Voices: Worship that points the way

On Sunday morning, as I make my way inside for worship, I can’t seem to ignore it.

You certainly could point to other things that ought to grab my attention: the orange sky as the sun peeks over the trees to the east, the warm glow emanating through the stained glass ahead of me or the beautiful fountain flowing to my right.

But what holds my gaze captive in those early hours as I head to the doors of First Baptist Church in Amarillo lies at my feet. There, patterned in the brick sidewalk, a cross lines the path.

I cannot enter the building for worship without passing through the cross. So, each Sunday morning it waits for me.

Once I reach it, the brown brick cross directs my mind to the call of Jesus: “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me” (Matthew 16:24, NIV).

The cross cannot be bypassed if we want to follow Jesus, and quite literally, I must choose to walk through it each time I enter for worship.

Its placement is no accident. In fact, though it may go unnoticed, the cross is integral to the architecture of our church campus. It is found everywhere, built into the very structure of our buildings. And its presence guides my attention to our crucified and risen Lord, challenging me to assess my heart as I prepare to join God’s people in retelling that story.

Many—such as Constance M. Cherry in The Worship Architect: A Blueprint for Designing Culturally Relevant and Biblically Faithful Services—have described parallels between architecture and worship design.

Just as the physical structure of our campus testifies to the living God, the organizational structure within our gathered worship—fixed and formal or loose and free—holds great opportunity for conveying whose company we enjoy, whose story we celebrate, and whose glory we profess.

Whose company?

From grand medieval cathedrals to an intimately beautiful country church, our spaces demonstrate something of the God we claim to worship.

Some rooms emphasize God’s transcendence, featuring vaulted ceilings and ornate detail. Such architectural artistry reminds those who enter to worship that they are stepping into the overlap of heaven and earth. Here, they will encounter the living God who calls them into his presence.

Do our liturgical structures foster a similar experience? Do the first words of our worship help us recognize whose company we enjoy? That is, do we acknowledge the fact God is the one who calls us together in Christ, that he is there in our midst?

Of course, there are lots of ways to do this, but when we begin our worship only with a trite greeting, our congregations might mistake a corporate encounter with God for a high-production social gathering.

Whose story?

Like countless sacred spaces throughout time, the walls of the sanctuary at First Baptist Amarillo are lined with beautiful stained-glass windows, each depicting a key moment or theme from Scripture.

Both Old and New Testament images attest to the one story of God, culminating in its fulfillment in Jesus the king. By his grace, we find ourselves caught up in this grand story of redemption.

Do the structures and content of our worship services retell this story, or might our gatherings give the impression we come only to retell my story?

Our individual stories matter to God and should matter to each other, but as we publicly read Scripture, celebrate baptism, sing the gospel story, observe the Lord’s Supper and pray for the culmination of God’s kingdom, we might recognize our personal narratives within the broader drama of salvation.

When we dedicate time in our services for these elements, we stave off the temptation toward the hyper-individualism of the culture. His story is the story we celebrate, and in Christ, his story has become our own.

Whose glory?

When our gathered worship is expressed toward the God who dwells with us and is rooted in his story, we are drawn anew to wonder at the depths of his glory.

Just as the cross that greets me on my way into church, the fixed elements of worship guide our attention to the Triune God and serve to unify the voice of his people in praise.

All too often, however, we as worship planners cater to the comfort and perceived needs of the worshippers. In attempting to put them at ease, calls to worship devolve into a friendly wave. For practical reasons, baptisms occur outside after the service. Musical elements become determined more by stylistic preference than content.

Is the telos—the intended end—of our worship structure the glory of God? Or is it practicality, comfortability and applicability? Whose glory do we profess?

Worship renewal has to start by asking the right questions. I do not necessarily know the right answers to all the issues raised above, let alone whether these are the right questions. But I’m still drawn back to the brick cross beneath my feet, and I wonder: Can our services do the same? Where is our worship pointing us?

Parker Bowen serves as the associate minister of music at First Baptist Church in Amarillo. He holds a Master of Arts degree from Denver Seminary and a Master of Music degree from Baylor University. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.