Liturgy and Orgy: Paradigms for Worship?

While reading Mark Buchanan's The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath, I ran across this interesting description...

"Liturgy's an odd word, even awkward, for the early church to have chosen to describe its acts and forms of worship. It was a word they had to pry loose and drag over from a context far removed from the world of hymns and prayers and sermons. Liturgy originally meant a public work--something accomplished by a community for the community. A town bridge, for instance, or a village well, or a city wall: something built by the people and for the people. The oddness and awkwardness of the church's decision to import this word is even greater when we realize that they had a word for worship close at hand, a word in wide circulation within a religious context: orgy. Orgy now has sordid overtones. But in the days of the early church, it didn't, or at least the sordidness was still in the background. Orgy described a public event that produced a private, usually ecstatic, experience. It was the word pagan religions used for their worship, regardless of how many peole were involved--and the more, the better--the emphasis was always squarely on the emotional experience of the individual."

Ouch! I don't enjoy readings like this. As a 2x4 across the forehead, these words whack my pride in what I often consider a "worshipful" experience. I tend to label the veracity of God's presence on whether or not I have felt his movement. Usually, this translates... I was overwhelmed emotionally, I received some bit of encouragement that helped me feel better about myself, my heart strings were pulled, and so on. All these may, indeed, be a valid part of the worship experience--I certainly don't discount that--but they are all about me. I wonder... are these the bedrock paradigms for understanding the mystery of Christian worship?

Mark Buchanan offers a different way to address worship, and for me a different way to assess the validity of worship--what does it do? where does it go? He continues...

"Liturgy is done by me--I am invited, perhaps required, to play a role--but it's not about me. It's about us. It is about the Other. Its purpose is to benefit the entire community--to provide protection or access to all. One of the more common usages of the word in the ancient world was for the making of a bridge. Liturgy is bridge building."

How are we building bridges?

By the way, Mark is an evangelical pastor in Canada, whose church's worship style is contemporary.

Blessings,
JON

My Holy Joy

St. Augustine wrote Confessions in 397 AD. It was a personal outpouring of his soul to God, a prayerful account of his life, and a thoughtful pondering of God’s mysterious ways. Early in his book, Augustine sets forth an eclectic description of God…

“What, then, are you, O my God—what, I ask, but the Lord God? Who is Lord but the Lord? Who is God save our God? Most high, most excellent, most potent, most omnipotent; most merciful and most just; most hidden and most near; most beautiful and most strong; unchangeable, yet changing all things; never new, never old; making all things new, yet bringing old age upon the proud; always working, yet ever at rest; gathering, yet needing nothing; sustaining, pervading, and protecting; creating, nourishing, and developing; seeking, and yet possessing all things. You love without lusting; are jealous, yet free from care; repent, and have no sorrow; are angry, yet serene; change your ways, leaving your plans unchanged; recover what you find without ever losing; are never in want, while you rejoice in gain; never greedy, though requiring interest. You pay debts while owing nothing; and when you forgive debts, you lose nothing…. O my God, my life, my holy joy.”

Sometimes I forget to ask that question: “What, then, are you, O my God?” I forget to ask it intentionally, in a way that breaks to the heart of my soul and makes me face the parts of my being that are not directly given to God. So often I am perfectly comfortable with what I already know of God. In my mind I may recite the things of God I know I should say—“God is great; God is good; let us thank Him for this food.”—those rut-like rudimentaries I inherit from the habits of faith borne out of amazing experiences with God, which have over time lost their umph.

But there are other times too. There are moments in life when I stop to think about God, asking the deeper questions that go beyond my own world, questions striking at the very heart of God’s character and identity. Who are you? Who are you, really? Why did you make me? Why am I here? Why do you love me so much? Why do you want me to be yours? These are the questions that lead me to greater faith, because they lead me to God. They allow me the opportunity to open myself before God and struggle with the complexities of faith, the deeper doubts of life, and the changing relationship I have with Him. They give me the grace to offer up my own inadequate ideas of God, and come face to face with the Absolute One, the Living God, and recognize that when all is said and done, He is the One who paid my debt and forgave even a sinner like me! “O my God, my life, my holy joy.”

Can We Blow Something Up, Dad?

Yesterday, Noah and I bought a science experiment kit. He saved his money for quite some time and wanted to buy science stuff. We 'played' with it for much of the day today while Mom, Daniel and Michael are on retreat in Abilene. With 450 plus experiments to consider, we dove into the flotsam and jetsam of parts--beakers, test tubes, wires, batteries, chemicals (baking soda and the like). We learned today about Inertia both in resting and moving objects, and the force necessary to stop or make move.

Then, Noah went to play with his friend Jake. When they came back, I heard the sincere question, "Can we blow something up, dad?" Hmmm... I suppose boys will be boys, preferring destruction to most forms of entertainment. Well, we didn't blow anything up. But we did do the baking soda/vinegar trick, and they thought that was way cool. After that they still wanted to blow something up.

Karate Noah

Noah was awarded his Karate white belt this week. He is very proud. He is learning blocks, kicks, positioning. He gets to spar with other kiddos and enjoys it every time. Mom and Dad like it because he and Daniel are learning discipline, respect, honor as well as being prepared to defend and protect others. Noah is here in 'fighting position'.

Just A Quick Nap, Please!!

This is Michael Aidan just a few months ago sleeping peacefully at 14 months. Though he is just beyond a year old, he already thinks he is a big boy, for he just wants to be doing the things his brothers do. Hmmm...

Making Life a Prayer

This week I have been reading a short compilation of John Cassian’s writings entitled Making Life A Prayer. Writing fifteen centuries ago, Cassian shares thoughts of spiritual growth and the complexities of living in Christ that are relevant to our spiritual journey today. His main emphasis is on prayer, which is the means by which we come into constant communion with Jesus. Cassian describes the variety of ways God may speak to us…

“Often through some inexpressible delight and keenness of spirit the fruit of conviction arises so that it actually breaks forth into shouts owing to the greatness of its uncontrollable joy. The delight of the heart and greatness of exultation make themselves heard. But sometimes the mind hides itself in complete silence within the secrets of a profound quiet so that the amazement of a sudden illumination chokes all sounds of words, and the overawed spirit either keeps all its feelings to itself or loses them and pours forth its desires to God with sighs too deep for words. And sometimes it is filled with such overwhelming conviction and grief that it cannot express it except by floods of tears.”

Uncontrollable joy. Profound silence. Overwhelming grief. These are the responses we sometimes have when God shares with us the power of his Grace, the revealing of his Word. Though these are variegated and seem contradictory, I think they accurately reflect the many-faceted ways God works in us, speaks to us, and draws us to his side. We come with the totality and complexity of our emotions and thoughts, because God wants all of us—smiles, tears and uncertainties—to be found in Him.

This month, as we experience the new life of Spring budding forth all around us, let us also consider how God’s Easter promise of new life in the soul may come to us.

Blessings,
JON

Our Interfering God

Connie Williams, editor of Discipleship Journal, shares this about her life…

“Someone watching me go off to work in the morning, sit in my cubicle all day, and then head home in the evening—maybe with a stop at the library or grocery store—would never believe I’m living a life of adventure. Here in Colorado, adventurers tend toward the extreme. Skiers take on backcountry slopes and flirt with avalanches. Hikers conquer mountain peaks. Bears and mountain lions sniff around our back doors (no kidding). So how can a cubicle life punctuated by grocery runs possibly be adventurous?

“Easy, when I’m abiding with God. When Jesus promises that He and the Father will come and make their home with me (Jn. 14:23), He neglects to mention that’s about as comfortable as having a case of dynamite delivered to my living room.”

I love that description, because I feel at times that’s how God is with me. Amidst the routines of life—which at times feel like a monotonous humdrum of fun-less busyness—there is an adventure happening. God is moving. God is encouraging and leading. God is prodding and convicting. God is lifting and setting straight. God is making his home in me. Yes, God is an interfering God! And agreeing with Connie Williams, I don’t find it very comfortable.

But I do find it good. It is good, because I learn to rely on God. I learn to trust him, lean on him, depend on him, so that before long I see like him, hear like him, speak like him. As he becomes more, I become less. And that is where the adventure happens, a place where predictability vanishes and the world looks different. In the midst of the roaring of the river rapids I hear the very voice of God. When turbulent times come upon me, I feel his steadfast love coming my way. When I am sleeping and cease to be cognizant, I know he is singing a song of prayer over me.

Oh, thank you, Lord, for your abiding presence. May I be more of yours today!
JON