The Church Still knows...Worship

We live in a world that worships constantly. Just not God.

We worship at the altar of self. Self-improvement. Self-actualization. Self-care. Self-expression. The highest goal is to become the best version of yourself, to find yourself, to prioritize yourself. We worship our preferences. Our comfort. Our opinions. Our carefully curated feeds that tell us we're right about everything. We build our lives around what we what, what we deserve, what makes us happy. 

And even when we come to church, we bring the same questions: Did I like the music? Did the sermon speak to me? Did I feel something? Did I get what I needed? Everything is evaluated by whether it served us, whether it met our expectations, whether we got something out of it. 

Worship has become one more thing we consume. One more experience we rate. One more product designed to make us feel good. 

But the Church has never believed that's what worship is.

Worship isn't about us. It never has been. 

The Church has always known this. We don't gather because we feel like it or because we'll get something out of it. We gather because God is worthy. Because the proper response to the God who created us, redeemed us, sustains us, is to bow down and say, "You are holy. You are good. You are God, and we are not."

This is profoundly counter-cultural. In a world that says you are the center of everything, worship says you're not. And that's exactly the point. We come to worship to get ourselves out of the center. Not because we're worthless, but because we're not God. 

Every week we hear, "The Lord be with you." "And also with you." We acknowledge we're not alone, that we're in the presence of something infinitely bigger than ourselves, something we can't control or consume or evaluate. 

We bow our heads in prayer. We stand for the reading of the Gospel. We pass the peace, reaching out to greet one another. We come forward for communion. These are physical acts of worship. Our bodies do what our hearts need to learn: this isn't about us. This is about God, and we are here together to encounter the Holy. 

This is the opposite of everything our culture teaches us. 

And here's the strange gift: worship isn't about you, you're free. 

Free from the tyranny of your own preferences. Free from the exhausting work of making sure you get what you need. Free from the pressure to feel a certain way or have a certain experience. When worship isn't dependent on your feelings, you can show up even when you don't feel like it. When you're not the center, you can actually encounter something bigger than yourself. You can stop performing and start being present. 

Worship that makes us small is the only worship that makes room for God to be big. 

This coming Sunday is Pentecost. The day we remember the Spirit rushing in like wind and fire, filling the gathered believers, giving them words they didn't know how to speak. 

And maybe that's important for us to remember right now. 

Because worship becomes possible not because we're good at it, not because we've mastered the right techniques or cultivated the right feelings, but because the Spirit enables it. We gather. The Spirit shows up. And together, we become something bigger than ourselves. 

This is what the Church has always known: worship isn't just a solo performance. It's a communal act empowered by the Spirit. We can't manufacture it. We can't force it. We can only show up and trust that God meets us there. 

The Church still gathers every week to worship. Not because we feel like it. Not because we'll get something out of it. But because God is worthy. 

This is counter-cultural resistance to a world obsessed with self. We shift our focus from ourselves to God. We let go of our preferences so we can encounter the Holy. We come together and let the Spirit form us into something we could never be alone. 

As Pentecost approaches, the Church prepares again to hear that ancient story: the Spirit rushes in. The gathered community becomes the Body of Christ. And worship stops being about us and becomes what it was always meant to be: our response to the God who loves us beyond measure. 

The Church still knows this. And we're still gathering, Sunday after Sunday, to worship God who is worthy of it all. 

Peace,
Travis Segar
Pastor for Care and Community