Thoughts on Church: Worship & Doctrine
I had the joy of visiting what will soon be my home church this past Easter. It was a beautiful service, made all the more meaningful by the knowledge that the church, that morning, was more full than it had been in the past decade — if not ever. There were rousing hymns sung with choir and pipe organ; white lilies adorning the pulpit; a stirring sermon on the Resurrection as told by Luke. Sunlight beamed through stained-glass windows and the high ceiling resounded with song.
All this stands in contrast to my childhood church — which is also a wonderful, Christ-serving, Gospel-preaching place. We had no special flowers for Easter; we sang Gettys songs to an acoustic guitar and drumset. Our sermon was also an Easter morning special, from 1 Corinthians. Sunlight slanted through tall glass windows and the high ceiling resounded with song.
Both churches’ doors stood open to visitors who are usually unwilling or simply unmoved to enter a church and sit under the preaching of God’s Word. The pews of both churches were filled with friends and family and guests who felt welcomed. I don’t write any of this to cast judgement on either church — or to pretend they’re perfect. But as I step into moving from one home church to another, I’ve had a thousand thoughts on church, doctrine, and worship circling in my mind, and I thought it would be worthwhile to write a few of them down.
Two thoughts from Andrew Bonar struck me as relevant to this topic. “God can do more on earth than in heaven for the glory of His name,” and, “What is a perfection in God should be a quality in us.” The way we, His people, gather and worship on earth should reflect God’s glory and bring Him honour. Where He is glorious, we should be worshipful. Where He is omniscient, we should seek His wisdom. And where He is holy, we should strive for His purity.
The glory and holiness of God is one quality that any church service should reflect upon. R.C. Sproul pointed out that “there is a kind of sequence within [the Lord’s P]rayer. God’s kingdom will never come where His name is not considered holy. His will is not done on earth as it is in heaven if His name is desecrated here. In heaven the name of God is holy. It is breathed by angels in a sacred hush. Heaven is a place where reverence for God is total. It is foolish to look for the kingdom anywhere God is not revered.” The phrase “sacred hush” struck me when I first came across this passage. There’s a reverence in heaven that is often too quickly discarded on earth. One thing I have found refreshing about both these churches is that they encourage silence and thoughtfulness, a breath between songs or readings from the liturgy.
The mention of silence refers me to another Bonar quote. “How much more ought we to be joyous in our heavenly Father’s presence! We need not be always singing. The heart has a silent language. There it too little of adoration — simple worship — at the present time.” This, I would contend, is only more true in the centuries since Bonar’s writing. At any truly God-fearing church, there is an appreciation, an adoration, of His holiness and glory. Yes, Christians are a singing people. We have had chants and hymns and psalms since the first. Scripture even enjoins us to sing: “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God” (Colossians 3:16). And yet “the heart has a silent language,” and there is a stillness within heaven that reflects God’s majesty and holiness. We are called to sing, but also to “calm and quiet [ourselves]” (Psalm 131:2), and to “be still, and know that [He is] God” (Psalm 46:10). Church gatherings should lean upon and meld together both aspects of worship. As Andrew Peterson sings, our God is “silence and song.”
Prayer and the faithful preaching of Scripture are, of course, vital components of a godly church. As Mark Jones wrote, “God appointed faithful preaching as a means of sanctifying His people. And that is why, in worship, we should read, preach, sing, and pray the Word.” It’s been really painful to watch my childhood church acquire and lose multiple lead pastors in the nineteen years I spent there. We’ve always had the Word faithfully preached, but it’s not been stable or easy, and we’ve had difficulty upon difficulty in finding new men who will responsibly and prayerfully preach.
Louis Berkhof pointed out that “History clearly teaches that, before a Church can really pass judgement on heresies, she must have some official standard or test. And it goes without saying that she can never bear a united and powerful testimony to the truth, unless she herself presents a united front.” One thing I have observed about my (nondenominational) childhood church is that we struggle to present a united front, especially during times of change and turnover. I’m excited to see how and whether this contrasts with the Associate Reformed Presbyterian church I’ll soon be attending.
We’ve had issues with unity, but two strengths of both my churches, I believe, are community and theological consistency and accuracy. Community is central to any gathering of God’s people. We are one people, under one God, united in one faith. I have no idea where I heard/read/saw this, but someone observed once that a Christian has more in common with a believer who belongs to a pagan tribe in a jungle, than with his next-door neighbour who does not know Christ. I think both the churches I’ve described here reflect this truth. We have racial, economic, demographic, and plenty of theological differences (though no pagan tribal members to my knowledge), but we gather for meals and listen to God’s Word and there is no condescension in our conversations afterward. It’s been meaningful to have men and women from all walks and stages of life talk, pray, and laugh with me, at both churches. When I was away at college, I visited several churches where I felt no such sense of community, and it’s refreshing to know that I’ll be welcomed with open arms when I begin attending my new church in earnest.
The other aspect I’ve come to appreciate is the importance of consistent doctrine. D.M. Lloyd-Jones pointed out that “the spiritual butterflies are the people who do not know doctrine. It is not entertainment we need. It is truth. It is knowledge.” It is indispensable that a church have a clear understanding, a clear doctrine. “A Church without dogmas would be a silent church, and this is a contradiction in terms,” wrote Berkhof. “A silent witness would be no witness at all, and would never convince anyone.” And, as a pastor at Davis’s old church commented, “A church without creeds and confessions will soon vaporise into popular culture.” These statements of faith emphasise the most central parts of the faith — doctrines of God, man, sin, salvation, the afterlife, and so on. They also include secondary components, without presenting them as primary.
R.C. Sproul observed that “the key method Paul underscores as the means to the transformed life is by the ‘renewal of the mind.’ This means nothing more and nothing less than education. Serious education. In-depth education. Disciplined education in the things of God. It calls for a mastery of the word of God. We need to be people whose lives have changed because our minds have changed.” “The whole world is a theatre for the display of the divine goodness, wisdom, justice, and power, but the Church is the orchestra, as it were — the most conspicuous part of it;” wrote John Calvin, “and the nearer the approaches are that God makes to us, the more intimate and condescending the communication of His benefits, the more attentively are we called to consider them.”
The Christian faith is neither shallow nor effeminate. It is rich and hearty, and carries sober tones both of love and severity. “The Christian is sorrowful, but not morose; serious, but not solemn; sober-minded, but not sullen; grave, but not cold or prohibitive; his joy is a holy joy; his happiness a serious happiness.” So commented Lloyd-Jones, an observation that I find foundational to Christian worship and gathering. Of course, our faith is one of joy, peace, and love. Yet it is also vigilant, thoughtful, and deeper than anyone would guess at a glance — there is, as my pastor pointed out on Sunday, “more than meets the eye.” Sheldon Vanauken wrote that “the best argument for Christianity is Christians: their joy, their certainty, their completeness. But the strongest argument against Christianity is also Christians – when they are sombre and joyless, when they are self-righteous and smug in complacent consecration, when they are narrow and repressive, then Christianity dies a thousand deaths.” What I have come to see and love in both my home churches is this joyful and rich faith.
As I said at the beginning of these ramblings, they’re nothing more than a few of the thoughts that have occurred to me as I stand on the brink of this change. I am excited to see what God has in store for me (and for my new church!) in the coming years. I thank Him for His goodness in granting me thriving, faithful churches throughout my life. And I pray for continued growth and flourishing in the years to come.
