I know I already posted this at the old site, but I'm posting it here as well as I continue to explore the new features and interface here, as well as to give you an opportunity to interact with it, as the comments on the old site cut out nearly as soon as the post went up.

I tip my hat to Jeff Patterson for posting this on his blog first. This short, five-minute clip talks about four major ways sound affects us. There is a lot of interesting and surprising information in the clip. I have little to add except this: consider what he says about sound, and then think about it in terms of worship. That was one of the first things that came to mind when I watched it. Enjoy.

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In my spare time—well, actually when I should doing schoolwork—I have been reading some on the history of Anglicanism. Having known very little about the tradition, I wanted to get a better picture of its roots. It was only recently that I learned of the great influence some of the continental Reformers had on Anglicanism during its most formative time, like Peter Martyr Vermigli and Martin Bucer, who both spent many years there, and John Calvin, whose influence spread through his writings.

The most notable Reformer in the English tradition is Thomas Cranmer. Church history classes I have taken in the past have touched on his life and work, but my knowledge of him was rather limited. One of the books I have been reading is Stephen Neill's 1958 study, simply called Anglicanism. Early on, discussing Cranmer's influence in the English Reformation, he writes the following:

It is to be noted that Cranmer, like the other Reformers, had fallen in love with the Bible. But his love took a particular form. He believed that the Bible was the living word of God to every man, and that it comes with the greatest power when unaccompanied by any human gloss, comment, or exposition. He was convinced that, if his fellow countrymen could be induced to read the word of God, or, if illiterate, to hear it read, it would in course of time make its way into their hearts and consciences.

Neill writes that the composition of the Book of Common Prayer was, without measure, the most significant contribution Cranmer made to the Church in the Reformation era. Whereas the genius of men like Calvin lay in their theological contributions, for Cranmer it was formulating a liturgy saturated with Scripture. Neill continues:

It was only in the next reign [of Edward VI] that Cranmer was able to provide his Church with a lectionary; when he was able to do so, he made the Church of England in a day the greatest Bible-reading Church in the world. In no other Church anywhere is the Bible read in public worship so regularly, with such order, and at such length, as in the Anglican fellowship of Churches. In making such provision, Cranmer was laying heavy demands on his Englishmen, and reposing great confidence in them. But in that too he was the typical Anglican—Anglicanism is a form of the Christian faith that demands and expects a great deal from ordinary people.

In those churches which still use the Book of Common Prayer, Cranmer's influence lives on. It is quite something to worship with an Anglican congregation and see how Scripture saturates the liturgy, and to know that this was the work of Cranmer himself. I find it quite significant that Neill sees the Anglican tradition defined by its worship, as opposed to a tradition like my own, which is characterized much more by its theology.

And so Neill writes, "We have no English Luther or Calvin...[instead] we have as our chief reformer the man who had a greater genius for liturgical worship than any other of whom we have record in the whole history of the Church."

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As I have been reading Desiring the Kingdom, author Jamie Smith has continued to provoke me to thought with his insights. Earlier, I quoted a portion of the introduction, which had pointed to some of the questions he was setting out to answer in the book. On page 68, Smith speaks briefly about Charles Taylor's notion of the "social imaginary" (discussed in Taylor's book, A Secular Age), and then talks about how that notion can help the Christian worldview conversation. In many ways, I think this portion directly addresses some of his earlier questions.

The 'social imaginary' is an affective, noncognitive understanding of the world. It is described as an imaginary (rather than a theory) because it is fueled by the stuff of the imagination rather than the intellect: it is made up of, and embedded in, stories, narratives, myths, and icons. These visions capture our hearts and imaginations by 'lining' our imagination, as it were—providing us with frameworks of 'meaning' by which we make sense of our world and our calling in it. An irreducible understanding of the world resides in our intuitive, precognitive grasp of these stories.

Now, what does this have to do with a Christian worldview? I suggest that instead of thinking about worldview as a distinctly Christian 'knowledge,' we should talk about a Christian 'social imaginary' that constitutes a distinctly Christian understanding of the world that is implicit in the practices of Christian worship. Discipleship and formation are less about erecting an edifice of Christian knowledge than they are a matter of developing a Christian know-how that intuitively 'understands' the world in the light of the fullness of the gospel. And insofar as an understanding is implicit in practice, the practices of Christian worship are crucial—the sine qua non—for developing a distinctly Christian understanding of the world. The practices of Christian worship are the analogue of biking around the neighborhood, absorbing an understanding of our environment that is precognitive and becomes inscribed in our adaptive unconscious.

What Smith means with the analogy of biking around the neighborhood is that when we live somewhere, we become intimately familiar with it such that we can make our way around it and to specific destinations without even really thinking about where we are going. Another analogy could be the unconscious way we operate a car with a manual transmission after years of doing it.

Smith's caution against the concept of worldview becoming too intellectual is one I am familiar with, and I think is helpful. The aim of worldview education is the transformation of the whole person; however, there is a tendency for it to get bogged down in thought and conversation. Smith is entirely right to recognize that worship (not just our public worship on Sunday) plays an integral part—in fact, it may even be the crucial part—in forming an holistic understanding of the world.

We must look at the world through the lenses of the gospel, and that begins when our hearts are rightly ordered. What we worship shapes our hearts, dictates what we love, and fosters that intuitive know-how we operate from as we make our way through the world. That Smith should point out how important it is that education be aware of this is not surprising.

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Last week I was listening to a sermon that was something like 17-18 minutes long. I cannot remember what the sermon was on or where I found it (I deleted the mp3 file), but I remember thinking that the preacher had really not done justice to the text. The fact that he had lumbered along in an utterly apathetic drone did not help.

That prompted me to tweet about it, to which Scott Schultz replied with that he thought sermons longer than that could border on distraction because there are so many other things going on in worhsip. That short discussion provides the context for this post.

First, as I mentioned in the tweet, I don't think there is a magic number for what length of time a sermon should be. I've heard Mark Driscoll before say something to the effect that he is going to preach for an hour no matter what. Part of it, I understand, is his desire to break the inattentive nature of this fast-paced culture. But I don't think he's right about mandating a length of time. In fact, it seems to border on some sort of legalism. It is also seems to be a reflection on evangelicalism's tendency to view the sermon as the only important part of worship, everything else being tangential.

Second, and related to that, I am in full agreement with Scott that there are lots of things going on in worship. Worship cannot be devoid of certain elements, nor can disproportionate weight given to one or two elements above others. The public worship of God is a unified whole, and needs to be viewed as such. Music, prayer, confession and absolution, the reading of Scripture and proclamation of the Word, partaking of the Lord's table, and the pronouncement of blessing are all integral parts of worship.

Third, although all the various elements are integral to worship, I do think there is something unique about the preaching of the Word and the sacrament of the Eucharist. There is a reversal of sorts—in our songs, prayers, and offerings it is us, the worshipers, in some sense giving those things to God. But in the preaching and in the table God gives something to us. The first chapter of the Second Helvetic Confession states, "The preaching of the Word of God is the Word of God. Wherefore when this Word of God is now preached in the church by preachers lawfully called, we believe that the very Word of God is proclaimed, and received by the faithful." Certainly, that is quite a loaded statement, but it gets at the significance of the proclaimed Word. Also, it is not insignificant that faith comes by hearing (Rom. 10:17), and that faith is confessed assent to the proclaimed message that Jesus is Lord (Rom. 10:8-10).

Additionally, the Lord's Supper, as a means of grace, is also something that flows from God to us. The Heidelberg Catechism speaks of it as something that reminds and assures us of Christ's sacrifice (Q&A 75) and the nourishes and refreshes us (Q&A 77). John Calvin taught that the sacrament should always accompany the preaching of the Word because there was no more fitting way to conclude the proclamation of the Gospel than to taste and see it. John Witvliet, of the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship, agrees: "The sacrament seals the Word proclaimed. This means that if a sermon can’t be preached before the Lord’s Supper, it probably shouldn’t be preached!"

Fourth, and this is the main point I should have made more clearly originally, I have not yet heard a sermon do justice to a text in a short time frame of 15 minutes. It would be unwise to say it is impossible. In fact, what I heard at the wedding last weekend indicated to me that it is quite possible (although the context there was a little different). The years I have spent listening to sermons, however, seem to demonstrate a pattern of taking longer than that to really unpack a text. There is a personal perspective to this as well—having prepared a few sermons myself, I could not have adequately made the points I wanted to in less time.

All that being said, I think it would be quite wrong, as I said before, to require a sermon to fit within a time frame. That goes back again to something I read in Martyn Lloyd-Jones' lectures, Preaching and Preachers, for to do so would stifle the work of the Holy Spirit in preaching. There is a lot more that can be said about that, but I think you could easily draw your own conclusions on that point even if you have not yet read the book.

This all feels relatively inconclusive, but at this point I'll turn it over to Scott and anyone else who might like to offer some thoughts...

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Over the past few weeks I have been leading an adult Sunday School class on worship, which has turned out to be quite an adventure. Of course, since worship is at the very core of who we are as humans (WSC 1), it follows that people should be so inclined to want to talk about it.

This past Sunday, our discussion turned to Reformed and Presbyterian worship. Because the church is a member of the Presbyterian Church in America (PCA), it was important to me that we talk about worship in our own tradition. Quite a number of the people in our church do not come from that background, and so I thought it especially important that they spend some time learning about how worship (specifically public or corporate worship, in this instance) is understood in the Reformed tradition.

Back in April, that topic came up on this blog and generated more comments and interaction that I have ever had in five years of blogging. The discussion of Reformed worship centers on what is called the Regulative Principle of Worship (RPW), which basically says that in regards to public worship, whatever is not commanded in Scripture is forbidden. Essentially, the point is that only the sovereign God can determine how He is to be worshiped, and He has clearly revealed to us in His Word how we are to do that. In the comments to the post in April, I indicated that I had difficulties with this principle, but I must admit I spoke a little hastily. I have difficulty with some interpretations of the principle, not the general principle in and of itself.

Needless to say, this functioned as the bone of contention Sunday morning, for a number of reasons. For one, all of us are products of Western culture, a culture which dislikes both authority and rules and wants to be able to set its own terms for everything, including for what worship should look like. To many, the RPW seems to be just that—a bunch of rules and restrictions that hinder our ability to worship and allow the Holy Spirit to move and work among us.

Second, people approach worship with entirely subjective ideas of the true, good, and beautiful. Many come to the discussion with the presumption that the things they think constitute worship are valid on the grounds of their subjective reasoning alone. If they feel that a certain element evokes a powerful response in them, then it must be appropriate. But the sheer audacity of this is immediately clear, and the question again surfaces: who are we to tell God—the One by whom all standards of truth, goodness, and beauty are measured—what is appropriate for worship? Can we seriously believe that our conceptions of these things are sufficiently equal to the One who created them?

Third, almost all recognition of the authority of tradition has been done away with in evangelical churches. In part, this can be attributed to a reaction to the descent into traditionalism by some bodies. More to the point, however, this springs from the same "me- and-my-Bible" individualism and relativism wherein we choose to locate authority today. What needs to be recovered is the acknowledgment that the individual is part of something much bigger than himself. I emphasized Sunday morning that we as a Presbyterian church are heirs to a very rich tradition, one to which we owe a great deal. A specific understanding of worship is one of the things that comes out of this tradition.

It would be a great mistake to not honor the tremendous diligence and devotion with which our Reformed forebears studied the Bible in order to pass down to us the sum of what Scripture teaches for the life of the believer and the Church (in the Westminster Standards and the Three Forms of Unity). Appealing to the confessional documents, though, will usually prompt the reaction that their teaching, on worship in this instance, is just a product of historical context or circumstance. Granted, a healthy sense of the authority of tradition carries with it an implicit understanding that we do not hold to these teachings blindly. But a far bigger danger is to run headlong into an understanding of worship premised on the authority of subjectivity. The fact remains that theology must be done in community, and the authority of the church should always be held above that of the individual.

Abraham Kuyper, in his Encyclopedia of Sacred Theology: Its Principles, writes about the authority of the Church's traditions and confessions, and says that every theologian must reckon with the things taught by the history of the church, and “must take the dogmas of his church as his guide, and that he shall not diverge from them until he is compelled to do this by the Word of God” (577). We must begin, Kuyper says, with the assumption that the Church is right. For this reason the theologian should not view the confession as mere opinion over against his, but should recognize that the confession of the Church does not just presume to be true, it carries objective authority by virtue of the guidance of the Spirit (591).

Now, this creates a problem for those who have joined a local church who are not of Presbyterian or Reformed persuasion. In our church, we have a number of these. Membership in the PCA does not require subscription to the Westminster Standards, and so members do not need to adhere to the RPW in this case. However—and this is a point that is seldom emphasized—in becoming members of the church people are required to submit to the authority of the local church and to recognize that the church is constitutionally-bound, by virtue of its membership in the denomination, to uphold the teachings and theology of the denomination. What does this mean for the member in regards to this issue? In essence it means that if your theology of worship does not conform to that of the PCA, you are not allowed to subvert the authority of the church by raising a dissenting voice. Naturally, in this culture and in modern evangelicalism, this does not sit well.

While there are rules governing worship in the PCA because of its adherence to the RPW, a fair amount of liberty in working out the details of the principle is still granted. The Book of Church Order 47-6, says,

The Lord Jesus Christ has prescribed no fixed forms for public worship but, in the interest of life and power in worship, has given His Church a large measure of liberty in this matter. It may not be forgotten, however, that there is true liberty only where the rules of God’s Word are observed and the Spirit of the Lord is, that all things must be done decently and in order, and that God’s people should serve Him with reverence and in the beauty of holiness. From its beginning to its end a service of public worship should be characterized by that simplicity which is an evidence of sincerity and by that beauty and dignity which are a manifestation of holiness.

In working through this issue, I came across a post Tim Challies wrote in November of 2006, in which he pointed out the important distinction between the elements of worship and the circumstances of worship. The elements are the non-negotiables dictated by Scripture, while the circumstances can be equated with the forms mentioned in the portion of the BCO cited above. In the PCA that means, for example, that while singing is a required element of worship, the circumstance or form of that element (such as singing exclusively Psalms or incorporating contemporary music) is a matter of liberty to be decided by the local congregation.

As good as that sounds, in some sense I think it creates further problems. This is particularly the case when you begin to discuss aspects of worship in the Old Testament, for two reasons. One, it raises the question of what parts of worship belong to the dictates of the ceremonial law. But second, it raises a question of the nature of the ceremonial law itself—if the ceremonial law is abrogated today, does this necessarily entail that all its teaching on worship falls under the rubric of that which is forbidden in the RPW? Without a doubt we would wholeheartedly affirm that certain parts of it are, such as the sacrificial elements. But what about the music the Israelites employed in worship? What about David's dancing before the Lord (2 Sam. 6:14)?

I am going to leave that aside for now. To round this discussion off, I want to point out that while the RPW has often been perceived as legalistic and restrictive, there is a sense in which it is actually freeing. Just as we are most free when we submit our hearts to God and seek to live according to His will and rule, so we are most free in our worship when we submit to His rule for worship. The BCO is exactly right on that point: "There is true liberty only where the rules of God’s Word are observed and the Spirit of the Lord is."

Worship is not about us; it never is. It is all about Him. If we come to understand that and begin to seek only His will for worship, recognizing that only in doing His will do we truly glorify Him, then we will begin to faithfully worship our God. Many people talk about wanting to feel the presence and movement of the Holy Spirit in worship, but the only guarantee of that is to worship in spirit and in truth as God has revealed to us in His Word. Submission and surrender may be unpopular notions in our day, but there is absolutely no freedom in autonomy. And therein lies the heart of Reformed worship.

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Our church met for a service on Maundy Thursday last week. It was essentially a Good Friday service, given the absence of the observance of Good Friday itself in the United States. In addition to the usual elements of worship, they incorporated a variation of the “Stations of the Cross” at the end of the service. It is on that part of worship that I had a few thoughts in reflection.

The Stations of the Cross was something new to me. I’d only heard of it before, but had never experienced or taken part in it. I knew that it had its origins in the Roman Catholic tradition and had been appropriated to a degree by more liturgical bodies like the Anglican and Lutheran traditions as well. When I arrived at the church and looked at the setup they had in the sanctuary, I could immediately tell, without prior knowledge of the practice, that this was a thoroughly de-Catholicized version of the Stations of the Cross. Beyond the name, it would likely not have been recognizable to a Roman Catholic. It tended toward the individualizing view of salvation characteristic of evangelicalism and placed more emphasis on the benefits procured by us in Christ's death, than on Christ and His passion itself.

I am not altogether opposed to the church doing that sort of thing, as I believe there is room for some diversity in how we express our worship to God. However, I do wonder why we appropriate a mish-mash of liturgical practices without appropriating the tradition those practices properly belong to. Evangelicalism’s non-committal nature has tended towards this sort of thing. Churches pick and choose the elements they like from various traditions, but do so without aligning themselves with that tradition. A prime example of this was the Emergent movement, which wanted to recover some of the flavor of the ancient Church, but in some cases rejected or shied away from the orthodox theology that belonged to the ancient tradition.

Perhaps this is even more of a problem in a Presbyterian church, such as I belong to. This church already belongs to a specific, historical tradition. Are we questioning the value of our Presbyterianism by adopting these different practices, and in doing so implying that our tradition is not quite good enough and needs to be supplemented with these other elements? R. Scott Clark, in his recent book, Recovering the Reformed Confession, argues that the Reformed tradition not only has its own doctrine and piety, but a specific practice as well. There are points at which I disagree with him on the details, but his overall point stands. Being a part of such a tradition, can we properly adopt a variety of practices from differing traditions without compromising our own? My gut reaction is to say we can’t.

Additionally, it seems to me that we adopt a posture of arrogance when we do this. In the case of the Stations of the Cross, we have taken a Roman Catholic tradition, removed many of the Roman Catholic distinctives, and infused it with characteristics that would cater more to our evangelical sensibilities while attempting to retain the mystic nature of the practice. In effect, we are saying that we can appreciate a centuries-old Roman Catholic tradition so long as we alter it to fit into our own mold. Granted, there are not many Roman Catholic practices that would fit in a Presbyterian church given the discrepancy in the theology and practice of these two traditions. But does that make our adoption and remodeling of it right? Again, my gut reaction is to say it isn’t.

These are just musings. My biggest concern is with the way we are so quick to jump at the chance to use certain elements of worship without fully understanding them or where they come from. In effect, we treat them as a sort of novelty. Whether our appropriation of these various elements without their accompanying traditions is done of out an innocent sort of ignorance, or worse, a brazen rejection of the original intention of the practice, on either level we demonstrate a great deal of disrespect to that tradition.

Perhaps more significant, though, is that we then devalue our own tradition. In modern evangelical churches, especially those linked to a specific denomination and tradition, I think it is fair to say that most of the members of such churches do not have a healthy awareness and appreciation of their tradition. In this case, I would tend to think that appropriating different aspects of other traditions has the potential to be injurious to cultivating a posture of respect for one's own historical tradition.

All that being said, I'm not really sure what to think about it. I would appreciate any thoughts you might have on this.

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This post will wrap up my short series on the importance of theology. I looked first at the role theology plays in forming our thinking, speaking, and acting; and secondly, at how we need not shy away from theology if we understand it properly.

To tie up some loose ends, let me begin by drawing your attention to the Early Church. What is interesting to me is how many in the Church today want to reclaim the model of the Early Church, citing it as more biblical and "back to basics." While again I can understand and appreciate the sentiment, I wonder how many realize how intense of a period this was in terms of theological development. You only need to read a little about the Christological controversies, for example, to see how involved they were in theology and how pivotal their role was in shaping our theology today. It is also helpful to look to that volatile period as an example of why theology is so necessary.

Go back before that, even, and look at Jesus. I recently came across an interesting article by Mike Gilbart-Smith in which he argued that Jesus was a sort of systematic theologian as well. He did not just quote Scripture in his teachings, but brought the passages He used to light in the broader context of the rest of the biblical revelation. Consider what Gilbart-Smith says:

Scripture is often used in Scripture in a systematic manner...in order to observe the full implications of what the Bible teaches elsewhere.

Look again at Mark 12:24-27. Jesus rebukes the Sadducees for not knowing the Scriptures, yet what he criticizes is a part of their systematic theology: they wrongly deny the resurrection. He then reads Exodus 3:6 in the light of the systematic belief that God is the God of the living, to reach the conclusion that the Pentateuch affirms the resurrection.

The statement, ‘He is not the God of the dead but the God of the living,’ is particularly pertinent to our discussion. Not a single verse in the Old Testament makes this assertion explicitly, yet when we read of God’s action in the Old Testament as a whole, that he is the God of the living is clear. Jesus is not giving new revelation when he says this. He is deducing it from a systematic reading of the Old Testament. Neither is Jesus alone a legitimate systematician, for if he were, he would not rebuke the Sadducees for wrong systematics. They too were expected to make such logical connections from Scripture. If Jesus expected it of the Sadducees, then how much more will he expect it of his redeemed people?

Frequently, people who advocate the abandonment of theology will say something like, "just the Gospel!" or, "just give me Jesus!" It is clear from the quote above, however, that Jesus' message and teaching was not limited to the Gospel alone. Theology, as we have said, is the application of God's Word by persons to all areas of life. Jesus clearly demonstrates here the necessity of understanding the biblical revelation, in part because it leads to rightly understand the message of the Gospel. In the case of the Sadducees, they lacked the orthodoxy that was essential to orthopraxy. It should be noted as well that the Gospel, that simple message itself, is interwoven with the most basic yet profound theological formulations.

Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, it is not arrogant to take a theological position. It is necessary. How are you going to live faithfully if you don't have a set of convictions that you live according to? This is one of the reasons we engage in the the task of theology, to ensure that those convictions are consistent and biblical. Theology should not be a dry, intellectual, and scientific pursuit. It is instead a process and a journey and one that is most rewarding when faithfully carried out in the community of believers. Together as the body of Christ we work towards understanding so that we may all mold ourselves into His likeness. For as we continually work to faithfully be the imago Dei we then can be more faithful in our engagement in the missio Dei.

Embrace theology. To know rightly is to worship and to live rightly. It is the knowledge and love of God's revelation to us in His most precious Word that transforms our hearts and minds. That Word reveals Jesus Christ to us in every part. Doing theology, then, is nothing less than learning how to become more like Him. There is no more wonderful pursuit than that.

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I don't really want to go to church on Sunday.

Sometimes I like to stir the pot a little, and with Memorial Day being celebrated here in the United States on Monday, the ladle with which to do so is within easy reach. Our church will be holding a service in commemoration of that day on Sunday. We support a chaplain the U.S. Army and he will be coming to preach and to have lunch with us. From what I understand, our relatively small church has a high percentage of men who have served in the Armed Forces. None of this is, in and of itself, necessarily wrong.

It bothers me to some degree that Memorial Day will be commemorated in churches on Sunday for two reasons. First, the Church as a whole and the church in its local context should never be construed with a national identity. Yes, my local church is located in the United States, and yes, the majority of our members are Americans (save me, I think). But this national distinction is temporal and relatively insignificant--it means we hold a piece of paper that establishes our legal status as citizens in a country. As Christians gathered together in the Church, that citizenship means nothing. We are the body of Christ, where there is no distinction except that we are children of God gathered together at the foot of the cross (Gal. 3:28). Since we no longer live in the context of the old covenant and the Old Testament, to herald our earthly citizenship in our present context is to elevate that above our citizenship in the Kingdom of God. They are no longer one and the same.

Second, what Memorial Day proclaims more than anything else is that this country has worked and sacrificed to achieve its freedom. In a political and historical sense there is an element of truth in this. But this message gets distorted in a couple of ways. First, it fails to acknowledge above all where that freedom comes from. It comes only by the providence and sovereign ordinances of God. Armies and governments did not achieve it on their own. They were used as instruments of God in creating and establishing what America (and any other nation, for that matter) is today. Further, it ultimately fails to acknowledge what freedom actually is. Freedom is not the ability to vote, the ability to shop wherever you want, the ability to own property and to have liberty of speech. Freedom rightly understood is only found in Jesus Christ, and is nothing less than the victory over sin that he has won for us. We have been freed from our bondage to the kingdom of Satan and are now free citizens in the kingdom of God. Any other notion of freedom is secondary.

Of course, I've never been to a Memorial Day service at a church, so I don't know what to expect. And I do not want to stereotype based on the demographics of the church and this particular geographical area of the country. I may be surprised, I may be disappointed. It would not be fair for me to pass judgment at this point. And, to be clear, this says nothing of my thankfulness for those who have served or are enlisted in the service right now. I am happy they have chosen to do so and will gladly remember those who gave their lives in doing so. Also, I have no problem with a balanced patriotism so long as the recognition is there that all good things come from God, and from Him alone. Certainly the United States is a good country, and a great place to live. But it is only so because of God's grace and provision. Nothing we have ever accomplished or won has been without his guiding hand. I just don't want a service of worshiping God to turn into a service of worshiping country. Let us recognize that, and then we can sing with the sons of Korah:

Clap your hands, all you nations;
shout to God with cries of joy.
How awesome is the LORD Most High,
the great King over all the earth!
He subdued nations under us,
peoples under our feet.
He chose our inheritance for us,
the pride of Jacob, whom he loved.
God has ascended amid shouts of joy,
the LORD amid the sounding of trumpets.
Sing praises to God, sing praises;
sing praises to our King, sing praises.
For God is the King of all the earth;
sing to him a psalm of praise.
God reigns over the nations;
God is seated on his holy throne.
The nobles of the nations assemble
as the people of the God of Abraham,
for the kings of the earth belong to God;
he is greatly exalted.

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In summary, Ben dislikes the following things about the traditional service:

1. It lacks true fellowship. He feels that most of the congregation fades back as a bunch of "lame ducks" while a couple of people lead them on in meaningless singing and sacramental practices, merely sitting and waiting for it to be over.
2. It lacks proper training. Says Ben, "The service teaches worthless traditions and anesthetizes the listeners." He finds little value in the traditional liturgical methods and preaching, and instead wants to allow much more room for the Holy Spirit to work. While there is some important stuff in theology, the most important thing is relationship with Jesus.
3. It lacks a proper understanding of worship. Routine practices throughout the service do not encompass the totality of worship. Ben sums up his understanding of worship by a confession of God as God and that our lives are to back up this confession.

The model I would choose...would be a big, collective service maybe once a month. There would be great music, video and various effects could be used, great teaching that incorporated talking about where the whole church was going as a body. It would be all about celebrating together as a big family. And it could very well be done in cooperation with several other churches (that sing the same tune, so to speak). But the Sunday service would no longer hold the dominant position it now has.

This post actually hit me in a sensitive spot. I can appreciate some of the things that Ben (and Barna) are saying, but growing up in a tradition that held to a high view of the Church, and now holding to a strong ecclesiology myself, this is difficult for me to swallow as a whole. Perhaps I have not had the negative experiences with the traditional Sunday service that Ben has--in fact, I look forward every week to be able to gather for worship. But this idea is not uncommon anymore; books like Dan Kimball's They Like Jesus but Not the Church have popped up all over the place, and the assumption for leaders attempting to make the faith relevant for the younger generations is that there is no longer a place for the Church as it has been conceived throughout history.

I'm still processing thoughts about this, and it's been over a week since Ben posted about this issue. I'm curious as to what you think of it all. Be sure to read Ben's post in its entirety, as I've only hit on the key points here. Once you've done so, I'd be very interested to know how you'd respond to him and the issue in general.

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"There is an inborn urge in every person to worship. If we don't worship God we will find something else to worship: job, family, money, a sport, ourselves."

-- Rick Warren, in The Purpose-Driven Church

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