Answering An Objection To Reformed Liturgy

Let me extend my apologies for the lack of blog posts. I am working much and in the process of moving and my time and energy is lacking. With that said we will pick up where we left off- the subject of worship.

For this I turn to Dr. Michael Horton:

Old Testament versus New Testament Worship? First, it is right to point out the break that occurred when the temple curtain was torn from top to bottom on Good Friday. As Jesus told the Samaritan woman, the time has come in Jesus, the true temple, when true worship is tied not to an earthly place but to the heavenly Zion. With Mount Sinai in mind, the writer to the Hebrews declares: For you have not come to the mountain that may be touched and that burned with fire, and to blackness and darkness and tempest, and the sound of a trumpet and the voice of words, so that those who heard it begged that the word should not be spoken to them anymore. . . . But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven, to God the Judge of all, to the spirits of just men made perfect, to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaks better things than that of Abel. 12: 18– 19, 22– 24 NKJV

In fact, the entire Book of Hebrews is aimed at Jewish Christians who were turning back to the shadows of the old covenant with its ceremonies and sacrifices, when the reality to which they pointed had arrived. On this basis, Reformed Christians have rejected liturgical approaches that seek to base Christian worship on the shadowy worship of the Jewish theocracy, especially imitating its ceremonial, sacrificial worship of the temple period.

At the same time, too much can be made of the difference between testaments in terms of an alleged contrast between formal and informal, heartfelt worship. To be sure, Jesus castigates the religious leaders of his day for being so obsessed with the outward form and show of holiness that they could not even recognize their inward depravity. But this was not a New Testament critique of Old Testament worship. In fact, it differs little from the sort of rebuke that God gives Israel and Judah through the prophets: “For I desire mercy and not sacrifice, and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings” (Hosea 6: 6). Furthermore, judging by first-century Jewish prayer books, Jesus did not regard formal liturgies as inherently stultifying to a personal relationship with his Father. In fact, he tells his disciples not to be like the hypocrites who stand on street corners praying long-winded prayers of many words, and then gives them his famous form: “In this manner, therefore, pray: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen” (Matt. 6: 9– 13 NKJV). Jesus not only did not abandon formal prayers but, as God in flesh, inaugurated one! Similarly, we read in Acts 2: 42 that the early believers gathered for preaching, sacrament, and “the prayers.” Although the definite article appears in the Greek text, it is often not included in English translations that have an anti-liturgical bias. Formal prayers were not viewed by our Savior as magical incantations but as disciplinary structures. Like a trellis, they taught wandering hearts to weave their prayers up to God in a manner that delighted him.

This is not meant to be an argument in favor of using only formal, written prayers but for structure in general. In conversations, my colleague D. G. Hart has compared liturgical structure to rules in baseball to which we gladly surrender our individual freedom and preferences in order to play a common game. Imagine what would happen if we all showed up at the baseball field and decided to do our own thing, enjoying the “baseball experience” in our own special way. There would, of course, be no game if that were the case.

Submitting to particular forms disciplines us not only as the congregation but also reins in pastors and worship leaders at whose mercy congregations too often find themselves. American sectarianism thrives on the unique charisma and personality of its leaders, and this is one of the reasons that worship forms always have to be changing, as a new entrepreneur comes on the scene. Slick services have slick preachers, and boring services have boring preachers. As I know from personal experience, the downside of having an active imagination is idolatry. The little thespian in me could easily construct experimental worship “experiences” for a living, but their very uniqueness and innovative cleverness would undoubtedly grow old fairly quickly, and there would be little similarity in worship over generations. More importantly, there is too much biblical history to remind us that God is pleased only with the simplicity of the worship he has prescribed.

Throughout centuries— in many cases, even millennia— God’s people have sought to chain their worship to Scripture itself. In fact, the Book of Common Prayer (1552)— gem of the English Reformation— consists largely of biblical quotations. Also in the Reformed tradition is the Dutch Liturgy, adopted at the beginning of the seventeenth century, the Book of Common Order (commonly called “John Knox’s Liturgy”), which is only slightly freer in style, and the Directory for the Public Worship of God, produced by the Westminster Assembly in the mid-seventeenth century. Luther’s service was an evangelical revision of the Mass, and Calvin produced a simplified yet structured liturgy, as well as the Form of Prayers, for public worship. What the Reformers and their heirs opposed was the imposition of a particular liturgy on the church as a necessary form for the true worship of God.

Despite a rich Protestant liturgical inheritance, our churches (regardless of where they are on the spectrum) seem to give too little attention to why we do what we do. In many cases, hours are spent (hopefully) in preparing a sermon, but the rest of the service may be haphazard and lack a clear sense of a movement from point A to point Z. We are familiar with services that begin with miscellaneous introductions and announcements. Next, the choir sings and perhaps provides background to special music of some sort, followed by a congregational song, an offering, more singing, a sermon, more singing or special music, and a much anticipated benediction. When churches are contemplating moving from this to something else, like a seeker service or a high church service, we cannot help but be somewhat sympathetic to the reasons for their reaction. A worship service should be interesting— we are meeting with God, after all!— and it will be interesting if ministers and their congregations are intentional about its development and meaning. But whether contemporary or traditional, worship will become a boring, purposeless routine if that is in fact what is unintentionally conveyed in its preparation.

If worship is to be Christ-centered, then, we will not move beyond the types and shadows of God’s commands in the Old Testament to our own types and shadows that lead us not to Christ but to our own creatively conceived images and “worship experiences.” But while God has commanded us to gather together on the Lord’s Day, he has not commanded us to meet at 10: 00. Church services will vary in entirely appropriate ways; some things are necessary while other things depend on circumstances of time and place. The former we ordinarily call an element (i.e., it is necessary), while the latter is a circumstance (i.e., it is up to the church’s discretion). Taking an offering is an element, while how it is taken is a circumstance.

Horton, Michael (2003-05-01). Better Way, A (pp. 145-148). Baker Book Group. Kindle Edition.