This chapter’s review will only be one post.  It’ll be shorter, and there are hardly any Green Flags.

Barna and Viola have orderly worship down to a science (they think).  Here’s their conclusion about most all “Protestant”* worship:  “The order of worship… includes a three-fold structure: (1) singing, (2) the sermon, and (3) closing prayer or song.”  My, how sad and lame that order sounds; thankfully, that’s not my experience, at all!

What I have experienced in at least the past 10 years of worship (first in a non-denom church in the Reformed tradition called Holy Trinity, and later in the churches of the Anglican Mission in the Americas is what Robert Webber calls the historical “four-fold pattern” of the worshiping church.  That pattern is something I have modeled all worship experiences after (strangely, even before I knew it existed!), dating as far back as 1992!  That pattern is simple, and it has emerged in virtually every worship tradition, from high-church Anglo-Catholic-Orthodox to informal Pentecostal or Baptist traditions (I daresay, even the simplicity of a Quaker service echoes this pattern.

Enough preamble; here it is: Gathering together in God’s presence (this involves songs of procession and praise, and often prayers for forgiveness and words of invocation); the service of the Word (involving the reading of scripture, the teaching, and a response to the message, which can include the Creeds or a time of meditation); the time of Eucharist, or thanksgiving – a chance to respond to the goodness of God, primarily (but not always) through the celebrating of the Gospel in Holy Communion (also, a time for prayer and singing); and a Sending out into the world, in which a benediction is proclaimed and songs of mission and purpose are sung triumphantly – and we are sent out to love and serve Christ with gladness and singleness of heart!

Think about your church worship pattern.  Is it merely song-sermon-song/prayer?  Is it really that pedestrian?  Or – regardless of your tradition – is there something more?  Isn’t there something just… amazing… about entering a time set aside each week to be with the larger body of Christ, to be ushered into His presence (in a special way, not one that diminishes, but augments, our other times with Christ)?  Shouldn’t we love Christ and the wonder of His majesty enough to prepare our hearts, to prepare our thoughts, to prepare our voices?

Now, I’ve been to the churches that have – in some well-meaning attempt to “reach” people – tried to remove the historic four-fold pattern of worship (one that at least goes back to the second century).  The song-sermon-prayer thing sometimes does happen, and it is sad.  But that is not because of some inherent failure or “paganness” of formal worship; it’s because certain churches want to do in the formal gathering what was meant for the living room.  Those churches miss out on the mystery and majesty of God – as much as a church that refuses to acknowledge God’s majesty in the first place.

Two more things: 1) They give a very weak and non-detailed argument that the Catholic/Orthodox liturgies (from which all our worship – in one way or another – is descended) are taken from “pagan” forms.  This troubled me, until it occurred to me that, that may be just what the Holy Spirit had in mind.  In their bold and insightful work, Colossians Remixed, Brian Walsh and Sylvia Keesmaat explain that many, many terms and titles attributed to Christ by Paul in the letter to the Colossians were terms originally used to describe the Caesars!  They argue that he meant that as a direct assault on the “genius of Caesar” while at the same time giving Christ the glory due His Name.  Does the origin of these terms cheapen or dilute the power of the words?  Not in any way!  In a similar way, we (and Viola and Barna, no doubt) use things our culture can relate to (we co-opt the titles of the Caesars of our day) to allow people in our culture to better grasp and understand the good news of Jesus (coffeeshop ministries come to mind).  I imagine that the use of “pagan” forms in Christian worship had a similar noble (and biblical) purpose.  If those patterns had then faded with their usefulness, I’d say, great; but they haven’t.  Something tells me they have a purpose when something like the Doxology or the Creeds or the Prayers of the People unite millions around the world every Sunday.

2) Viola and Barna argue – toward the end of the chapter – that organized, patterned worship in a formal setting makes Christians into passive recipients.  While I disagree that it necessarily does this (I’ve never felt more vibrant than when participating in responsive readings at a very traditional Episcopal church near Seabrook Island, SC), I would also suggest that active participation is not always biblical.  “Be still, and know that I am God.”  That’s what much formal worship does calls me to.  And it sounds like God sometimes wants us to just… receive.

I’ve been reading Girl Meets God by Lauren Winner. She’s a convert from Judaism to Christianity, and a real brain. But, to boot, in this extremely open and honest memoir, she’s really got her heart on her sleeve. She shares about her journey through Orthodox Judaism to the Christian faith (in the Episcopal tradition), her failures and regrets along the way, her continual stumblings as she walks and grows, her struggles and even a few triumphs.

I’d recommend this book to everyone on planet earth.

Now, while, by my (extremely slow) standards, I have been racing through this book, I find that I have never, after several tries, been able to make it through a John Piper book. “Why?” I ask myself.

I’ve decided that theology comes best when it’s personal. Girl Meets God is jammed full with the theological and philosophical. In the midst of the threads of story-lines from Lauren’s slightly tragic/slightly joyous life, you find her teaching – teaching about how one converts to Judaism, teaching about the theology of the Resurrection, teaching about the sacraments of Communion and Confession, teaching about how Ruth relates to the Jew and the Christian and how the Jewish festival of Pentecost relates to the Christian celebration of the same name on the same day in history. It’s a theologically and historically rich little book.

But when I read Piper, I feel that – where Lauren Winner has sat me down to show me this cool thing she learned about God or religion – Piper comes to me, whips out his entire collection of Calvin’s writings, and slaps me in the face with them, saying, “I’m sorry; I’m doing this because I love you.” He’s heavy-handed, and harsh and sorely lacking in nuance.

Why am I writing this? What’s it got to do with worship? Plenty, I think.

I call both Piper and Winner my siblings in Christ. I think they both have truth to tell, and probably are doing it well in their own special way. I’ve heard Piper, and I think he’s a mighty fine preacher-man, and a godly defender of the Faith.

I think I am not so much commenting on Piper or Winner, on Girl Meets God or What Jesus Demands from the World (even the title gives me a headache). I am commenting on me. On my growth, my evolution, as a believer in Christ.

I think we go through stages as we grow. Our spiritual body hungers for different types of nutrients as we grow. Sometimes it is heavy theological stuff (though, for me, I think I’ll probably go in more for Robert Webber or Dallas Willard than for Piper when my spiritual body does crave good solid heaping platefuls of theology) and sometimes it’s story – even if the story has a deeply theological current running through it. We need different things for our growth (as little kids need more milk, and so do our grannies, than we thirtysomethings) and so God gives our soul different cravings.

As I grow – and grow heavily more Anglican, more liturgical, more early-church obsessed and ecumenical (in an early-church, pre-schism sort of way), I find that what I desire is story, and long times of prayer (guided by the prayer book), and relationship, both with Christ and His Bride.

So, when it’s time for me to pick up the tomes again, when grad school finally calls, I’m sure my body, heavily nourished with story and liturgy and all those good, good things, will begin to crave other things.

But I’m probably gonna be ready to duck when Piper tries to smack me again; and I’ll sit him down so he can tell me a story.

The late Robert Webber, a professor at Wheaton College and a man passionate about biblical worship, wrote that all of our worship – what we think about worship, say about worship, and do in or as worship, flows from our definition of worship.

Is worship just teaching? Is it a few “preliminaries” (as Webber calls them) that lead to a great, 45 minute sermon?

Is worship primarily evangelism? Is it all designed to get us to the invitation?

Is worship primarily praising God through song?

Is worship primarily (dare I say it?) entertainment?

Or is it, as he says, “all this and more”?

I welcome comments on this topic. What is your definition of worship? I haven’t finished the chapter yet, so I will report back in when I have pondered this a bit more.