We are beginning to tread in places that make me want to remove my shoes. We have proclaimed God’s goodness, recounted His saving love, we’ve (hopefully) heard a word that brings us into relationship with the Savior, and we’ve shaken the earth with our declarations of belief, our claims that this is the only reality worth anything.
The Prayers of the People come next in our liturgy, but I want to take a moment to digress before we walk further into the mystery that is the Eucharist.
The Prayers of the People are a response, a more heartfelt and personal response to the Presence we have invited into our midst than the Psalm was. We may not be speaking of ourselves in the prayers, but real intercession is a thrilling and dangerous place to walk, if we learn how. I am so anxious to begin to explore that with you, but there is something that I really need to do first.
Because we have entered into a holier part of the “temple” of worship, it is time for our liturgical forms to begin to cede their place to the Holy Spirit. There is some value to structure, and some value to the corporate exercise of liturgy, especially up to this point. There is also value to freedom in worship, freedom that permits God to bless the congregation and us as individuals through in-breakings that don’t follow the script.
It is good, as long as it is the Spirit’s will, to worship with the same words and movements and notes and feelings as our brothers and sisters. But sometimes the Scriptures speak more pointedly to one congregant than another. There may be moments of conviction or liberation that encourage us to stay with that word or song or posture while the rest of the congregation goes on ahead. I want to say, as strongly as I can, that we need to learn to make room for this.
I stand up front, leading the worship. For the most part, it is my responsibility to restrain myself in worship to be sure that each part of the service is carried through in some fashion. That seems right and good to me. But if someone is moved to weep in the service, I’d like them to feel free to do so without concern that others will be disturbed. We don’t have to intrude and ask “What’s wrong?” and fix it.
There are many, many different pieces to the liturgy, each with it’s own value and purpose. And different people in the church may be there in need of a different part. So I think it important that we keep the service moving ahead (unless the Spirit just overcomes everyone). But as we do, it is equally important that we permit those who need to rest in a particular place to stay where they are. Sitting while others sing to ponder a word from God spoken to their hearts as they listened to Scripture, dancing even as we move into the confession, if that is where the Lord leads them, or even singing or shouting in the midst of other elements of worship. I know this sounds scary, and it can be a little messy, but if we submit this freedom to the Lord, it won’t be nearly as disruptive as you might think. Indeed, the Spirit will use each moment of difference to draw our attention to Himself, not to the worshiper! We don’t “ignore” those who aren’t moving along with us, we may pray for them, even celebrate what God is doing in/for them. We just give space for the Spirit’s work.
As we enter into the holier moments of our worship, though, it is mightily important to me that we leave the last of our devotion to worship done in perfect unison behind. “Decently and in order” never meant this to Paul. What he speaks of is the exercise of spiritual gifts in submission to God, who will use them to bless the congregation, not a rigid adherence to the schedule in the bulletin.
So, take off your shoes, and next week we’ll enter into the realm of intercession.
In Him,
Jeff
