We should ask ourselves: How do we see the Sunday gathering? Do we see it as an inspirational TED Talk with good music? Or do we see it the way the New Testament does, as God’s called-out people assembling for worship and mobilizing for mission? Music styles and preaching patterns will vary, but some elements should remain fixed. Paul instructed Timothy, as the pastor of the church at Ephesus, to “devote himself to the public reading of Scripture, to exhortation and teaching” (1 Tim. 4:13). He also instructed the same church to sing “psalms and hymns and spiritual songs” (Eph. 5:19). And our Lord Jesus entrusted to local churches the sacraments of baptism and the Lord’s Supper.
We should not be embarrassed by the Christian language and rhythms of the Sunday gathering. We should gather with the expressed goal to declare to the world, to ourselves and to the cosmic powers our worship of Christ as King.
2. Who’s writing the liturgy?
For some evangelicals, the word “liturgy” conjures up stuffy traditionalism at odds with genuine faith in Christ. But every church has a liturgy, a way of ordering their worship service. And every church’s liturgy communicates much about what it values.
This is another reason to be concerned about an approach that prioritizes the Sunday gathering for the unsaved person. In essence, this makes the unregenerate seeker the worship leader, tasked with writing the liturgy. Someone who hasn’t been redeemed by the Spirit of God is determining what practices and spiritual rhythms the body of Christ will embrace when they gather to worship.
Last year I attended a college football game in Nashville with some friends. I was invited by a colleague who is a school alum and unapologetic fan. It struck me, as I sat in his team’s section, that they didn’t really care how their particular rituals affected me, an outsider. They were simply proud of their team and wanted everyone, including me, to know it. This wasn’t offensive; it was attractive. What was it about their university that so motivated them to lose themselves in celebration at a football game?
The loyal fan base embraced me, but they didn’t allow me to determine their game-day liturgy. The band didn’t play music more amenable to my preferences. The cheeerleaders didn’t craft a generic routine I might understand. The fans didn’t wear generic clothing so I’d fit in.
The experience made me wonder: Why should our church services be any different? The seeker who enters the doors of our church should be welcomed, loved and served. We should labor to declare the gospel to him in language he understands. But sidelining the rhythms of Christian worship communicates embarrassment about what we claim matters most.
