preaching from a selected text to a sometimes roistering but soon subdued crowd. To the present, wherever the traces of the Reformation are evident, the Christian Scriptures are given a central place in worship.

We should not be surprised at my wife’s sense of shock when she attended an “evangelical” service at which the Scriptures were hardly mentioned until two-thirds of the way through the pastor’s seeker sensitive talk. That was not Evangelical. It was not Protestant. It was not Biblical. It was some sort of folk religion that had seeped into that church.

To be sure, word-centered worship can have its perils. Once, while in Colorado, I searched out a church within walking distance from my motel. For the church I found, the setting could
not have been finer — well coiffed shrubs, immaculate lawns, a modern and splendid sanctuary, a pastor in robes, a special reading desk for the Bible. But there was no sense of joyful community, and I left the meeting feeling as alone and unnourished as when I arrived. Word-centered leaders may assume that to explain some portion of the Bible is enough. It can thus become merely the practice of cold orthodoxy, a duty carried out faithfully but without the warmth of God’s quickening Spirit. In true worship, Word and Spirit are intended to enhance one another.

Nevertheless, in Christian worship the emphasis on the authority of the Scriptures is fundamental. When a service of worship opens with a few verses from the Bible, an authority is established under which the whole event is to be carried out. When later, portions are read from both Testaments as a separate act of worship, this declares the worshiping body’s confidence in the Scriptures as both revealed in history and illuminated by the Spirit now. When everything about the service builds toward the preaching of the Word, the way is prepared for the Spirit to give understanding. Word-centered worship can be transforming.

Conversely, where the centrality of the word of God is neglected, the words of man may be counted on to multiply and, however cheery, leave a void unfilled. Spirited worship is not the same as spiritual worship. Worship that does not give the word of God a central place does tend to lean toward folk religion. Just as a lack of calcium over a long period of time weakens the bones, so a lack of anointed Biblical content in worship leaves Christian worshipers eventually spiritually weak and even deformed.

Finding the Balance in Worship – Part 1 of 4

(For several decades I have led and pondered Christian worship. My observation is that leaders must make a serious effort to understand the practice in some depth or they will tend to lead only in accordance with their own tastes. These tastes might have been shaped by childhood church experiences, or mere personal inclinations, or even by practices gathered from the entertainment world. What follows in four parts is not offered as a final or comprehensive word on this critical subject. But it may be used to prompt worship leaders to seek deeper understanding and balance for the serious task of leading God’s people in worship)

During a brief stay in the Midwest my host took me to a Sunday morning service in a large, conservative, evangelical church where worship is conducted in traditional ways. I knew that this church has grown remarkably in the past decade through a variety of creative ministries and now exceeds 2000 in attendance. But, as we were leaving the service, my host confided, “There are many refugees in this church.” Later, he explained that some “refugees” were there because they had fled churches where bitter debates over musical tastes had divided a congregation; some were from churches where a leader had imposed new styles of worship without consulting or seeking support from the members; and some had come from bodies where worship styles seemed to have been taken over by the entertainment world.

Were these flights merely the results of the rigidities and anxieties of an aging generation? Or were they concerns that should be given greater attention?

I have visited many evangelical churches in recent years and my observation is that some are handling the revolutionary worship impulses so as to keep a congregation moving forward together — though with some strain. But in others it appears that the robust and sustaining Christian faith has been watered down to something like a folk religion where the major objective seems to be to make everyone feel “comfortable.” Certainly, worship practices will vary from place to place. One generation will never duplicate in every respect the worship practices of another, but if God does not change and human nature remains constant then there must be some fundamental ways in which the worship of God does not change from age to age.

So, where can we turn for a broader perspective on what’s going on? I propose that historically, Christian worship has tended to fall into one or more of three categories: word-centered, liturgical, or charismatic. Each type has its place and its perils. Blended appropriately, each deserves respect.

“Let Us Worship God” — But How? Part 5 of 5

(Continued from Part 4)

When we get to the matter of sacrifice in worship we are getting to the heart of the matter so far as what the worshiper contributes. It is a very helpful exercise to put every part of what goes on in the activity of worship to this test.

All Worship Involves Sacrifice

Sacrifice is the fourth substantial element in Christian worship. In fact, worship is summed up in sacrifice. In any era or place, when people have awakened to the divine, the resulting sense of holy awe fills them with an impulse to give something to the unseen Presence. All religions have in common something equivalent to an altar.

How does the element of sacrifice permeate Christian worship? There is the sacrifice of praise in hymns and spiritual songs. The offering up of tithes and offerings has in it an element of sacrifice — which explains why it should be a dignified act of worship, not a mere interlude to “take up a collection.”

(When a soloist sings, her song must first be seen as an act of sacrifice to God, offered up as worship. It can be argued that the proper response, therefore, is not a round of applause for a job well done; it is a fervent mental and/or audible “Amen” as agreement with the truthfulness of the song. If we say that applause is the new way of saying “Amen” then applause should follow every part of worship, not just musical offerings. For example, a good pastoral prayer should be followed with a good hand. It seems to me that applause following only musical renditions of one sort or another is given in imitation of the entertainment world and the practice should be questioned.)

In worship, the gaze is primarily upward, and only then inward and others-ward. And “Amen” — meaning truly or verily — is a distinctive Christian word which belongs to the congregation (1 Cor. 14:16).

Above all, the sermon given at the high point in worship is preeminently offered to God as an act of sacrifice. The Reformation in the Sixteenth Century came about through the rediscovery of the Sacred Scriptures as a living message and the consequent renewal of preaching. The Methodist Movement of the Eighteenth Century was a preaching movement out of which grew a community of transformed men and women and an overflow of social ministries. To the serious congregation of the present, the preaching of God’s word must be the crown jewel in the setting of Spirit-inspired congregational worship.

As Martin Luther summarized it, “When I declare the Word of God, I offer sacrifice; when thou hearest the word of God with all thy heart, thou dost offer sacrifice. When we pray, and when we give in charity to our neighbor, we offer sacrifice. So too, when I receive this sacrament, I offer sacrifice — that is to say, I accomplish the will and service of God, I confess him, and I give Him thanks. This is not a sacrifice for sin, but a sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise.”

What May Change And What May Not

How a congregation adapts true worship practices to its own setting may legitimately vary depending on a variety of things: What is the culture of the people? Are they dominantly blue collar or white collar? Is the community rural or urban? Is it a congregation of 50 or 500? What is the mean age? What sort of architecture frames the sanctuary? And what is the temperamental leaning of the pastor in these things? All such matters factor into how a congregation worships.

But none of these variables should obscure the fact that in all cases, worship that is truly Christian has one ESSENCE: from beginning to end it is reverence and joy in the presence of the God who is thrice holy – Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. And, as well, it has a common SUBSTANCE, manifested in its rituals, symbols, sacraments and sacrifice.

In fact, here is a good test any congregation might apply: If a young man should come to worship this next Sunday how would he be affected by the experience? Would it be dull, predictable, lacking in spirit? Or rousing but short on reverence and holy awe? Or would it be so sincere, so unpretentious, so Spirit-directed, that he would be lifted into the Presence, sensing the majesty and glory of God? And might the experience be so telling that he would remember it more than half a century later? It’s a good test for modern worship.