Is Our Worship Adequately Triune?

By Robert E. Webber

The confusion over worship today runs so deep that some have lost the sense of the relationship between worship and truth. For example, I attended a conference where we sang the chorus, “Father I adore you,” and then the second verse, “Jesus, I adore you.” Our singing ended without the third verse, “Spirit, I adore you.” When the leaders of the conference were asked, “Why didn’t you sing the third verse?” the answer was straight forward and without apology. “We don’t worship the Holy Spirit.” Unfortunately this example of the failure to comprehend basic Christian truth and how it corresponds with worship is altogether too pervasive in the evangelical community.

A phrase in the early church speaks to this concern—lex orandi, lex credendi, est. (The rule of prayer is the rule of faith.) How we pray or how we worship forms how we believe. If our worship is not Trinitarian, we will not pass down a Trinitarian faith, and eventually this fundamental doctrine of the Christian faith will be altered or lost. Therefore, I raise the question, “Is our worship adequately triune?”

It is well to remember how worship from its very beginning was rooted in the confession of God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. One has only to study the liturgical sources found in the New Testament and the worship literature of the early church. Consider, for example, the Trinitarian nature of the doxologies, benedictions, hymns, creedal statements, baptismal form, the early church literature of the rule of faith, the Apostles Creed, the Nicene Creed and the structure of the Eucharistic prayers. These Trinitarian confessions regarding God were formed in the worship of the church and handed down as the living tradition of faith in the liturgies of the church. Triune worship has been attested to by time, by the confessions of the Reformation, and still stands as an essential confession of the faith. It is not that our worship should include statements of the Trinity, but that the very structure and substantive essence of our worship is triune.

This Trinitarian essence of worship relates to the biblical teaching that God is both transcendent and immanent. The transcendence is the unknown essence of God which relates to God the Father as the source of the Godhead. The immanence of God is related to the knowledge we have of God revealed in history and incarnate in Jesus Christ and to the immediate experience of God by the power of the Holy Spirit. My article is therefore limited to a brief excursion into the interrelationship between the very essence of worship and the structure of worship. I suggest that while the whole of our worship is Trinitarian, the gathering is oriented toward the Father (praise), the Word toward the Son (proclamation), and Communion toward the Spirit (symbol).

Father Worship: The Language Of Praise

The Arians who were the major opponents of the Trinity in the fourth century were characterized by the saying, “I know God as he is known to himself.” St. John Chrysostom, the fourth-century bishop of Constantiople wrote that it “is an impertinence to say that he who is beyond the apprehension of even the higher powers can be comprehended by us earthworms or compassed and comprised by the weak forces of our understanding.” [1] In his five discourses on the incomprehensibility of God (De Incomprehensibili) Chrysostom, asserts that “he insults God who seeks to apprehend his essential being.” [2] When God, he argued, is incomprehensible in his works, how much more is he incomprehensible in his essential nature? And if God is unknown in his transcendent majesty, even to the Cherubim and Seraphim, how much more unknown is God to humanity? [3]

The notion of God’s incomprehensibility is certainly attested to in Scripture. The visions of God like that of Isaiah (6:1–6), Daniel (10:5–8), and John (Revelation 4–5) speak in the language of poetry and metaphor, not in propositions that can be dissected and understood. Paul speaks of God as unapproachable light (1 Timothy 6:6) and, in the great doxological cry to the Romans, Paul cries, “O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements, and his ways past finding out” (Romans 11:33 KJV). God’s transcendence and otherness is worshiped not in propositions which we understand, but in the doxological language of praise which is beyond our full grasp.

Throughout history history this sense of the incomprehensibility of God is clearly expressed in worship. We find it in the great words of the Gloria in Excelsis Deo, the Te Deum, the Kyrie, and the Sanctus. We also find it in the great prayers of the church. Consider, for example, the opening words of the anaphora of the liturgy of St. John Chrysostom that dates back to the fourth century:

O truly existing one, Master, Lord, God almighty and adorable Father, how right it is, and befitting the majesty of your holiness, to praise you, to sing to you, to bless you, to worship you, and to glorify you. You alone are truly God.... You are without beginning, invisible, incomprehensible, indescribable, changeless. 

... You are praised by the angels, the arch angels, the thrones, the dominions, the principalities, the authorities, the powers and the many-eyed cherubim ... singing, proclaiming, shouting the hymn of victory: Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord of Hosts! Heaven and earth are filled with your glory.

Father worship, I contend, evokes the sense of God’s mystery and our response of awe, wonder, and reverence. In this language of the numinous we admit “before God becomes for us a rationality, absolute reason, a personality, a moral will, he is the wholly nonrational and ‘other,’ the being of sheer mystery and marvel.” [4] While the mystery of God’s otherness may be expressed throughout the text of a worship service, a primary place where this aspect of worship may be expressed in the structure or order of worship is in the gathering. The processional hymn symbolizes our journey into the presence of the ineffable God whom we address in an act of praise and a confession of our sin. Our appropriate response to these acts of worship done in the presence of the Holy One who has called us to gather can only be described in terms like that of the Mysterium Tremendum, for we stand in the presence of the Father, the source of all being. In his awesome wholly otherness the only possible response is to fall before him and offer the only response we can make, a language of praise.

Son Worship: The Language Of Proclamation

While we confess we worship one God, we recognize God in three persons. For this reason, we are able to distinguish the revelatory work of God in history culminating in the incarnation, the Word made flesh (John 1:14). Unlike the mystery of God’s otherness, the work of God in history is knowable. While we don’t confess to know everything about God’s revelatory presence in history, we do acknowledge that our worship of God in this instance lies in the realm of intelligibility.

The eastern church Fathers summarized God’s work in history with the three words—”creation—incarnation—recreation” —whereas the western church has used the words—” creation—fall—redemption.” While there are different slants to these theologies, what is common to them is the biblical record of Creation and the Fall. Also, in common to them is the account of how God initiated a relationship with Abraham, called a people into being in Israel, became incarnate in Jesus, was crucified, buried and resurrected to forgive sin and overcome death. He ascended into heaven and established the church by the gift of the Spirit to witness to the dethroning of the powers and principalities. He now sits at the right hand of God to intercede for us continually, and will return to restore the created order where his shalom will rule forever and ever in the new heavens and the new earth.

In current language this litany is called the Christian metanarrative (meta—with; narrative—story). Christians are characterized by a particular story which we confess to be not just our story, but even in the face of a pluralistic world, the story for all people.

This story is the good news (evangelion). In worship we signify it (leiturgia); in evangelism we proclaim it (kerygma); in fellowship we experience it (koinonia); in our ministry to each other and in our service to others we live it (diaconia). It is the very spiritual heartbeat of who we are.

In worship (leiturgia) the work of the church is to proclaim God’s work in history, to be transformed by it in the present, and because of it to have hope in the coming of the new heavens and the new earth. This story forms us as a community, gives shape to our ethic, and makes us an eschatological people (not just a people who have an eschatology).

Common images of the narrative of God’s activity in history and the creation of a community called to proclaim God’s action, to be shaped by it, and to live in it are found in the New Testament descriptions of the worshiping communities such as Acts 2:42–47 and 1 Corinthians 12–14. We are admonished not to forsake worship, but to gather to exhort each other to good works (Hebrews 10:25). This worship is for the edification of the saints (Ephesians 4:12). It has to do with the information of God’s revelation which is not mere knowledge for the sake of knowledge, but the record of God’s truth for guidance, wisdom, and a life that pleases God and brings glory to his name. This metanarrative, which is the stuff of public worship, shapes our personal worship so that all of life is a “living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God” (Romans 12:1).

History attests to the significant role given to the worship of the Son in public worship. Sermons, hymns, choruses, prayers, litanies, Eucharistic prayers, anthems, and the like, sing, proclaim, enact and extol God’s work of creating the world, God’s involvement in history to save the world, and God’s promise to complete his work. This is the Missio Dei that worship signifies to the glory of God. While it is found everywhere in worship, it primarily dominates the service of the Word.

Spirit Worship: The Language Of Symbol

While Father worship evokes mystery and Son worship proclaims a knowable narrative, Spirit worship is apprehended primarily through the concept of presence. We encounter the very essence of God in the experience of the Spirit through the language of symbol.

We confess, of course, that God is present everywhere by virtue of creation. But we also acknowledge that the presence of God is made available in greater intensity through visible and tangible sign. In the Old Testament God was present on the mountain, then in the Tabernacle, especially in the Holy of Holies, at the ark, between the cherubim.

In the New Testament God becomes present in the Word made flesh. Jesus is the image of God (Colossians 1:15). What is invisible has been made flesh. God has been “earthed” and concretized into our historical reality. The God who cannot be contained in all the universe is voluntarily confined in the womb of woman, was born of her, and participated in our earthly life constricted by time, space and history. This incarnational theology affirms that the God who is immaterial communicates to us through materiality. Thus the enfleshed God continues to be present to us by the power of the Spirit in visible and tangible signs.

This God, we confess, dwells within the Church. God’s people are the temple of the Holy Spirit. Consequently the primary focus of God’s presence in worship is in the symbol of the assembled body. When we gather to worship we become the actualized Church, the body of Christ, mystically united with the head of the Church, Christ. And in this assembly, the priesthood of all believers, there are distinct visible signs of God’s presence—tangible ways that Spirit worship happens.

Historically the church has acknowledged the communication of the Spirit in the visible signs of Word, ministry, and sacraments. The Spirit attends the reading and preaching of the Word, the Spirit empowers the minister, the Spirit communicates through water, bread, wine, and oil (to name the chief visible signs). For this reason the act of gathering, the presence and work of the ordained pastor, the reading and preaching of the Word, the rite of baptism, the celebration of the Eucharist, the anointing of oil, and the hands raised in benediction are not empty symbols. They are performative symbols that communicate the reality they represent. While these signs of Spirit communication are present in all of worship, they are primarily present in the concrete tactile signs of bread and wine.

Conclusion

In this brief article I have not been able to fully develop the concept that the very essence and structure of worship is triune. But I have attempted to provide enough information to point in a direction that deserves further reflection.

The historic structure of worship is the simple fourfold pattern of gathering in the presence of God, hearing God speak to us through the Word, offering praise and thanksgiving at the table of the Lord, and going forth into the world to love and serve the Lord.

Historically this fourfold pattern is replete with references to the Trinity. Triune worship is found in the doxological praise of the gloria in excelsis deo, the Psalms, and with triune praise; the sermon begins “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” the creed is triune, and the prayers invoke the name of the Trinity. The structure of the prayer of thanksgiving at the table of the Lord praises the Father, thankfully remembers the work of the Son, and invokes the presence of the Holy Spirit. And finally, the people are sent forth to love and serve the Lord with the promise that it is God—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—that goes before them.

My point is that while the Triune God is praised throughout all our worship, the very structure of the fourfold pattern is essentially triune and offers worship to God in three languages of worship. We approach the mystery of the transcendent Father as we gather in God’s presence in language of praise; we proclaim the story of God’s saving action in history culminating in the work of Christ in the service of the Word through the language of intelligence; and in the service of Communion we are encountered by the Holy Spirit through the language of symbol.

I suggest that in this time when pastors and people are influenced by the dumbing down of worship to reach outward to the unchurched, that we be reminded that worship is upward. All our worship is directed toward the Triune God who created and redeemed the fallen in the Missio Dei and gave us the Spirit through whom a relationship with the Triune God is established. This relationship, initiated and sustained by God, is expressed in the language of praise (Father), the language of proclamation (Son) and the language of symbol (Spirit). So, as I began, I end with the question: “Is our worship adequately triune?”

About the Author

Robert E. Webber holds the position of William R. and Geraldyne B. Myers Professor of Ministry at Northern Baptist Seminary, Lombard, Illinois. He is the author and editor of over twenty books including The Worship Phenomenon, Ancient-Future Faith, Worship Old and New, Common Roots and The Biblical Foundations of Christian Worship (seven volumes). He also directs the Institute for Worship Studies. This is his first contribution to Reformation & Revival Journal.

Notes

1. Rudolph Otto, The Idea of the Holy (London: Oxford University Press, 1958), Appendixes.
2. Idea of the Holy, 180.
3. Idea of the Holy, 180.
4. Idea of the Holy, 193.

The Book Of Revelation And The Subject Of Worship

By Tom Wells

In a previous article on worship, from the book of Hebrews, I pointed to two different ways a Bible book may affect our worship. First, it may give us materials for worship. Hebrews does that by lengthy descriptions of the glories of Christ. That is helpful in worshiping the Triune God. Second, a book may discuss worship. Hebrews does that by describing the Old Testament system of sacrificial worship.

When we come to Revelation we find much the same thing. The book shows us the persons of the Trinity, the very thing we need to admire and worship them. More than that, however, it shows us scenes of worship. Though often symbolic, these scenes (unlike those in Hebrews) are directly relevant to New Covenant believers. Worship, then, is very much a part of the book of Revelation.

Materials For Worship In Revelation

Descriptions of the Trinity appear already in the introduction (1:1–8). God is the one “who is and who was and who is to come” (1:4; cf v.8), an echo of his eternity. The name is based on God’s self-revelation when he was about to intervene in Israel’s history (Exodus 3:14). In adding the words, “who is to come,” John again shows God as active in history. There is no suggestion that God stands aloof from his world. His activity, however, is seen in the works of his agent, the Holy Spirit—he is alluded to in the phrase “the seven spirits who are before his throne” [1] —and in the works of a further agent, “Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead and the ruler of the kings of the earth. [He is the one] who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father...” (1:5–6).

This summary of the person and work of Christ is loaded with good things for the believer, things that prompt worship. He faithfully witnessed to this fallen world in leaving it by death. That was not his last word, however. He rose again and now has all authority in heaven and earth (Matthew 28:18). Not even the kings of the earth are excepted. He holds them in his hands. We are reminded that the New Testament commands us to honor the kings of the earth (Romans 13:7; 1 Peter 2:17). How much more worthy is he of our worship and praise!

Next John turns from the bearing of the Lord Jesus’ activity on the world generally to its effect on his people. Gripped by awe, he drops description and breaks out in adoration: “To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen” (1:5b–6). And he is not done! He calls both the world and Christ’s people to a further glimpse of Jesus’ glory: “Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail. So it is to be. Amen” (1:7). O come, let us adore him! We must see God and Christ to worship them, and here, in his introduction, John sets them before us.

We turn next to the first vision in the book. John opens with a description of his circumstances as he wrote (1:9–10). He was an exile on Patmos when he heard behind him a loud voice, a voice like a trumpet, commissioning him to write to seven churches (1:11). He turned to see who spoke (1:12a).

[O]n turning I saw seven golden lampstands and in the midst of the lampstands I saw one like the Son of Man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash across his chest. His head and his hair were white as white wool, white as snow; his eyes were like burnished brass, refined as in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of many waters. In his right hand he held seven stars, and from his mouth came a sharp, two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining with full force. (1:12b–16)

What John sees is clothed in symbols. There is a striking figure “like the Son of Man.” John is dazzled and frightened, and reacts accordingly:

When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. But he placed his right hand on me, saying, Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and Hell. Now write what you have seen, what is, and what is to take place after this. As for the mystery of the seven stars that you saw in my right hand, and the seven golden lampstands: the seven stars are the angels of the seven churches, and the seven lampstands are the seven churches. (1:17–20)

John sees Jesus, but not the Jesus of mere human weakness and frailty. This Jesus shares the endowments of the Ancient of Days of Daniel 7:9, yet he is distinct. He is “one like a son of man” (Daniel 7:13, margin) who comes with the clouds of heaven. And he comes for judgment, as we see from other references in Revelation to the sword that proceeds from his mouth (2:12, 16; 19:11–16, 21). A fearful vision indeed! No wonder John fainted. What a blessed word comes to him: “Do not be afraid!” This may, in fact, be a key to the entire sight.

“Fear not,” for your fears are groundless. You are affrighted at your own mercies. The thing you fear is the very thing that brings to you salvation.... That was indeed a vision of matchless and overpowering glory. But with all this awful and impressive grandeur, it was only a presentation in a single view, of the grounds of confidence and joyful hope which flow from infinite power and wisdom and love. So that in these very things John had the brightest evidence of his own and the church’s eternal security and triumph. [2]

What looks to be a call to collapse proves to be an occasion for worship!

The letters to the churches in chapters two and three give us materials for worship as well. As the Lord Jesus speaks there, we see his godly attributes. His knowledge encompasses everything about the churches (see “I know,” 2:2, 9, 13, 19; 3:1, 8, 15). We see his power in various ways. He holds the stars that represent the angels of the churches [3] in his hands (2:1). He can remove the lampstands that represent the churches from their places (2:5), along with other acts of judgment (2:16, 22–23; 3:3, 9, 16). And he has power and determination to reward his faithful followers (2:7, 11, 17, 26–28; 3:5, 12, 21). He is, in fact, “the one who searches mind and hearts, and [who] will give to each of you as your works deserve” (2:23). In adopting this description of Yahweh from Jeremiah 17:10 and elsewhere (cf. Psalm 7:9; Proverbs 24:12 and Jeremiah 11:20), the Lord gathers up the themes of his own knowledge and power for judgment and reward in one striking word.

Skipping for the moment chapters 4 and 5, we come to the beginning of the record of the seven seals. Here we see Father and Son in the act of bringing judgment. We meet their agents in the form of four horses and riders (6:1–8). The agents are the symbols of the powers that God and Christ hold to bring the sweep of their wrath across an unbelieving world. In quick succession they conquer men (6:1–2), create social chaos (6:3–4), produce famine (6:5–6) and unleash further death-dealing forces on humanity (6:7–8). This is magnificent power indeed, breathtaking and awe-inspiring! It reminds us of God’s earlier judgment on Jerusalem, where he speaks of “my four deadly acts of judgment, sword, famine, wild animals, and pestilence, to cut off humans and animals from it” (Ezekiel 14:21).

But is it justice? The fifth seal gives a partial answer to that question:

When he opened the fifth seal, I saw under the altar the souls of those who had been slaughtered for the word of God and for the testimony they had given; they cried out with a loud voice, “Sovereign Lord, holy and true, how long will it be before you judge and avenge our blood on the inhabitants of the earth?” (6:9–10).

This glimpse of a different scene reminds us that the judge of all the earth will do right. His people have suffered at the hands of a godless world. They cry to him for relief. While his martyrs rest from their labors (6:11), the sixth seal shows that righteous judgment rolls on. Earth and heaven join forces to display God’s might (6:12–14). Men of all ranks tremble.

Then the kings of the earth, the magnates and the generals, the rich and the powerful, and everyone, slave and free, hid in the caves and among the rocks of the mountains, calling to the mountains and rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of the one seated on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb; for the great day of their wrath has come, and who is able to stand? (6:15–17).

Here is the recognition of grandeur that we would call worship if it came from men in appreciation of the God behind the spectacle. But it does not. It is left to us who believe to stop our mouths and bow our heads in wonder.

The judgments that fall in Revelation come in series. When the Lamb opens the seventh seal we find seven angels with seven trumpets (8:1–6). The blasts of their trumpets bring further dire judgments (8:7–9:21). Nor is that all. Seven angels with “seven golden bowls full of the wrath of God” appear (15:7). They pour out their bowls (16:1–20). So severe are they that mountains and islands run from them, and men pay tribute to their devastating effect by cursing the God who sends them (16:20b).

Even this does not exhaust the subject of judgment in Revelation. (See 17:1–18:24; 19:1–20:10, and the climactic judgment on men, 20:11–15). Each of these displays the glory of God and of the Lamb. Each prompts wonder and admiration and worship from the people of God. But it is time to turn to the scenes of worship.

Descriptions Of Worship In Revelation

If Revelation is a book of judgment-and it is-it is also a book rich in descriptions of worship. This is in keeping with the purpose of the book, to show that God is sovereign in what appears to be a chaotic world, and to show that his people are safe. [4] As the light dawns on these truths, men and angels rejoice, extolling the glory of God.

The first extended description of worship falls in two parts in chapters 4 and 5. Chapter four shows us the throne of God in a scene reminiscent of Isaiah 6. Around the throne are twenty-four elders dressed in white and seated on their own thrones (4:4). Also there are “four living creatures” with animal and (in one case) human features (4:6–8). Neither the elders nor the creatures are explained to us, but their function is clear, to worship the creator God. He is the focus. The creatures continually celebrate the holiness of God in familiar words, “Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty, who was and is and is to come” (cf. Isaiah 6:3; Revelation 1:8). In praising God’s holiness they recognize both his purity and his distinction or separateness from his creation. This does not mean he has abandoned his world, but that his own being transcends it.

John’s readers lived in a world (as we do) where evil was rampant and apparently all-powerful. Goodness was weak and frustrated and ineffectual. But John’s very first vision of heaven shows that these appearances are deceptive.... Our God is good. And he is the Lord God Almighty. Real power is not with evil, but with God who is holy. Nor is this a passing phase. God is he who was, and is, and is to come.... God’s power and eternal being ensure that his holiness will triumph over all evil. [5]

The twenty-four elders join the celebration by ascribing worthiness [6] to God. “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they existed and were created” (4:11). As creator, God deserves recognition and admiration. If this is seen to be true in heaven, we too must acknowledge it by our own appreciation and praise. We may adopt these very words as our own.

When we turn to chapter 5 the scene focuses in two senses on the right hand of God. There is something in God’s right hand. More than that, there is someone at his right hand, one who shares the rule with him (cf. 3:21).

Then I saw in the right hand of the one seated on the throne a scroll written on the inside and on the back, sealed with seven seals; and I saw a mighty angel proclaiming with a loud voice, “Who is worthy to open the scroll and break its seals?” And no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth was able to open the scroll or to look into it. And I began to weep bitterly because no one was found worthy to open the scroll or to look into it. Then one of the elders said to me, “Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals” (5:1–5).

Again we are faced with symbolism that is not explained. What precisely is the scroll with seven seals? Is it a deed? Is it a covenant, or some third or fourth thing? The commentators do not agree among themselves, but we need not be put off by this. The scene sets a Lamb before us, and the following chapters show him opening the seals and bringing history as we know it to its end by judgment and the introduction of a new heaven and a new earth. These central matters arise from his worthy work and will lead to “blessing and honor and glory and might” being ascribed to him and to God “forever and ever” (5:13)!

A closer look at the Lamb shows us how his work could lead to such earth-shaking events. As Lion of the Tribe of Judah and Root of David (5:5), he is the Messiah who came as conqueror to establish God’s kingship in the earth. He is also, however, the Lamb who has been slaughtered. Already in Isaiah 53 Yahweh revealed that misunderstanding, oppression and death were the conditions of his conquest, but now that is behind him. The universe acknowledges his worthiness.

The lamb receives the worship of the heavenly attendants just as God had in chapter 4, but now the circle of worship expands, so that every creature in heaven and on earth and under the earth and in the sea worships “the One who is seated on the throne and the lamb” (verse 13). [7]

Why do men and creatures flock to this celebration? Because his slaughter was not in vain: By his death he has transformed humanity and history in preparation for the new heavens and earth.” [B]y your blood you ransomed for God saints from every tribe and language and people and nation; you have made them to be a kingdom and priests serving our God, and they will reign on the earth” (5:9–10). Here are the grounds of his worship. And here is its content: “Worthy is the Lamb that was slaughtered to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing” (5:12)! May God give us the grace to join this song now and in eternity!

Chapter 7 contains a third scene of worship (7:9–17). In its early verses (7:9–12) it reproduces something of the praise we have met in chapter 5. (The repetition emphasizes how appropriate it is to praise God and Christ for their mighty acts repeatedly.) Then John introduces a sight in which a heavenly being asks him a question.

Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” I said to him, “Sir, you are the one who knows.” Then he said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple” (7:13–15b).

We are reminded by this description of the words of the Psalmist: “Let the redeemed of the Lord say so, those he redeemed from trouble” (Psalm 102:2). It is appropriate for all the creatures of the earth to praise the Lord, but none have more reason than those whose robes have been made white in the blood of the Lamb. But the elder is not done. He recites the further benefits of the redeemed, for which they praise their God. The language mixes figures with small glimpses of future reality. God will shelter them, secure them from hunger and thirst, and keep them from suffering any scorching heat (7:15c–16). In other words, they will experience the blessings of Isaiah 49:10 and Psalm 23, “for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life “(7:17a-b). Their quality of life is summarized finally in another figure that reminds us of the divine intention of good for his people: “God will wipe every tear from their eyes” (7:17c). Salvation from the penalty for sin will be followed by spiritual prosperity forever. But these promises belong to all believers; they are part of our hope. Here again is a call to us to worship as they worship.

The blowing of the seventh trumpet in chapter 11 brings us to another scene of worship celebrating the kingship of God through his agent, the Messiah. In verse fifteen God and Messiah appear together in a way reminiscent of Psalm 2. There they contemplated the destruction of their future enemies. Here they are congratulated by loud voices from heaven for having finished their task. The scene is proleptic, anticipating the victory which will come to pass quickly. God’s kingdom has come at last. He has exercised his great power in the midst of rebellion:

“The nations raged, but your wrath has come, and the time for judging the dead, for rewarding your servants, the prophets and saints and all who fear your name, both small and great, and for destroying those who destroy the earth” (11:18). How soon would all this happen? Heaven seems to resound with the answer: “Then God’s temple in heaven was opened, and the ark of his covenant was seen within his temple, and there were flashes of lightning, rumblings, peals of thunder, an earthquake, and heavy hail” (11:19). Can the day be far off?

The theme of worship on the occasions of God’s judgments appears through much of the rest of the book (12:10–12; 15:3–4; 16:5–7; 19:1–4). It is unnecessary to discuss all of these, but chapter 12 deserves special attention. The chapter opens (12:1–6) with a highly symbolic vision of the birth of the Messiah, our Lord Jesus, from the godly remnant of Israel under the figure of a woman. [8] The dragon, Satan, prepares to destroy him, but is foiled by God’s activity. Then follows an account of war in heaven in which Satan and his angels were cast down to earth (12:7–9). This leads to worship by an unnamed voice from heaven:

Now have come the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God and the authority of his Messiah, for the accuser of our comrades has been thrown down, who accuses them day and night before our God. But they have conquered him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, for they did not cling to life even in the face of death (12:10–11).

Several things call for comment here. First, the note of successful judgment on the part of God is clearly sounded here. Whether we think of the book’s bearing on men and women of the first century or our own century or the final century, we must remember the aptness of this theme. Though severity differs from age to age and place to place, the church is called to suffering for Christ in every age. In all her perils her comfort lies in the sovereignty and wisdom of God. That lay behind the word to John in 1:17–18, “Do not be afraid; I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and see, I am alive forever and ever; and I have the keys of Death and Hades.” God is still in charge; Christ shares his throne. The hour may be dark, but our enemies will be defeated.

Second, the power that lies behind our enemies, Satan himself, is in the hands of God to do with as he pleases. Third, “the blood of the Lamb and ... the word of their testimony,” leading even to martyrdom, is sufficient protection in the bleakest hour. His blood (=sacrificial death) covers the sins of his people while they remain loyal to him.

For all these reasons the worshiping voice from heaven calls us to join the chorus of appreciation, thanksgiving and praise to God.

The mood changes in the final two scenes of worship in Revelation (19:5–8; 21:3–4), which celebrate the final union of God and his people. Let’s look more closely at the first of these.

And from the throne came a voice saying, “Praise our God, all you his servants, and all who fear him, small and great.” Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunderpeals, crying out, “Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his bride is ready; to her it has been granted to be clothed with fine linen, bright and pure”—for the fine linen is the righteous deeds of the saints (19:5–8).

As important as judgment was and is, it is preliminary to the final phase of redemption. Judgment casts aside the unsuitable fish (Matthew 13:47–50) and blows away the chaff (Matthew 3:12; 13:30), but that is not the goal of history; God’s union with his people is.

Heaven rejoices over this union, and so must we who are the bride at this wedding. The mark of a joyous wedding feast is the mutual admiration of bride and bridegroom. What God sees in us is what he has put in us, but what we see in him is what has been natively his forever, his love and compassion and mercy over his people. Are there greater themes to celebrate than these? O, come let us adore him!

Summing Up

The study of worship can never be an academic matter, It involves our lives at their deepest points, our relations to God. At the same time, we must see that a detached, academic view of the subject is inevitable if our hearts are not fixed on God. That is why prayer and praise (worship) go hand in hand. The proper response to a study like this is to cry out to God for a fuller measure of his grace. If he grants that prayer, we will admire and worship and adore him. And if we are wise, we will let what we have found in this study of Revelation and worship reform our acts of praise and thanksgiving to our God.

About the Author

Tom Wells is one of the pastors of The King’s Chapel, West Chester, Ohio. He is the author of numerous books, including Come to Me, Come Home Forever, God Is King, Christian: Take Heart, A Price for a People, A Vision for Missions and Faith: The Gift of God. He is a conference speaker and a regular contributor to Reformation & Revival Journal.

Notes

1. See the standard commentaries for discussions of the Holy Spirit in this verse. While the Spirit is merely mentioned here, later passages cite his activity. In chapters two and three he is repeatedly described as the one who speaks to the churches (2:7, 11, 17, 29; 3:1, 6, 13, 22), evidently as the agent of the Lord Jesus. See also 14:13 and 22:17.
2. James B. Ramsey, Revelation (Edinburgh, Scotland: Banner of Truth, repr. 1977), 61–62.
3. Who these angels are has been the subject of extensive debate. Many have taken them to be pastors or other representatives of the seven congregations since the word “angel” can also mean “messenger.” For other options see the discussion in G. R. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, repr. 1983), 68–70. He leans toward the view that the angels are the “heavenly counterparts of the earthly congregations,” a complex idea requiring a good deal of explanation, which he proceeds to give it.
4. See the standard commentaries for discussions of who God’s people are in Revelation. Some think they are men of the first century, the preterist view. Others think they are believers in the end times, the futurist view. George Eldon Ladd in A Commentary on the Revelation (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1972), 14, wrote: “[W]e conclude that the correct method of interpreting the Revelation is a blending of the preterist and futurist methods. The beast is both Rome and the eschatological Antichrist—and, we might add, any demonic power which the church must face in her entire history.”
5. Leon Morris, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries, The Book of Revelation (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1969), 91.
6. In English worship and worthiness derive from the same root: to worship is to declare someone’s worth. Though the Greek words do not have any etymological connection, verses ten and eleven reflect this intersection of ideas.
7. Richard Bauckham, God Crucified (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1999), 62.
8. It is often assumed that the woman in chapter twelve is thought to be the virgin Mary by the Roman Catholic Church. A footnote in a modern English Catholic New Testament, however, reads as follows: “12, 1: A woman: this woman is not the Blessed Virgin, for the details of the prophecy do not fit her. The prophecy pictures the Church of the Old and New Covenants.... By accommodation the Church applies this verse to the Blessed Virgin.” The quotation is from the so-called “Confraternity Edition,” i.e., The New Testament of Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (Patterson, New Jersey: St. Anthony Guild Press, 1941), 721.

“Remember" And Worship: The Mandate And The Means

By Tim Ralston

The Bible paints vivid images of a universe wholly involved in divine worship. So God’s people throughout history have valued corporate worship as their crowning work, believing that “The heart of the Christian life is to be found in the act of public worship.” [1]

By the mid-twentieth century the crown had so tarnished that A. W. Tozer spoke of it as the “missing jewel.” [2] His prophetic voice inspired many to pursue the gem. Worship became a priority as books, conferences, and programs sprang up offering recovery strategies. Many of these new stones lacked the symmetry and purity of the original. Sometimes they were only a paste imitation that appealed to the senses but lacked enduring value. Much was made of Jesus’ words that true worship must be offered “in spirit and truth” (John 4:23–24). Populist teachers said Jesus disdained formal structure and gave us freedom to worship in whatever ways were culturally convenient and personally meaningful. With no prescription and only Acts’ descriptions, it became fashionable to argue that there is no authoritative biblical pattern for the corporate worship of the church.

Today, however, a consensus is growing among evangelical scholars that Jesus did give his disciples a basic paradigm for their formal gatherings. Because the model assumed an understanding of Old Testament theology, was practiced by all the churches, and rarely experienced problems demanding formal correction, explicit prescriptions in the New Testament Epistles were unnecessary. The form was practiced universally to the sixteenth century, at which time all the Protestant Reformers affirmed it. Its demise resulted from theological reaction, pious neglect, and the pragmatic spirit characteristic of American Christianity.

In Spirit And Truth

If we look more closely at Jesus’ words to the Samaritan woman, it becomes clear that he was not eliminating issues of form in worship. In the first century, the culture had given the Greek verb, “worship” (proskuneo), the connotation of taking a religious pilgrimage to a place. [3] When the Samaritan women asked where she must go, Jesus corrected her misperception that “place” alone fulfilled God’s concerns.

“Spirit and truth” was an affirmation of Old Testament worship priorities. “Truth” denotes worship that conforms to a true knowledge of God offered in the pattern he prescribes. “In spirit” denotes worship qualified by personal integrity before God and a full engagement in the offering (and is not a reference to the Holy Spirit). [4] Hence, “spirit and truth” resonate Old Testament priorities for true worship. [5] Jesus’ words do eliminate all geographical limits (John 4:21), but such limits were not universally applied in the Old Testament, either. At times God did accept individual sacrifice offered apart from the Tabernacle/Temple where God’s Spirit resided. But today with the indwelling Holy Spirit, believers who gather for worship form his corporate dwelling place on earth (analogous to the Temple), which qualifies them to offer acceptable corporate worship. Jesus’ remarks redirected the woman’s focus from external trappings to the true issues that lie behind all acceptable worship. In this context Jesus’ answer begged all questions of form.

Does this mean that there was no pattern to corporate worship offered by the Church? Early believers “performed the liturgy” (Acts 13:32), suggesting a highly organized corporate activity. [6] The formal structure of their gatherings is not described in detail, but there are suggestions as to their priorities, [7] which reveal that they were “far more concerned with the principles of worship and the spirit which motivates the offering of praise to God.” [8] In their treatments of Old Testament texts they saw themselves as part of a community like that foreseen by the Old Testament prophets. [9] Hence, their priorities and preaching followed those of the prophets, emphasizing a wholehearted pursuit of God and unqualified obedience to the obligations of his covenant with them. Their record is obscure on questions of form, but Paul indicates there was consensus about decorum in corporate worship (1 Corinthians 14:33).

Clearly the early believers shared a common biblical theology about corporate worship. The apparent absence of pattern in the New Testament does not mean that their worship had no common structure. Rather, this may suggest they assumed it was universal and that an astute reader of the Scriptures would have known the theology behind it (just as the New Testament often assumes a fuller appreciation of other Church priorities and practices). Therefore, the search for worship form must not be dominated by the reductionism that only distinguishes between prescription and description in the New Testament. It should strive to reconstruct the biblical theology that lies behind the New Testament record.

A Starting Point

The predominate language of worship in both the Old and New Testaments stresses “bowing down” in total submission to God as the one exercising power over the worshiper (hishtahavah and proskuneo) [10] and “serving” with an attitude of doing whatever God might ask of the worshiper (abad and latreuo). [11] Worship, whether public or private, begins as a formal statement of wholehearted obedience to God. Only those who obey God’s requirements for relationship with him are qualified to offer worship that God will accept. Participation in a covenant with God—and one’s obedience to God’s demands through that covenant—are prerequisites to acceptable worship. Sin, a sign of rebellion against God, disqualifies the offering. It transforms one’s confessions of submission and obedience into a lie.

The prerequisite of covenant relationship with God introduces a third concept: “remember” (zakar and mimneskomai). [12] A central theme of Old Testament covenant, it views a covenant relationship in three directions simultaneously. Looking to the past, one recalls the covenant’s inauguration, keeping in mind the nature of the relationship, its promises, and stipulations. In the present, it asks if the covenant responsibilities are being fulfilled and demands integrity of both parties. In the future, it anticipates God’s unfulfilled covenant promises and confidently expects their blessings. Remembrance permeates all Old Testament worship institutions, both seasonal (Exodus 13:3, 9) and Sabbath (Exodus 20:8). When tied to an action, it denotes an obligatory act of consecration to be repeated as a center of the gathering of God’s people. [13] Conversely, when one “forgets,” the relationship has been forfeited by a failure by one party to fulfill their part of the covenant. [14] The quintessential act of remembrance for the Jews was Passover.

Now consider the one, universal New Testament command to “remember.” In the Synoptic Gospels within the remembrance ethos of a Jewish Passover, Jesus gave his disciples a new rite involving sharing the bread and cup together, spoke of the “[new] covenant,” and then commanded them to “remember.” If his disciples understood their Old Testament, they would have wrestled with Jesus’ de facto definition of a central act for their formal regathering as a group, analogous to the festivals stipulated at the heart of Israel’s worship in which they were now participating.

Luke’s narrative confirms this suggestion. First, he describes the Upper Room scene: As the climax of his long journey to the cross nears, “when the hour was come ... [Jesus] reclined and the apostles with him” (Luke 22:14), then “taking bread [and] giving thanks, [he] broke, and gave it to them” (Luke 22:19). Then, only a few verses later, at the conclusion of his Emmaus story (Luke 24:13–35), Luke offers a striking parallel to the Upper Room: As evening approached “it happened that when he reclined with the disciples, taking bread he blessed it and breaking it he gave it to them” (Luke 24:30). The parallel suggests that Luke saw this scene as a re-enactment of the Upper Room event. This interpretation becomes sure upon the subsequent testimony of the two, “how [Jesus] was made known to them by the breaking of the bread” (Luke 24:35), as if the other disciples would find Jesus’ act very significant. In Luke’s second volume (Acts), the “breaking of bread” motif appears as a priority: believers “devoted themselves ... to the breaking of bread and prayers” (Acts 2:42) and met explicitly to do it (Acts 20:7, where it can be distinguished from their communal meal, 20:11). Luke presents the Lord’s Supper as a point of identity and worship for the disciples when they gathered. [15]

The Apostle Paul, Luke’s travelling companion, [16] presents a similar picture. His technical expression for church gathering (sunerchomai) [17] associates many corporate functions: mutual edification through the exercise of gift, discipline of individual believers, gathering of offerings, etc. But when focusing on specific issues raised by corporate worship (1 Corinthians 11:17–14:40), the first item addressed is the Lord’s Supper, where its improper celebration has disqualified all else that occurs (1 Corinthians 11:20). In addition, Paul’s well-constructed institution narrative has become the central text for teaching the rite, but his interpretation of the event is usually overlooked. The memorial command (“Do this in remembrance of me”) occurs twice, with both bread and cup (1 Corinthians 11:24–25). This repetition has no Synoptic parallel, indicating Paul stressed the Old Testament “remembrance” aspect of the act and its role in covenant renewal. [18]

Therefore, the absence of prescription concerning worship order in the New Testament has been assumed within the Old Testament remembrance theology used by Jesus to institute the Lord’s Supper, followed by his disciples, and taught by Paul. It denotes the celebration of the Lord’s Supper as a functional focus for worship gatherings.

After The New Testament

Sources confirm the centrality of the Lord’s Table to Christian worship after the New Testament. Christian leaders throughout the Roman Empire share this viewpoint. [19] Even the official report of Pliny, governor of Bythinia (C. 111–112 C.E.), to the Emperor Trajan describing Christian activities may support it. [20] Having “examined” Christians, he concludes that their primary gathering involved a “sacramentum.” This Latin term, usually rendered “vow,” was the Eastern church’s translation for the Greek word, “mystery”, which still is the technical term for the Lord’s Supper. Early Christians were reticent to reveal anything of it, fearing misinterpretation of the Eucharist as cannibalism by nonChristians (as it often was). Pliny’s prisoners under duress likely used this word to denote their weekly celebration of the Table. [21] For the next 1, 500 years there is no record of Sunday gathering of Christians that did not include the Lord’s Supper.

In summary, a properly understood biblical motif of remembrance in the Old Testament pinpoints divinely-commanded covenant practices which focused a community’s relationship with God and expressed their worship. When one moves to the New Testament, the command to “remember” for all Christians is associated exclusively by Christ himself with one corporate rite, the Lord’s Supper. According to biblical theology, this association argues he intended this act to be the organizing focus for his followers’ gatherings. Evidence from the New Testament and earliest post-biblical sources consistently show that their gatherings for corporate worship were arranged with this rite as a central element.

The Reformation And Beyond

Today the Lord’s Supper remains the focus of worship offered by all ancient forms of Christianity. Only denominations formed after the Protestant Reformation have lost it. How did those who profess to be most dependent upon the Scriptures neglect the biblical theology of remembrance and the priority of Lord’s Table? The loss occurred in three major stages. The first occurred during the Protestant Reformation itself. Its leaders united in teaching a weekly celebration of the Table as the heart of the church’s corporate worship. (This, in part, explains why its theology was such an important-and divisive-issue between them.) Unhappily, outside Germany, civil authorities forbade frequent communion, fearing that the spiritual responsibility demanded of weekly participation by an unprepared populace represented “too radical a change from the late-medieval practice of infrequent reception of the sacrament.” [22] Subsequent Reformed practices and elements of English Puritanism were fueled by an extremist rejection of Roman Catholicism that regarded a weekly Eucharist as “papist,” producing liturgical minimalism in their worship.

The move to America, westward expansion, and the chronic lack of ordained clergy made matters worse. Congregations sprang up served by non-ordained preachers who, because of their high regard for the sacraments, depended on itinerant ordained ministers to supervise their irregular celebration. For many the Eucharist was a rare event in church life, and this irregular pattern of celebration became the “norm” in subsequent church practice, even when clergy became available in sufficient numbers to allow resident ministry. [23]

The overwhelming effect of the Second Great Awakening completed its displacement. Originally a revival ended with a common baptism of converts (Saturday), followed by celebrations of the Lord’s Table according to the pattern of each congregation participating in the revival (Sunday). Under Charles Finney’s influence the revival emphasis shifted to the pattern and tools of successful conversion: preparatory music, an extended sermon, and a call to decision. The pragmatic evidence that revivalist services filled pews on the frontier gradually overwhelmed the worship convictions of worship traditions elsewhere. This service model became standard Sunday worship, [24] to be further strengthened by the Charismatic renewal emphasis. Ask the average person today to define corporate “worship” and you’ll hear, “The music,” or, perhaps, “The preaching.”

Recovering The Feast

Although most agree on the spiritual value of the Lord’s Supper, to include it as a central aspect of regular congregational worship meets many obstacles. One school of thought argues that “it destroys the welcoming environment that the church tries to create” and “can be celebrated in a side room after worship.” [25] This perspective denies the very teaching of the celebration’s role for Christian community. Others may object that giving it a regular place in worship will either require us to reduce something else, such as sermon length or number of songs, or uncomfortably extend the time of the service. These issues are legitimate, but basing our worship practices on fulfilling our preferences confronts us with an interesting spiritual dilemma. To act only as we want makes corporate worship the idolatry of our own desires, transforming our expression of submission to God’s will into the satisfaction of our own flesh.

Many wonder that a too-frequent repetition will make it mundane and less meaningful. On the one hand, the argument is transparent for its hypocrisy. We would never apply this standard to the sermon or the music. On the other hand, the objection reveals how little we understand of the themes, motifs, and theological implications taught by each celebration of the Lord’s Table.

Consider some of the possibilities. [26] As a memorial, the Lord’s Supper summarizes all we share together in God through our relationship with Christ. [27] An act of covenant renewal, it demands our recommitment to obedience before him, the strengthening of our faith and hope, and our unity with all believers (past and present) in the church universal.

As a Eucharist (the exclusive, technical term used by the church fathers), we give joyful thanks for God’s blessing upon and sustaining provision for his creation. Eating gratefully accepts “our daily bread” from his hands.

As Communion (koinonia) we share in Christ’s person and his people (1 Corinthians 10:16–17, 21), peace through our reconciliation with God and unity together in Christ (analogous to the Thanksgiving Offering). Eating affirms our equality in salvation, service, and gifts, and forsaking of all that threatens to fracture our unity as one people.

As an expression of sacrifice, we see the expansive nature of Christ’s atonement. Eating expresses our union with him, offering ourselves for the world in submission to God’s will as living witnesses to his character and his work.

As a mystery (a heretofore hidden work of God), we celebrate the wisdom of God (Ephesians 3:9–11; Colossians 1:27) and his Kingdom (Mark 4:11), our union with Christ through the Spirit, and the bonds uniting every member of Church throughout space and time (Ephesians 3:4–6; 5:32).

As a foretaste of eschatological banquet (Luke 22:15–18; 1 Corinthians 11:26), we look beyond each celebration to Christ’s return and our reunion with him at that feast of joy. (The Eucharistic prayers of the early church over the bread and the cup regularly ended with the cry “Maranatha,” as in 1 Corinthians 16:22, meaning “Our Lord has/will come.”) We eat and expect the fulfillment of God’s promises, the vindication of his work and character, and enjoy the sense of “festival” of that future age even now.

Such variety shows the celebration of the Lord’s Supper is such a deep reservoir of theological expression for the church that it could function for the worshiping community as the application of every sermon and focus the experience evoked by every song. Rather than continue a rote statement of its penitential aspects (“Jesus died for you; consider what a sinner you are.”), those who lead at the Table have a vast pallet of hues from which to integrate each new celebration with all the possible themes of congregational worship.

Summary

Based on the remembrance theology of the Old Testament, Jesus’ command to “remember” in the Upper Room designates the Lord’s Supper as the central act around which his followers gather to celebrate their covenant with God through him. The Gospels and descriptions of the early church support this. History testifies to centuries of faithful practice. When the Eucharist was corrupted, the Reformers attempted its recovery but civil priorities in Europe prevented it. Issues in America displaced it. For those who profess biblicism in the midst of worship renewal, the time is right for its recovery.

The Lord’s Supper, pregnant with theology, offers us an antidote to the shallowness of our Christian experience and the legacy of immaturity left by self-serving models of corporate worship and superficial theologies of the Church. It demands the formation of biblical community and provides a foundation for the witness to the world which represents the presence of Christ. If this is the jewel, is its setting (the Church) willing to be adorned with it?

About the Author

Timothy J. Ralston, Th.M., Ph.D., is associate professor of pastoral ministries at Dallas Theological Seminary (Dallas, Texas). A specialist in New Testament manuscripts and textual criticism, he also teaches congregational worship, spiritual life, and homiletics.

Notes

1. H. Lietzmann, The Founding of the Church Universal (London: E.T., 1950),124.
2. A. W. Tozer, Worship: The Missing Jewel of the Evangelical Church (Camp Hill, Pennsylvania: Christian Publications, n.d.).
3. H. Greeven, “proskuneo,” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, G. Kittel, ed., G.W. Bromily, trans. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964), 6:764.
4. M. Dods, “The Gospel of St. John.” In The Expositor’s Greek Testament, vol. 1 (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1979), 729; W. Hendrickson, New Testament Commentary: Exposition of the Gospel According to John (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker, 1953), 167–68; L. Morris, The Gospel According to John (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1971), 270–71; A. T. Robertson, Word Pictures in the New Testament (Nashville, Tennessee: Broadman, 1932), 5:66–67; M. Tenney, “The Gospel of John,” in The Expositor’s Bible Commentary, vol. 9 (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Zondervan, 1981), 56; B. F. Westcott, The Gospel According to John (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1881; rep. 1981), 73.
5. Cf. The prophets indicted Israel’s failure here: Ps. 40:4–8; 51:16–17; Isa. 1:16–17; 6:1–7; Jer. 6:20; 7:16–23; Amos 5:21–27; Mic. 6:6–8.
6. R. Meyer, “leitourgeo,” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, G. Kittel, ed., G.W. Bromily, trans. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1967), 3:215–25.
7. R. P. Martin, Worship in the Early Church (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1975), 132–33. This book identifies three components of Christian worship within the Corinthian community: a charismatic element (“enthusiastic praise and prayer under the direct afflatus of the Spirit”), a didactic element (“all ministry in intelligible speech which aims at clarifying the will of God”), and a eucharistic element (“a Jubilate of thanksgiving”) offered by prayer, hymns and canticles, or the distinctive Christian ordinance of the Lord’s Supper. He concludes that “ ... there is, of course, no place in the New Testament which clearly states that the Church had any set order of service and very little information is supplied to us about the outward forms which were in use” (134).
8. Worship in the Early Church.
9. D. Bock, Proclamation From Prophecy and Pattern: Lucan Old Testament Christology (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1987); R. M. Davidson, Typology In Scripture: A Study of Hermenuetical Tupos Structures (Berrien Springs, Michigan: Andrews University Press, 1981).
10. E. Yamuchi, “chavah,” Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, R. L. Harris, ed. (Chicago: Moody, 1980), 1:267–69; Greeven, Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, 6: 764.
11. Theological Dictionary, 758–66; H. Strathmann, “latreuo” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, G. Kittel, ed., G.W. Bromily, trans. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1967), 4:58–65; C. D. Isbell, “Ibd”, Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, R. L. Harris, ed. (Chicago: Moody Press, 1980), 2:1064. For a survey of some other Hebrew worship terms, see A. Hill, Enter His Courts With Praise: Old Testament Worship for the New Testament Church (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1996).
12. E. Yamauchi, “zkr,” Theological Wordbook of the Old Testament, R. L. Harris, ed. (Chicago: Moody Press, 1980), 1:241–43; O. Michel, “mimneskomai,” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, G. Kittel, ed., G. W. Bromily, trans. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1967), IV:675–83; J. Behm, “anamnesko,” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, G. Kittel, ed., G.W. Bromily, trans. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964), 1:348–49.
13. E. H. van Olst, The Bible and Liturgy, J. Vriend, trans. (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmanns, 1991), 18–20. Similarly P. Bradshaw, Two Ways of Praying (Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 1995), notes that the biblical forms of prayer (berakah and hadoyah) common to both Old and New Testaments “are primarily acts of remembrance” (47).
14. Cf. E. Merrill, “Remembering: A Central Theme in Biblical Worship.” In the Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society 43:1 (March 2000), 27–36; J. R. Cosand, “The Theology of Remembrance in the Cultus of Israel” (Ph.D. dissertation, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, 1995).
15. One can see how Eucharistic vocabulary would intrude into earlier mealtime scenarios. See E. LaVerdiere, The Eucharist in the New Testament and the Early Church (Collegeville, Minnesota: The Liturgical Press, 1996).
16. Acts 16:10–17; 20:5–15; 21:1–18; 27:1–28:16.
17. J. Schneider, “sunerchomai,” Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, G. Kittel, ed., G.W. Bromily, trans. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1964), 2:684.
18. See Paul’s statement “because of the angels” (1 Cor. 11:10). Angels witnessed to each party’s integrity under Old Testament covenants to vindicate God’s righteous judgment. Their presence here indicates New Testament worship represents covenant renewal in which God is held righteous for judging his people, so Paul’s concern for the Corinthians’ experiences (1 Cor. 11:29–32).
19. For example, Clement, ad Corinthians 3:5 (Rome, 96 C.E.); Ignatius, ad Ephesians XX, ad Smyrnaeans VI, VIII (Antioch, c. 98–115 C.E.); Didache 3:9, 10, 14 (Syro-Palestine, c. 90–100 C.E.); Justin Martyr, First Apology 65–67 (Rome, c. 150–155 C.E.).
20. He writes in part “ ... they were in the habit of meeting before dawn on a stated day and singing alternately a hymn to Christ as to a god, and that they bound themselves by an oath [sacramentum].... This done it was their practice to separate” (Epp. X, 96–97; Lightfoot’s translation).
21. Compare Tertullian, that “We also take in meetings before daybreak ... the sacrament of the Eucharist” (de Coron. III).
22. J. White, Introduction to Christian Worship, rev. ed. (Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 1990), 81.
23. Protestant Worship, 121.
24. Introduction, 154.
25. T. Wright, A Community of Joy: How to Create Contemporary Worship (Nashville, Tennessee: Abingdon Press, 1994), 122.
26. For a survey of themes, see H. Davies, Bread of Life & Cup of Joy: Newer Ecumenical Perspectives on the Eucharist (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1993); E. Kreider, Communion Shapes Character (Scottsdale, Pennsylvania: Herald Press, 1997).
27. C. D. Erickson, Participating in Worship: History, Theory, and Practice (Louisville, Kentucky: Westminster/John Knox Pess, 1989), 54–55.

Aesthetics And The Place Of Beauty In Worship

By John Mason Hodges

Christians have a spiritual and intellectual war with the surrounding culture on their hands over one thing: unbelievers have adopted a relativistic approach toward the very nature of truth and goodness. Neither side can imagine the other’s position. The Christian cannot imagine how an unbeliever can hold that truth or morality can be different in differing situations. The unbeliever cannot imagine how the Christian can hold to one truth or moral stance in all circumstances because life is so multi-faceted. The result is that each side speaks to the other in platitudes, clichés and bumper stickers, never gaining a hearing from the other. “God said it, I believe it, that settles it.” “Jesus, save me from your followers.” “Abortion is murder.” “Meat is murder.” “In the event of rapture, this car will be unmanned.” “My other car is a broom.” In this war each side thinks the other impossibly lost. How can we break down the barriers and make the gospel compelling again in our day?

Any view of the world that is worth discussing must deal with several areas: Is there a God? If so, what is he like? Where did the universe come from? What is man, and where did he come from? And where is he going after death? But also, there are what the philosophers call transcendental ideas. Truth and goodness are transcendental in that they are eternal and supernaturally derived. Any view of the world worth discussing must deal with the nature of these ideas, not just their content. How do we know what is true? How do we know what is moral? [1]

There is a third transcendental idea: beauty. So any world and life view worth discussing must deal with the nature of beauty as well. How do we know what is beautiful?

Christians clearly see the need to call the world back to biblical standards regarding truth and goodness. God himself is true—he is what truth is. God himself is what goodness is—his behavior and character are the standard of good and moral behavior. However, the God we serve is not only truth and goodness personified, he is also beauty personified. Psalm 27:4 speaks of David’s desire “to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord ...” throughout eternity. Evangelical apologetical systems today usually ignore a discussion of the beautiful, and this article proposes that we will continue to have difficulty speaking in a way this culture can hear unless we include beauty in our apologetics.

If the culture that Christians generate is not beautiful in a way no other culture is, it will become increasingly difficult to make a compelling case to the unbeliever to accept our God or his Word. Admittedly, God does not need us to write good poetry in order to change the hearts of the unbelievers in our midst, but that misses my point. The amazing fact is that God does condescend to use us in his evangelistic work. He is interested in how we live out our lives in him. His interest about our lives goes beyond evangelism, however. His greatest purpose is that he be glorified in our lives and in his creation. He built us to be not only lovers of truth and goodness, but also lovers of the beautiful. Our ability to perceive and enjoy beauty is a gift from God, and part of his image in us. So when we enjoy the beautiful, we are glorifying him (assuming we acknowledge where the beauty came from). One of the effects of the fall has been that we have placed our love for each of these transcendent ideas beneath our love for ourselves, so it should not surprise us that we find in ourselves that we love our appetites more than we love truth, goodness and beauty. In fact, in sin we debase our potential love for the truth into an appetite for information; the love of goodness into an appetite for self-righteousness; the love of beauty into an appetite for amusement.

It is understandable, then, why there is a war in our culture over truth and goodness. Regenerated men and women take up the cause of calling the unbelieving world back to “true truth” (to quote Francis Schaeffer). However, these same believers often have not taken up the battle for “true beauty.” When it comes to discussing beauty, Christians themselves regularly adopt the world’s relativism and argue that beauty is a matter of personal preference and that it does not have an objective element.

Of course, like any other desire, our desire for beauty can be misled and perverted. This occurs when we make the mistake of believing that the beauty we find in this world is in the object we have found rather than a means through which we experience something of the nature of God himself. C. S. Lewis suggested that the beauty we find in the object does not come from the object, but rather through the object. [2] The object is only a medium for the glory of God. Great paintings and music and sculpture are made by man, but only indirectly, since the gifts to create come from God, and human beings have the ability to reveal something of the nature of God through those gifts. This is the delight we find in beauty, and the purpose we find for art: we are momentarily allowed to see our real desire, and how God is the only real satisfaction of that desire.

Beauty, Right Sensibilities, And The True And The Good

Philosophers have long argued about the connections between beauty and goodness and truth. Plato put it this way:

And the true order of going, or being led by another, to the things of love, is to begin from the beauties of the earth and mount upwards for the sake of that other beauty, using these steps only, and from one going on to two, and from two to all fair forms to fair practices, and from fair practices to fair notions, until from fair notions he arrives at the notion of absolute beauty, and at last knows what the essence of beauty is. 

Beholding beauty with the eye of the mind, he will be enabled to bring forth, not images of beauty, but realities (for he has hold not of an image but of a reality), and bringing forth and nourishing true virtue to become the friend of God and be immortal, if mortal man may. [3]

Of course, this is not enough to compel a Christian, but it is one of Plato’s more remarkable insights. To be exposed at an early age to those things that are beautiful may very well lead one to appreciate and eventually embrace the source of that beauty when old enough to do so. Plato saw the appreciation of the beautiful as a part of the goal of education: maturity in our humanness. However, in our self-centered relativistic age, even the church does not consider this sort of maturity valuable. What if Christians were to adopt the notion that sanctification includes growth toward maturity of our human sensibilities? In other words, that as we grow in Christ we also grow in our abilities to see what is fitting, appropriate, human, beautiful?

In a full-orbed view of the world and life, Christians argue that all of life is under the lordship of Christ. One of the implications of this is that God himself will satisfy all of our real needs, and these needs must include our longing for beauty. Who can explain our deepest desires? What is the source of our need for companionship, love, significant work, security, and a sense of beauty in our lives? Do we deny that beauty is something we desire? Why do we find ourselves unhappy with disorder in our homes or gardens? Even if we cannot find time or even inclination to do anything about making order, we still find disorder disquieting. Those who have none in their lives appear less than attractive to us. Beauty has to do with order, appropriateness, fittingness, right relationships. Who tells us what those are? Yet we long for those elements in the specifics of our lives. Of course, we are never quite satisfied when we try to achieve order in this world. The reason is that we are not to be satisfied with anything short of God himself, and the order of our physical world and its relationships are meant by him to be ultimately unfulfilling when separated from a desire to have him. The strange thing is that even men who have given up desiring God himself still desire order and meaning in their lives. Only when we order our world as a result of our love for God will there be any lasting satisfaction in our work.

Beauty In The Culture Of Worship

This work of ordering is, of course, what culture is. Man, no matter what he believes, generates culture. Students of culture can see in the order of a culture something of what that culture believes. We should reverse that picture and ask the question, “As Christians, what should our culture look like?” There is not space here for us to consider all aspects of culture, but for the purposes of this article we ought to look into the culture of worship of our God. What is the state of order or beauty in our worship?

Many churches are in the throes of worship “style wars.” One side of these wars argues that adopting the musical styles of the general unbelieving culture will attract unbelievers to the church where then they can hear the gospel message. After all, the argument goes, we want to be sensitive to their needs: we do not want the worship service to seem alien to them. So, we need to adjust the order of our worship in order to accommodate the goal of evangelism among present-day unbelievers.

This argument fails in part due to several misguided assumptions. It assumes that if the unbeliever feels comfortable he will come to church; it assumes that the unbeliever will feel comfortable if the music in the services is in the style that he prefers; it assumes that the message of the gospel remains the same if it is spoken through any style of music—that is, that the medium is neutral and does not affect either the message or the hearing of the message; and more profoundly still, it assumes that the idea that “giving the customer what he wants” is a biblical notion (these all would require a sequel to this article).

However, the most profound mistake made in this approach, and the one I want to focus on here, is that it assumes there is no such thing as beauty. If there were, it would carry more weight in our decision processes. To separate the message from the medium is to ignore the way God says things. He had specific design requirements for his temple and tabernacle. He gave specific instructions to the Israelites regarding the way the lamp stands and altars were to be built. The details mattered to God. If God is beauty himself, then when we offer music or other art that disregards the real nature of beauty, are we actually evangelizing for a God who is not fully God? At the least, we are ignoring an aspect of God, even if he still kindly acknowledges our offerings despite our ignorance. The God who is truth and goodness, but not beauty, is not the God of the Bible. What’s more, we are advertising a church made up of people who are not exercising one of the elements of the imago Dei that we claim to possess; that is, we deny a part of the truth when we are not creative and imaginative with regard to our music, for example. When we offer the world what it already has (albeit with changed words) we are acting like barbarians who have no profound artistic culture of their own, and who borrow from the surrounding culture to communicate among themselves. One of the marks of unbelief in our day is a disbelief in absolute truth, goodness and beauty. Doug Wilson said once, “The evangelical church can do anything the world does, only five years later and worse.” [4] That is the picture we have agreed is good to offer the watching unbelieving world: second-hand, warmed-over music that we think is attractive precisely because it comes from the unbelieving culture rather than from a more thoughtful Christian aesthetic.

The result of this way of thinking is not only that we become less creative, less imaginative, and thus mar the image of God in ourselves, but it is also that we actually place the aesthetic decisions for Christian worship services in the hands of the unbelievers in the surrounding culture. This is abdication of our responsibility to be cultural leaders. Tim Keller once said, “The work of the church in the city is to show the unbelieving city what a Christian city would look like.” [5] This vision is accomplished by way of its right relationships, marked by forgiveness and love (something the world can only gape at), and by way of right and just economic and legal business. But also in the community of believers there should be all of the earmarks of mature sensibilities, including an appreciation for the beautiful. One of the signs of real appreciation of the beautiful is the respect paid to artists for the gifts God has given them, and for the accomplishments of their hands.

This is very difficult in today’s American churches, because materialism holds such influence over us. Materialism is an idea that is similar to but not the same as consumerism. Consumerism is a desire to buy our happiness with things, and is a fruit of materialism. Materialism, on the other hand, gives greater value to material things than to those that are immaterial. The more our churches think in materialistic terms, the more they will give matters of practicality and expedience highest importance, and less to matters of art and beauty. Materialists view beauty as a luxury that is expendable. This is how our church buildings have become so ugly, and this is why many congregations are actually proud of the ugliness they have achieved.

This abdication of our aesthetic sensibilities can actually bring about the opposite of our evangelical hopes. One of my students suggested to me that she would have become a Christian far sooner if she had seen artistic work from Christians that had some integrity and creativity of its own. “The music they played me was nothing more than I had heard already. If there had been something fresh and more profound I might have paid attention to their message more quickly,” she told me. This flies in the face of most of today’s church-growth theories, and it does so specifically at the point of its inability to appreciate the beautiful. Could it be that we are shooting ourselves in the foot with our attempts to be relevant? There needs to be some evidence that we are more, rather than less, human: more profound, more transparent, and more multi-faceted than the unbelieving world around us. If we want them to listen to our arguments against abortion or in favor of a stable definition for words like “is,” we must have real life in our midst, not warmed-over music, a Christian version of consumerism, thoughtless church architecture, sentimental art, and bumper stickers that say “Got Jesus?” [6]

A Renewed Definition Of Beauty

What is the antidote to this poisoned state in which we find ourselves? First, we have to repent of our dismissal of beauty as a reasonable category of thought. We have defined beauty in our culture as completely subjective, and as a result, there is no discussion in the public square about what makes something beautiful. In fact, even Christians doubt that there can be anything objectively beautiful.

In a previous article for the Reformation and Revival Journal (cf. Vol. 4. No. 4, 1995), I outlined the differences between objective and subjective approaches to beauty. These are not in opposition to one another, as our Enlightenment philosophers would have us believe (that is, either objective or subjective), rather they are two sides of the apprehension of the beautiful: a real objective beauty is perceived and subjectively enjoyed as beautiful by a human being.

We are the children of the Enlightenment in many ways, and we have been taught that beauty cannot be objective, since all we know we must derive from a study of the material world (as good Enlightenment scholars do). Thus, beauty must be of purely personal definition, as all we ever see anyone do is to have “personal experiences.” Subjective beauty is really an evaluation of the experience of the viewer. If one finds a certain kind of pleasure or positive experience from contact with an artwork, it is called beautiful. This is real and good, and must never be underestimated. God made us to be appreciators of the beautiful, and not all of us will respond the same way to the same experiences. However, just as we do with everything else, we must allow for the effect of the Fall in the area of aesthetic experience. That is, our subjective “beauty receptors” are fallen just as everything else about us is. But, just as our fallen palettes can be taught to appreciate better food, our fallen aesthetic senses can learn to appreciate more beautiful things. This is part of living in a fallen world, and part of the work of our Lord to bring us to be more in keeping with his image.

Since the beautiful is rooted in God himself, his desire for us to love the beautiful is simply his desire for us to love him more fully. He knows that just as the truth will make us free, the beautiful will satisfy our souls. He made us to be satisfied only with him—nothing less will do. So, when we are confronted with something beautiful, it should lead us to worship him who created those beautiful things, and who is beauty.

This leads us to the idea of objective beauty. If he is beautiful, anything resembling him will be beautiful. Beauty that is objective would have elements within the object itself that could be pointed to and called beautiful regardless of our feelings. At this point, many readers may express a certain skepticism, and want to know what those objective criteria could possibly be that would fully explain the beautiful all the time. No one knows what God looks like, so how do we know what resembles him? Allow me to take a moment to explain something before I attempt to answer that concern.

When we are told to think on “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right ...” (Philippians 4:8), do we ask, “Sure, but who’s to say what is noble?” Or do we not, in our deepest selves, rather know (based on the Spirit’s help in our rightly understanding the written Word) that we should indeed think on these things when we find them? We should even desire to go out and look for them. In the same way we need to know the beautiful. We find no systematic outline of rules for the beautiful form in the Bible, but if there were, it would read like the Old Testament moral law that we are told reveals the minimum requirements for goodness. We know that we cannot reach even that low level of moral purity on our own; perhaps it is better that there is not a written law regarding beauty, as it would make us try to achieve it by way of fulfilling rules.

This is not what is meant here in reference to objectivity in beauty. What I am arguing for in this article is not a system of rules within each genre (always use green in painting, or never use diatonic harmonies in music, etc.); rather it is simply to know that there is such a thing as objective beauty, just as we know that there is objective good, and then go about loving it wherever it is found. It is rather a state of humility I am calling for, not a system of rules to adopt. As Augustine wrote, “Love God and do what you will.” So while I am going to offer a step or two toward a Christian aesthetic before the end of this article, it is not for the purpose of coldly discerning between good art and bad art only in order to condemn bad art. Rather I am arguing against the other end of the spectrum, which is for a definition of beauty that is not purely relative. There is no room in our Christian worldview for art and beauty that have no reference to a transcendent God as a source or foundation.

For you who will not accept the idea of objective beauty unless someone shows you just what the rules are, I offer only this: the Bible speaks of beauty. God himself is referred to as beautiful. It makes sense that the Creator should be reflected in the creation, and it makes sense that the ones who are specifically made in his image would have a desire to create beautiful things too (as he did), not only because we are like him, but because we are to be fulfilled by him. We could almost say that whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely, and admirable applies to art as well as to the rest of life. Does that mean that there is a system or a perfect definition for “noble” or “lovely”? If so, it eludes us in this life. But just because it is hard to pin down is no reason why we should run to the opposite extreme and deny its objective reality. It turns out, part of the delight of living as a human being is the adventure associated with discovering new manifestations of the lovely and the admirable. [7]

To those who will venture on the road of discovery with me, admitting that there is something objective about beauty, even if as yet, it is not clear what, I offer the following: the answers to our questions about what is beautiful in this world are to be found within words like, fitting, appropriate, and tasteful. As children, we learn to see and spot patterns in objects. As we grow, we begin to spot more complex patterns in objects. This is a study of general revelation. What is similar about the leaves of these trees? What is different? The sorting of things into like and unlike is part of the work we do as a child, and much of what we continue to do in whatever work we find in this life. The biologist certainly does this in the laboratory, the medical doctor in the work of diagnosis, the financier in tracking stocks, the teacher in tracking a student’s progress in a certain subject, etc. The artist does this sort of work with the elements of his genre: composition of objects on his canvas or in his camera lens, organization of his dancers on the stage, composition of his sounds in his string quartet, etc. The viewer/listener also must learn this work of spotting patterns in order to appreciate the beauty in the object. The one who wishes to see the objective beauty in an artwork, first needs to learn something of the language of that genre in order to see what the artist saw when he created it.

Thus, objective beauty is to be found in the object itself—in its internal integrity, in its relation to other works of its kind, in light of the history of the genre, and in its communication of human experience and ideas.

Beauty And Apologetics

Repentance and restructuring of our thinking about beauty need to come first. Second, we have to reconsider the relationship among truth, goodness, and beauty. Could it be that Hans Urs von Balthasar is correct when he suggests that without beauty, truth and goodness come to lose their ability to compel? If we speak the truth, but do so without morality, won’t it lose its authority? The truth that Jesus rose from the dead would seem strange indeed if his teaching was that we should all be self-centered and steal from one another. If we speak of morality without truth, wouldn’t it lose its authority? There would be little to compel a moral life in this world if there were no corresponding truth that mankind was not made for this world. If we preach goodness but have no beautiful culture of our own, doesn’t the very essence of Godliness lose some of its power to compel?

When goodness is not beautiful it loses its attractiveness. We can call our children to the glories of moral marriage instead of the immediate pleasures of fornication, but how if everyone is divorcing and there are no examples of beautiful marriages for them to see? There seems so often to be a lack of beauty in the life we are called to in God, and as a result the moral life carries less and less weight in the culture.

When truth is not beautiful, it loses its ability to compel. Logical reasoning is of great worth, but not when it is separated from beauty. Von Balthasar writes,

In a world that no longer has enough confidence in itself to affirm the beautiful, the proofs of the truth have lost their cogency. In other words, syllogisms may still dutifully clatter away like rotary presses, or computers that infallibly spew out an exact number of answers by the minute. But the logic of these answers is itself a mechanism which no longer captivates anyone. The very conclusions are no longer conclusive. [8]

The three transcendentals need to be woven together for all three to work properly to their appointed joint end, which is to glorify God and make him known. This is a shocking thought to most of us, as we have never considered that beauty was anything more than a momentary diversion in this life. However, if we accept that God is what beauty ultimately is, we find that our experiences of beauty in this life are meaningful in a way we have not considered.

Moral goodness in this life should bear fruit that is beautiful. When communities live out the truth and goodness of Christianity, there should be a noticeable change for the better in the lives of the members. Better sanitation, education, food, and marriages—but also, better art, poetry, music and architecture. I don’t mean here that truth or goodness lose any of their objective realities when we don’t value the beautiful—we are still going to have to answer for our beliefs and actions—but I do mean that without beauty, proclamations of truth and goodness are less able to compel the audience to taste them and see that they are worthwhile.

The reason the three transcendentals of truth, goodness and beauty are so intertwined in this world is that the three are unified in God himself. Imagine that we preached a god who had saved the souls of everyone who would come to him and believe in him, but who did not love? Imagine a god who claimed to love fallen mankind but who had done no salvific work for those he loved? Neither of these is possible because the truth and the goodness of the True God are so intertwined that they cannot exist one without the other. No god who saved without loving would save. No god who loved without acting would in any meaningful way be said to love.

In the same way, a true and loving God would not create in us a desire that could not be fulfilled in him. He himself is the source of beauty, and he has placed in our hearts the great gift of aesthetic sensibilities. The aesthetic longings we have are part of what it means to be human beings, and that is precisely the state we are in as his creatures. To dismiss the desire to delight in beauty is to dismiss something of our humanness—and that humanness is what our Creator placed in our hearts to make us desire him. He alone can save us, he alone can love us, but also, he alone can teach us how to delight in his beauty, which will be the work of eternity.

Beauty In Worship

Third, our worship in this world (one part of our cultural activity) needs to include the beauty of God as well as the truth and the goodness of God. It is beauty that makes truth edible. It is beauty that makes goodness attractive.

In our decisions about worship, we need to put into practice a good understanding of beauty. Realize that the music we choose is first and foremost to be the best we can offer, not merely what the surrounding culture will bear. The liturgy should be in a language the unbeliever can understand, but should also offer something he cannot find anywhere else in his world: order, fittingness, mature sensibilities, and beauty.

Recently I have been serving as interim music director at a large Presbyterian church with a history of singing the great choral works of the Church. I had a dear Christian lady tell me that her unbelieving husband had come to church with her and, after hearing our choir sing, had said, “If there is a heaven, and if there are angels, they will sound like that choir when they sing.” Beauty can speak to the heart in a way that logical reasoning and moral teaching cannot. Our musical and liturgical choices in worship can display an aspect of God that is often ignored. We must ask ourselves, how can we whet the congregation’s appetites now for the satisfactions that will be theirs in God for eternity? One way would be to commit ourselves to the pursuit of God’s beauty made manifest through his creation and ours, and value that beauty highly when making decisions for worship.

About the Author

John Mason Hodges is associate professor of the arts at Crichton College and director of the Institute for the Arts and Cultural Apologetics. He also serves as the artistic director of Ars Nova, Inc., a multifaceted organization wherein he produces lectures and concerts with a chamber orchestra, and leads the Memphis Arts Group, a fellowship of Christians called to the arts profession. A frequent contributor to publications dealing specifically with music and the Christian faith, he holds an undergraduate degree in music from University of Maryland and a graduate degree in orchestral and operatic conducting from Indiana University. He studied conducting under Leonard Bernstein. He is married and the father of a son.

Notes

1. For these and other good worldview questions, see James Sire’s concise book, The Universe Next Door (Downers Grove, Illinois: Inter Varsity, 1988).
2. See the essay, “The Weight of Glory” in C. S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Eerdmans, 1975), 4.
3. Five Great Dialogues of Plato, Symposium, Jowett translation (Walter J. Black, Inc.: Roslyn, New York, 1941), 202.
4. Doug Wilson, in a lecture at the Association of Classical and Christian Schools National Conference, Memphis, Tennessee, 1997.
5. Tim Keller, spoken at a lecture at Second Presbyterian Church, Memphis, Tennessee, March, 2000.
6. The saddest thing about this is that the advertising phrase, “Got Milk?” is clever. It looses all its cleverness when the simple phrase is stretched to include the weighty question about salvation. It cannot help but reduce the gospel to the consumer level and thus misrepresent the gospel. But it seems useful and appropriate to the Christian. Why? Two reasons: first, we have found a recognizable way to get the name of our Lord across, and second, because we are so unimaginative that we can’t think of anything better. Why do we have to raid the world’s imagination to speak of our faith? Dante, Bach, and Milton set the standards for their days—standards that have been seldom seen since. Today, the church imitates the unbeliever because he is sharp of mind.
7. A further point is that there is a distinction between goodness and beauty in that there is no moral issue associated with beauty as there is with the good. The opposite of good is evil. The opposite of beauty is ugliness, and while some artists seem to make ugliness a goal, its result is not the same as evil. In fact, if the truth is to be told about the Fall, ugliness is a good goal to have. But the goal of art is not to speak only of the Fall, so the beauty of the creation, and, especially in our day, the beauty of redemption should be a worthy goal for the artist as well.
8. Von Balthasar, Hans Urs, The Lord of Glory: A Theological Aesthetics—Volume: Seeing the Form. (San Francisco: Ignatius, and New York: Crossroad, 1982), 19.