Worship Worthy of the Name
TIMOTHY KELLER
7 min read ⭑
Dan Wakefield, a writer who moved to New York in the 1950s, was originally from Indiana. When he arrived in New York, he overturned his Baptist roots and became a bohemian. In one of his books, he describes how he wanted nothing to do with the values of middle America. He completely rid himself of religion.
Now, however, he’s aging, ostensibly needing spiritual meaning, and attends a liturgical church. Why? Probably because to him this church feels safe, it’s connected with history, it doesn’t feel like a fly-by-night operation, and it is more satisfying aesthetically than the alternatives.
Historic liturgy often appeals to a certain kind of person. It opens doors to the heart that the art of pop culture — drums and guitars — can’t. Personally, I like both “high” liturgy and pop culture in worship. Each form of art opens different doors into my soul. But each form must have at its core true worship. It all begins with this question: What is true worship?
Nahid Hatami; Unsplash
Instinct Run Amok
At our deepest level, we were created for worship. But this instinct has gone awry.
Jonathan Edwards spoke of religious affections, that core of our being that orients our mind, will and emotions toward an object. Sin has caused our affections to stray, propelling us to worship relationships, achievement, work — everything but God. Alfred Adler would say we gravitate toward control or power or comfort or approval. We obsess about those things, comfort ourselves with them, fantasize about them. Biblically speaking, those things are idols. Worship serves to pull our affections away from our idols and transfer them to God.
The word worship comes from an Old English word meaning “worth-ship.” I define worship as an act that has two parts: seeing what God is worth and giving him what he’s worth. Every approach to worship must include these two elements.
Worship is treasuring God. Job says, “I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread” (Job 23:12). When I treasure something, I look at it longingly, in the store window for example, and think about how great it would be to own it. I ponder its virtues, talk to my friends about how great it is. Then I go out and buy it.
Harnessed Worship
The difference between private and public worship is that in public worship, individuals are in concert with others. In a team of six horses, each horse is affected by the speed and direction of the other five. The same is true of corporate worship: individuals are worshiping God in harness.
If the minister is talking about the holiness of God, for example, I’m seeing God’s holiness in concert with the congregation. Together, God’s people are in harness, letting the worship leader guide them so they can respond to God by giving him what he is worth. Scripture readings, exhortations and sermons show people what God is worth. The offering, prayers of repentance and thanksgiving, and times of confession allow people to respond to God.
In order for us to worship, our mind, will and emotions have to be moved. They’re all organically connected. Merely learning a truth about God is intellectual education, not worship. For example, I can know intellectually that God is good but still be worried about something that’s coming up this week. If the morning’s sermon is on the sovereignty and goodness of God, I haven’t worshiped unless that truth descends from my mind and touches my emotions and my will.
I worship, then, when I realize that I’ve been trusting in my own abilities, not in the sovereignty and goodness of God. I will be touched emotionally when I pull my affections off the other things I’ve been trusting in (which is why I’m anxious) and focus them on God. I may cry; I may not. It depends on my personality. But the truth will affect my emotions. My will is also affected when I decide to change the way I handle that temptation next week.
Worship is grasping a truth about God and then letting that truth strike us in the center of our being. It thrills us, comforts us. That’s when the truth has moved from the left brain to the right brain — from mind to heart. On the spot, worship will change the way we feel and will affect the whole brain, the whole person.
Mistaken Emotions
Not everything we feel on Sunday morning can be labeled true worship. Several emotions can be mistaken for true worship.
Nostalgia. Some people are moved to tears by listening to “The Old Rugged Cross” and others by “The Wind beneath My Wings.” But those feelings are not necessarily worship. They could be merely a sentimental connection — the song evokes a warm memory. This is one reason people will say, “I can’t worship if I don’t sit in my pew,” or “I can’t worship because the furniture has been rearranged,” or “I can’t worship if I don’t know the hymns.” That’s nostalgia, a fond sentiment that people often need because everything else in life is changing. But a feeling of nostalgia isn’t worship, and there is no resulting impact on one’s whole life.
Conscience clearing. Some people feel guilty because they haven’t gone to church for a while, or they haven’t been praying, or whatever. So they feel better when they’re in church, singing a hymn and putting something in the offering plate. Their consciences are cleared. Perhaps feeling a clear conscience is better than the nostalgic feeling, but it’s still not worship.
Aesthetic experiences. Other people may have only an aesthetic experience, which is still not worship. Even people hostile to the gospel can weep while listening to Handel’s Messiah. C. S. Lewis said that his imagination was baptized when he was still an atheist because of excellent Christian art. Our emotions become a legitimate part of worship when, in response to a truth about God, we give something back to God: our money, our sin, our praise. Again, the three elements must be affected: mind, will, emotion.
“To God there’s not much difference between the classically trained soloist and Brother Joe’s nephew.”
In reference to worship, though, I’d rather use the word moved than the word emotion. If we don’t find that our affections have been moved away from earthly idols toward God, we haven’t worshiped. Our affections are more than just our emotions. Some of us, myself included, are not emotionally expressive. However, if I leave Sunday morning having had no emotional connection whatsoever, I haven’t worshiped. I must allow my heart to be touched to worship.
Baptized Art
In recent years, churches have emphasized excellence in worship, especially in seeking to reach non-Christians. In general, churches that focus on excellence tend to attract more non-Christians.
Non-Christians are attracted to the art of a tight-sounding worship band or string quartet. They are not, in general, attracted to the special music of Brother Joe’s seventh-grade nephew, who gets up and plays “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” on his clarinet. That music is meaningful for the members of Brother Joe’s church, who know and love the nephew and who know and love the truth. But those who don’t already have the relationship are only made uncomfortable by the lack of excellence.
Aesthetics help to move our understanding from the right brain to the left brain; consequently, art is often a back door to truth. Clearly, people are brought to faith through great aesthetics. The power of a work of art draws people to behold it, and after a while they begin to wonder if the ideas that inspired it are true.
As a general rule, the larger the church, the more-important worship aesthetics become. This can be compared to the difference between two restaurants, both of which have great food. One restaurant is a dive, tucked away in a hard-to-find basement. Its patrons are proud of the fact that not many people eat there. It attracts few new customers because nobody knows where it is unless told by an insider. The other restaurant, however, places a premium on good advertising and a pleasant ambience. It’s easy to find, warm and friendly. Everything about the restaurant communicates, Why don’t you try our food?
I would go so far as to say that when planting a church, you determine its future size in part by the importance you place on aesthetics in worship. But it’s important to keep worship aesthetics in perspective. To God there’s not much difference between the classically trained soloist and Brother Joe’s nephew. God is the One we want to please, and I doubt he judges on the basis of aesthetics.
Easy Access
Contemporary pop music is not the only art that attracts non-Christians, however. I’m always puzzled when I hear pastors suggest that it is. Our largest service at Redeemer is not the one we started with the contemporary band (though that could change). It’s the one with traditional hymns and string quartets playing classical music. Perhaps that’s because New York faces Europe more than the rest of the country. I’ve found the people of Manhattan like formality. They’re used to cathedrals, art museums, symphonies.
I’ve also found that many center-city people who come back to the faith choose a liturgical church. These people tend to be intellectuals: professors, writers, musicians. Many non-Christians feel safe in a liturgical service because they know what’s happening next. There are no surprises.
Nonnegotiables
The pressure to create a good worship service each week can cause me to react wrongly when a service doesn’t come off the way I think it should. I’m a detail person, and occasionally I cringe when a vocalist blows it or the microphone system goes haywire. That’s not a good reaction. It indicates an overemphasis on aesthetics. The truth is that just as people can have an aesthetic experience and not worship, they can also worship without good aesthetics. I need to remember that. I’m committed to excellence but don’t want to make it a nonnegotiable. Aesthetics are negotiable; truth is not.
The authenticity of the worship leader is another nonnegotiable. I must be worshiping God throughout the week. I use Martin Luther’s daily scheme of garland meditation, which he describes in a letter. I meditate until some thought of Scripture catches fire in my heart. I collect those thoughts, which stay radioactive all week, and use them in my worship leading the next Sunday. This prepares me to worship in concert with the congregation. My people can sense whether I am worshiping or not. I believe the church needs to see me worship, to see my affections being moved by the truth of God.
Dr. Tim Keller was founder of Redeemer Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Manhattan, chairman of Redeemer City to City, and co-founder of The Gospel Coalition. He wrote numerous books, including The Reason for God. He and his wife, Kathy, had three children.
Adapted from “Changing Lives Through Preaching and Worship” by Timothy Keller. Copyright © 1995. Used by permission of Christianity Today International.
