Tag: Liturgy

Our liturgy should be quite the jealous-making provocation to the Jews. The “riches for the world” aren’t limited to worship services, and without a verse that requires a particular order of praise we recognize some flexibility in worship practices. But think about how our focus on Jesus fulfills their sacrificial system (as Yahweh intended).

Israel had the sin offering. An animal was killed, its blood shed and thrown on the altar to cover sin. “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness of sins” (Hebrews 9:22). And and what’s more, “He has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people, since he did this once for all when he offered up himself” (Hebrews 7:27).

They had the burnt offering. An animal was killed, its parts arranged on the altar, and the fire consumed all of it. The entirety of the animal represented the entire consecration of the worshipper. Jesus is our righteousness and sanctification (1 Corinthians 1:30).

They had the peace offering. An animal was killed, its parts arranged on the altar over fire, but it was cooked not consumed, and the roasted meat shared in fellowship as a symbol of the peace between parties.

Jesus is all the offerings! His blood covers our sins, we are justified. In Him we are set apart, sanctified for His service. Through Him we come to the Father, we share fellowship, and remember His death around the Lord’s Table. These are represented and celebrated in our service with: Confession – Consecration – Communion.

We confess that Jesus is Lord, the Lamb slain and the Lion of the tribe of Judah.

One day we will know without a doubt what God’s favorite part of our worship is. One day we will worship Him face to face (1 Corinthians 13:12; 1 John 3:2), and some of the things we do now in these mortal bodies by faith will no longer be necessary. Perhaps that gives us an angle to evaluate our current liturgy, the means and the end.

In the resurrection a call to worship will be as unnecessary as the sun is to define the day (Revelation 22:5). Not only will the cycle of eternal life be different, but the divisions and distractions of our purpose will be removed.

In the resurrection we will be glorified, we will be finally conformed to the image of Christ, and so there will be no new sins to confess. We will not forget that we’ve been forgiven, but neither individually or corporately will we need Him to wash our feet (cf. John 13:10).

In the resurrection we will know the Word, and preachers will be given some other occupation. The Word is eternal, but we will not need teachers in eternity (consider Jeremiah 31:34). We will have The Teacher, but even then, celebrating truth will be different than sermonizing it.

And in the resurrection we will be in our eternal rest (Hebrews 4:9-10), not that we won’t have employment, but there will be no more charge for the battle even if there is more to build.

So, what we look forward to is unhindered, undiluted, undistracted communion with God. It is why He sent His Son, that Christ would bring us to God (1 Peter 3:18). This fellowship is what we remember and rejoice in during the Lord’s Supper in our weekly liturgy. The work of Christ is for our communion with God, and all our work comes from that communion. Our time together around the Table is just a taste of how good He is.

I’ve read some things recently about recovering rituals, especially in the liturgy of Christian worship. One resource in particular argues for the importance of liturgy due to its power to effect us pre-cognitively (which is not my preferred nomenclature). The idea is that some things we do repeatedly get into our guts, and that supposedly has greater stickiness than hearing or meditating on a sentence.

As a church we have tasted the goodness of some things we don’t always, or perhaps can’t perfectly, define. But there’s no reason that mind and body can’t work in harmony. There’s no reason that contemplation and conduct have to compete.

Even at the Lord’s Table, we partake weekly, corporately, and bodily. But we are not just going through the motions, chewing our bread mindlessly. We come and share and we know what we’re doing.

There is history (the name of Jesus, the night He was betrayed, His blood and His death), there is theology (atonement “for you,” “new covenant” with you), there is mission (proclaim His death until He comes). There is gratitude, there is faith, there is obedience.

So Jesus said Do this in remembrance of me (Luke 22:19; 1 Corinthians 11:24). Do, as in eat and drink, which is more than mental exercise. It is liturgy, it is embodied, it is embedded in our practice. 


There is ritual in it, but the ritual is to remember, not a substitute for remembering. We remember the Son of God, we remember the sacrifice of the Son for our sins and God’s wrath against us satisfied, we remember the exchange of His righteousness to our account, we remember His love.

“In this is love, not that we have loved God but that He loved us and sent His Son to be the propitiation for our sins. Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another” (1 John 4:10-11).

The difference between being a fruitful Christian and a frustrated Christian is how well you can translate liturgy into lifestyle.

The order of our service applies beyond Sunday. God does something when we assemble before Him, and part of what He’s doing is reminding and equipping us for when we go out from the assembly.

God calls us to worship Him. When does that call end? It doesn’t even end when we confess our sins; that is part of our worship. When you rise up, when you walk around, when you hammer the nail, when you enter the data, when you pack the lunch, God calls you to worship.

We confess our sins because He is faithful. If we say we don’t have sin, we make Him a liar. Confession happens for the church corporately only once a week, but confession and forgiveness for each Christian is a constant all week.

God is conforming us to the image of His beloved Son by His Word, as our minds are renewed. This is sanctification, consecration. But this isn’t only a sermon work. This is the Spirit’s work through the Word as we meditate on it day and night, Sunday and the other Sixdays.

When we leave we are given a good word, a benediction. We’re reminded of what grace we have and what grace is promised to fulfill our calling.

And as now, we commune with God. Christ Himself instituted the Supper. We eat and drink as a picture of our reliance on Him, but it is not merely symbolic, and it is not a single event. Communion is how we bear fruit. Communion is how we laugh. Communion with God through Christ is our life, not just a piece of our liturgy.

Since I’m a pastor and since I am responsible for much of the Lord’s Day liturgy at our assembly’s worship, I’m often asked what our Sunday morning service looks like. When I get to the part about having weekly communion, the follow-up question is typically, “Doesn’t that make it not special after a while?”

There are short answers, which is what I usually give (don’t be too surprised). I often say, “Not yet by God’s grace.” Still, we understand where the question comes from, and yet it is surprising that Christians are so fearful.

The truism we believe is that familiarity breeds contempt. It’s catchy, and we can see how that could be used as a diagnostic to explain why we have contempt for something. Now that I think about it, I’d much rather blame “familiarity” than something in my own heart. Yet (my/your) ignorance also empowers contempt, as do (my/your) pride and (my/your) envy.

I was meditating on the assumed power in the verb: familiarity breeds. Breeding doesn’t happen by proxy, there are no breeders emeritus, you cannot sign up for distance breeding. Husbands become fathers through familiarity with their wives. Why don’t Christians ask if marital familiarity is dangerous? Maybe Christians are too spiritual to ask it out loud, maybe some do think it. But familiarity is powerful to produce fruit.

In the Bible, familiarity with God breeds panic and praise, weeping and worship, dread and joy. As it turns out, familiarity isn’t the problem, we are the problem. Dinner with the family every night could become monotonous if mom despised the work and dad despised the interruption and the kids despised being despised. But when there is familiarity with sacrificial love and intention, contempt doesn’t have a place at the table.

The Lord’s Supper doesn’t stay special because of it’s scarcity, but by our increasing in the knowledge of God that grows our affections for and gratitude to Him.