Worth-ship

I invite you to turn with me to Colossians chapter 3. I’m going to read from the first verse to the end of the seventeenth verse. As is Paul’s pattern, he has laid down the doctrinal indicatives in the first two chapters—what is true of these believers in Christ. And then, having done that, he moves to the moral imperatives on the strength of what is true of them. And we read:

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.”

Those are quite remarkable statements, aren’t they? “For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” When we were baptized, we gave testimony to what was a reality in the symbol of baptism: buried with him in baptism and raised with him to newness of life. The implications then follow:

“Put to death therefore what[ever] is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming. In these you too once walked, when you were living in them. But now you must put them all away: anger, wrath, malice, slander, and obscene talk from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have put off the old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator. Here there is not Greek and Jew, circumcised and uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave, free; but Christ is all, and in all.

“Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. 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. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”

Thanks be to God for his Word.

Father, we pray that as we turn our thoughts to the things of your Word, that you will grant to us insight and faith and believing trust and genuine obedience. For we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

If we’re going to have a text, then it will be the sixteenth verse: “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.”

The Legacy of the Book of Common Prayer

I don’t know whether it was the fact that I said this morning, “Of course, we may be at the very threshold of humanity, and it may go on for a very long time”—I’m not sure if it was that—which triggered in me the thought this afternoon, “I wonder: If this goes on for, let’s say, another two hundred years, I wonder if anybody will be there. I wonder what kind of building they will have. I wonder if anyone will gather. And I wonder: If they gather, what will they do when they come? And I wonder whether any of the foundational elements of what makes Parkside Parkside will actually have lasting and significant value through the generations—not least of all when it comes to the matter of the people of God gathering as an expression of the family of God to give praise and glory to God.”

As you know, I am an unashamed fan of the Book of Common Prayer—which, for those of you who are not Anglicans, you can wonder about it and go and find it. That does not mean that I am happy with everything that appears in the Book of Common Prayer. There are obvious discrepancies between my own convictions regarding baptism as well as other things. But all of that being said, I am a fan of the Book of Common Prayer. I’m a fan of something that could have been put together in the sixteenth century and is still being used to the benefit of God’s people in the twenty-first century. I suppose you might say that I am, in that respect, a fan of tradition, when the tradition teaches us who we are under God and provides us the means of giving glory to God. And with that in mind, I simply want to reflect with you for a moment or two along this line of thought, partly historical in its observation, hopefully foundationally biblical in its orientation, and for some a reminder and for others an introduction.

The prayer book was put together over a period of time at the end of the sixteenth century and into the seventeenth century. Archbishop Cranmer—he wasn’t archbishop when he began this, but he became the archbishop of Canterbury—he was responsible. He was ultimately the architect of the prayer book. And he endeavored to put this together in the company of his colleagues in order to ensure for the people of God a mechanism and a means for gathering together in public worship and reading the Bible together, praying together, and singing God’s praise together.

When you recognize that this is the time of the Reformation and when you pay attention to the fact that prior to the Reformation, the notion of the participation of God’s people in the celebration of the Mass extended to little more than simply the receiving of the sacrament… And indeed, the way in which the services were conducted was such that people could come and go virtually as they pleased as long as they were there for the big moment. And so the Book of Common Prayer was then provided as a guide to the clergy so that those who conducted the public worship might have a framework and also as a devotional aid and as a handbook for the laity.

In his introduction to the 1662 prayer book, Cranmer says that he wanted it to enable the people of God in the art of worshipping God. In the art of worshipping God. And the directions that were given never left any stone unturned, so that the directive was there concerning the tolling of the church bell: when it was to be tolled and for how long it was to be tolled—obviously a very different kind of community from what we experience today. But nevertheless, it was there in order that it might summon the people in the community to an awareness of the reality of God and the call to the worship of God.

The minister is directed in the introduction to make sure that he begins the service of worship by speaking “with a loud voice.” It might seem a strange thing to say. But the reason that it was done was in order to distinguish between what had marked the Dark Ages—namely, a sort of mysterious mumbo jumbo that could barely be heard by the people when they came, because it didn’t really matter what the priest was saying. And if they couldn’t understand the Latin, that didn’t matter either. “But,” says Cranmer, “we’re not going to do it that way. We’re going to make sure that everybody knows that when we begin, we begin. And one of the ways that we can ensure this is to make sure that the minister understands that”—so that the worship then called for the participation of those who attended, and it aimed at the edification of those who attended.

It was directed to bring the individual—here’s the phrase—out of himself or out of herself, into the awareness, into the realization, that he or she is a part of a vast family of God, so that when the children say, “Well, why can’t we just stay in the living room and have church?” the answer is “Well, we can approximate to it by staying in the living room. But if we stay in the living room, we will not be able to understand the fact that we’re part of a much larger community, and that is the family of God.”

To worship God is to give him the chief place in my thoughts and in my interests.

When we come together in worship—and the directive of the prayer book is only as good as it gives to us an understanding of the directive of Scripture—our focus is on the “worth-ship” of God himself. Worship is simply an abbreviation of the Anglo-Saxon weorthscipe—namely, the worth of the one who is being approached is the focus of each one in approaching; not simply, then, that when we say that we will worship God, that we will understand who he is, but also that in saying we will worship God, what we’re saying is that we will give him the chief place—the chief place—in our thoughts and in our interests. To worship God is to give him the chief place in my thoughts and in my interests.

So you take, for example, just the notion of the Lord’s Day. It’s a twenty-four-hour period with the opportunity for us to do all kinds of things in that time. When it comes to the evening hour, as it has come now, why, then, would we gather again? Well, perhaps because some said that “this is another opportunity for me to identify the fact that it is an immense privilege and a peculiar joy to give to God the chief place in my thoughts and in my affections.” So the children say, “Well, why are we doing this? Why are we going again, Dad?” You can tell them: “Because Jesus has chief place in my thoughts and in my affections”—as opposed to “Well, let’s see if we can fit it in,” or “Let’s look at everything else that’s going on, and if, all things being equal, we can find an opportunity to accommodate this, then perhaps we’ll go ahead and do it.” No. No. God and his glory is the priority, and the congregation—we as individuals and our need—come only after a consideration of God himself.

When you think about that, it makes sense, doesn’t it? Because it is God who has taken the initiative in bringing himself into the realm of our understanding. When Paul speaks to them in Athens, you remember, he says that “even your own poets have said, ‘In him we live and move and have our being,’”[1] and that God has taken the initiative in bringing men and women to himself in the person of the Lord Jesus Christ. “We love [him] because he first loved us.”[2]

And that is why Jesus, in his encounter with the woman at the well, explains to her when she asks the question concerning the location of worship, he says, “You know, you don’t need to worry until that day dawns, because, frankly, there is a day coming when those who worship him will worship in spirit and in truth. For these are the kind of worshippers that the Father seeks.”[3] So God the Father is actually taking the initiative, as it were, in existential terms. He looks down, as it were, on the city of Cleveland on an evening like this, and he is seeking worshippers—seeking us out, saying, “Will you worship me tonight? Will you make me the chief object of your thoughts and your affections amongst the people of God in that place? Will you gather with other people and declare my worth?”

Emotion, Reason, and Volition

Now, that is what Paul is saying here in Colossians 3 and elsewhere, isn’t it? “You must let the word of Christ dwell in you richly. You will then have a relationship in teaching and admonishing one another in wisdom and then in singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs”—so that when we worship God, as we do in our praise, it involves emotion, so that we may be stirred, we may be chastened, we may be humbled, we may be constrained, we may be inspired. We’re not all put together in the same emotional dimensions, but nevertheless, when we engage in the praise of God, there is an emotional dimension to it.

Worship is a recollection of God’s goodness which engages my mind, which then stirs my emotion.

There is at the same time an intellectual dimension to it, insofar as it engages our minds. And that is why when Paul wrote, he said that he was concerned for these folks, because they had a zeal, but it was devoid of knowledge.[4] In other words, they were zealous, but they didn’t have it framed in a way that would constrain them and restrain them. In the same way, it would be possible for us to have a tremendous amount of knowledge and yet to be absent any kind of zeal. But the combination is that recollection of God’s goodness which engages my mind, which then stirs my emotion.

Now, that’s very different from saying, “Well, my emotion is stirred by a certain melody line,” or “My emotion is stirred when the music is played in the way that I like it at the sound level that I like it,” or “at the speed that I like it”—whatever else it is. That may or may not be the case. That’s not what the Bible is talking about when it’s talking about the fact that for us to be engaged with God is to be engaged at the emotional level, it is to be engaged at the intellectual level, and it is to be engaged at the volitional level.

At the volitional level. It involves my will. Now, if you think about this, it makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? Because it involves my will before, during, and after I gather for worship with God’s people. Because somewhere along the line this afternoon, you made a decision of your will that you would come here. Now, you may have had a surge of emotion. I don’t know. The chances are you didn’t. If you had a surge of emotion, it may have taken you in the opposite direction entirely. And therefore, you probably had to say to yourself, “Now, wait a minute: Am I going to get in my car? Am I going to drive there? Do I want to brave the elements? What about my children? Do I want to put them in that room?” You have had to work your way all through that—volitionally. And it is a result of your will that you find yourself here.

When you engage in worship, once you arrive here, now you’ve got another decision to make: “Am I going to participate, or am I just going to sit there and let everybody carry the can? And am I going to concentrate, or am I just going to fall asleep at the earliest possible opportunity?” These are not emotional decisions. These are volitional decisions. And the work of the Spirit of God in the life of God’s child is no less engaged in the volitional element than in the emotional element or the intellectual element.

So, in other words, when we are going to speak to one another in this way and to speak to God in that way, it involves the combination of heart and mind and will, combining in us so as to engage us in the highest of all human activities. In the highest of all human activities. That’s what happens when we gather to confess our sins, to read and hear the Scriptures, to sing to God’s praise. We’re actually engaging in the highest of any form of human activity. Every other aspect of human activity bows before this.

Now, you see, that’s what gives it significance, whether it’s a large group or a small group. That is what gives it significance. That is why I admire the folks who continue with their services even in some of the hardest places, with the smallest numbers: because they’re saying, “This is the chief end of man: to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.[5] And that is why we’ve gathered, and that is why we will continue to gather.”

So, 350 years after the prayer book is written, they’re still using the prayer book. Three hundred and fifty years after this evening service, what will there be here at Parkside Church?

The Character and Purpose of Praise

Now, Cranmer, who was the architect—who was, you know, interested in when the bell was ringing and right down to the sound of the minister’s voice—he gave guidance for the songs as well. No surprise. He said that when we choose God’s praise, it is to be marked by three things. I’ll just tell them; I won’t expound them.

Number one: It is to be reverent. Reverent. Okay? I don’t think I need to define reverence. That’s not necessarily an indication of style. In the minds of some people, it’s an indication of style—not in my mind. I’ve been in very reverent places in Africa that had a style very different from an expression of reverence in an Anglican cathedral, but it was still reverence. We should not be misled by the style. It was to be reverent. Secondly, it was to be distinct, so that you could actually hear what you were singing, so that you actually knew what you were singing. And thirdly, it was to be simple, so that even the smallest child could also sing—both in terms of the words and also in terms of the melodic line. Intensely practical, I’m sure you would agree.

All of these things we make—whether we do so ostensibly or not—we seek to make part and parcel of all that we do here at Parkside when we gather for praise. And when people ask the question (and often it is young people who ask the question) “Well, why do you even do it at all?”—because there is a distinct possibility, is there not, that these devices which have the capacity for so much good may actually be the very threshold of the destruction of the gathering of God’s people? Because as generations continue to live in isolation from each other; as moms and dads and children live alone while together; as already people are saying, “Well, I don’t know if I’m going to Parkside; I can watch it in the afternoon on the internet”; it’s only a short journey from there to saying, “I don’t really need to go anywhere at all. Frankly, I don’t need to get out of my bed. Just stream it to me live here on my device, and let’s be done with it. I can have my cereal. I can have my coffee. I can do whatever I want to do. Let’s be practical about things.” I understand that argument. What are you going to say in opposition to it? “Well, that’s not the way we’ve always done it.” No, you’re going to have to come up with something much better than that. Much better than that.

Well, let me tell you why, without further exposition. Why would we gather and sing together in this way, at this time, in this place?

Number one: because we’ve got something worth singing about. We’ve got something worth singing about. That’s number one. The cults don’t sing. Buddhists don’t sing. Islam doesn’t really sing. The Krishnas chant, but they don’t sing. Why do Christians sing? Because we have something worth singing about. So that’s the first reason.

“But I can sing in my bathroom.” Of course you can. You can think you’re Pavarotti singing in your bathroom. But when you’re singing behind me, as some young fellows were this morning, I know for sure you’re not Pavarotti. I wanted to turn around and hug the guys for the exuberance of their singing. About one in seven notes was actually the right note in the melody. But it didn’t cost me a thought. I was so happy to hear these young fellows just singing out—every so often intersecting with the melody but nevertheless wholeheartedly engaged with it all. Why? Because they are absolutely convinced there’s something worth singing about.

Praise, my soul, the King of heaven;
To his feet your tribute bring;
Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven,
Who like thee his praise should sing?
Praise him! Praise him!
Praise him! Praise him!
Praise him! He’s the everlasting King![6]

You see, that’s what we’re saying to one another when we come. Of course we can do that on our own. But when we come together, it’s far more significant.

Secondly: because—and it’s a corollary to the first—when we sing and gather in praise in this way, it is an expression of our unity in the gospel. It’s one of the ways in which we actually affirm. You can do it in creedal statements. We do that from time to time. But the way in which we actually declare our shared convictions about theology at Parkside Church is not as a result of when I speak, everyone’s going, “Amen, amen, amen, amen!”—but actually, the way that we’re doing it is by the singing of our songs.

Do you understand how distinctive we are as a church because of our very hymnody? I don’t mean that in any in any self-assertive way. For some that’s good, and for some it’s ill; but nevertheless, it’s clear. So the very songs that are being sung are songs that are worth being sung, and when we sing them, it is an expression of our unity in the gospel. Ephesians 5:18: “Do[n’t] get drunk with wine, for that is debauchery, … be filled with the Spirit, addressing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, [and] singing and making melody to the Lord with your heart, [and] giving thanks always.” It’s the same statement, really, as Colossians chapter 3, isn’t it? Only in Ephesians it’s “Be filled with the Spirit.” In Colossians it’s “Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly.” This is synonymous with one another. The word dwells, the Spirit dwells, God’s people exhort and encourage one another, and they sing to his praise.

And thirdly and finally, it is not only that we have a faith worth singing about, it is not only that it is an expression of our unity in the gospel, but it is also that it is a foretaste of the day when we will express our praise in a fashion that is unhindered. For right now, we’re hindered. We’re hindered by our attitudes. We’re hindered by our ability. We are limited in so many different ways. But this is all a practice. People often say to me, “Well, you better enjoy yourself now, ’cause this is not a dress rehearsal, you know.” I always tell them, “Oh, yes, it is a dress rehearsal.” It is. This is not a real deal here. Revelation 4:11 (you needn’t turn to it): “Worthy are you, our Lord and God.” As they cast their crowns before the throne, this is what they were saying:

Worthy are you, our Lord and God,
 to receive glory and honor and power,
for you created all things,
 and by your will they existed and [they] were created.

You go into chapter 5, it’s the same thing, isn’t it? That they bowed down with the golden bowls of incense, and “they sang a new song”:

Worthy are you …
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
… you ransomed [a] people for God
 from every tribe and language and people and nation,
and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God,
 and they shall reign on the earth.[7]

When we were thinking this morning about how the statement of Jesus in Mark 12 played into the first-century Christians and the challenge that it was to them, insofar as they were living their lives under the domination of an alien power[8]—and as they then took the Word of God and took it to themselves and began to read what was written, and as they realized what God expected of them and called them to, so they went out and lived. And when you read the little bit of history that you’re expected to read when you do church history in your studies, and you read the letter that Pliny, the governor of Bithynia, in AD 112 sends to Trajan, who at that time is the Emperor of Rome—and he’s very concerned, because what he refers to as “the Christian sect”—“The Christian Sect, I don’t know what to do with them,” he writes to the emperor, “because,” writes Pliny, “on an appointed day, they are in the habit of meeting before dawn and singing a hymn to Christ as to a god.”[9]

Now, you just think about that for a minute. AD 112. That’s a long time ago by any standards. Who are these people? What part of suburban Bithynia do they live in? Do they have chandeliers? Do they have muted lighting? What about instrumentation? Are they using drums, or is anyone offended by that? Are they concerned because someone sneaked a saxophone in the back door, or is it simply all strings and woodwind? What are they doing? They’ve got none of that! They’re poor. They’re hunted. They’re in the dark. They have no building. They have no instruments. And yet, despite everything, they are faithfully gathering together, greeting the dawn of another day’s potential persecution by praising Almighty God.

Boy, that’s a long way removed from “Well, if you serve it to me right, and if you keep it in the right time frame, and if you, if you, if you, if you, then perhaps, yes, I might be able to manage.” And I’m only talking about me.

The psalmist says, “From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised!”[10]

Come, bless the Lord, all you servants of the Lord,
 who stand by night in the house of the Lord!
Lift up your hands to the holy place
 and bless the Lord![11]

[1] Acts 17:28 (paraphrased).

[2] 1 John 4:19 (ESV).

[3] John 4:23 (paraphrased).

[4] See Romans 10:2. See also Colossians 2:1–4.

[5] The Westminster Shorter Catechism, Q. 1.

[6] Henry Francis Lyte, “Praise, My Soul, the King of Heaven” (1834). Lyrics lightly altered.

[7] Revelation 5:9–10 (ESV).

[8] See Mark 12:13–17.

[9] Pliny, Letters 10.96. Paraphrased.

[10] Psalm 113:3 (ESV).

[11] Psalm 134:1–2 (ESV).