Walk through the church doors and take a seat in the old blue pews. There is a crayon scribble on the wood in front of you. Don't let it distract you.
The piano begins to play, but don't sing this time. Bow your head and calm your soul. This is what beginnings are meant for. Let God call you to a place of worship as the pastor walks to the front and this body of worshippers stands.
“You are worthy, Almighty Father,” he says, “to receive glory and honor and power.”
The body responds: “For you have created all things, and by Your will they have their being.”
This time, sing the hymn that follows.
And now, kneel on the ground and bow your head again. The man up front has begun to pray and now it is silent. It is time to lay your sins before God and bring them to this communal confession.
As you stand to your feet once more, the pastor says you are cleansed and have been forgiven. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow,” becomes a hymn around you.
Someone walks to the front and reads Scripture: Old Testament, Gospel, and part of an epistle.
Then the body stands: “We believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; and in Jesus Christ, His only Son our Lord…” (from The Apostle’s Creed). The words resound from the people, most speaking from memory.
A man walks up the aisle with a little basket that looks like it has been used for the same thing for too long. He prays and offers it to God: these are our offerings. They are humble.
The basket is set beside the bread and wine and two people walk to the front. They pray, first our thanksgivings and second our petitions.
The pastor walks up once more and prays—for himself, for you and for his words. Then he gives a sermon. Look for whatever it is God meant for you to hear. It’s there, I promise, though on some days you must look harder than on other days.
The word is proclaimed and the body sings together again. The bread is brought forward.
A prayer and then the pastor holds the loaf of bread in his hands and breaks it: “The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread,and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body, which is for you; do this in remembrance of me” (I Cor. 11: 23b-24).
The bread is given to the baptized and those who claim the name of Jesus eat the bread together.
Then the same is done with the wine: “In the same way, after supper he took the cup, saying, ‘This cup is the new covenant in my blood; do this, whenever you drink it, in remembrance of me.’For whenever you eat this bread and drink this cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (I Cor. 11:25-26).
You stand again and sing the “Doxology,” your hands raised to the sky, offering all you have – that is, nothing – to the heavens.
The pastor gives a benediction and sends the body out into the world: “Now may the Lord of peace Himself give you peace always in every way. The Lord be with you all” (II Thess. 3:16).
You walk out of the building again knowing that the same thing will happen next week and the week after, but it is a habit, a routine of the soul and the body.
…
This habit which you have entered with me is known as “liturgy.” Many people have no idea what that means. It is a forgotten grace.
So, before going any further, I should let you know that not every liturgical service is the same. It isn’t always a pastor who walks up to give the sermon. Communion is sometimes handed out and sometimes given by a priest or an elder at the front of the room. But no matter how it is done, liturgy is always meant to be a habit and routine of the communal body of the church and it is almost always meant to become a habit of the soul.
Our liturgy is built on a set routine: call to worship, confession, consecration, communion and commission. God summons his people, cleanses them, transforms them, feeds them and then sends them out into the world. I am not here to convince you to love it. People are wary of it for plenty of reasons. But we all have liturgies, some of us are just more intentional about them than others.
The pattern built into the Sabbath is meant not only to create a routine but also to link the habits of the body to the habits of the soul: when you kneel with the communal body of Christ, your physical body kneels and your soul should have the same posture. Liturgy connects the body of Christ in a regular worship of God which requires mind, body, and soul.
Unfortunately, most people who attend church leave this routine in the building. They go their separate ways and forget that worship is meant for all of life, not just Sundays. God requires us to use our body and our soul to worship Him, not just our inward spiritual life: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength” (Deut. 6:5).
Praying before meals is a type of liturgy. Kneeling in prayer before bed is a liturgy. Holding hands is a liturgy. Even the stories we read are filled with this type of structure. Nearly every story begins with a call and every story involves confession, transformation, communion in some form and ends with a benediction.
Liturgy is a beautiful thing especially when this routine begins to translate to our everyday lives. Authors have begun to write books on the practice and even specific prayers for daily activities. Liturgy is a strange thing but it is a way of creating the habits of the body and soul which are so necessary to faith and to life. I recommend it to you, friend, and I encourage you to explore it more deeply.
