Form and Function

So Amy asked, "What made you emotional in worship today?" And, of course, I said... "I don't know." (Do I ever!?)

The Psalmist says "deep calls to deep," and I know there is deep truth in these poetic words. At moments I can hardly predict, for reasons I cannot always name, something stirs the "deep" within... and in these moments I can only affirm that some other "Deep" is speaking.

So it was today. In worship...

Since we've missed so many of our boys' recent baseball games, we've been determined not to miss any this summer. (Why they insist on scheduling these tournaments on Sunday mornings!?...) And the last two weeks we've spent about 12 hours on a baseball field on a Sunday. But today, we had time to slip out to Myers Park Baptist for the 10a.m. service (before baseball!). I was there a 9:00 a.m. for a discussion of one of Bishop Spong's latest books, Jesus for the Non-Religious; Amy and the boys then joined me, and we sat together. And I cried.

As a minister, who worries his fair share about where all of his parishioners are on Sunday mornings (are you watching baseball, too!?), I also spend a fair amount of my brain's "down time" wondering about the effectiveness of worship... both the function and the form. And as something of a skeptic, one who's prone to be at least a little influenced by the real cynics, I sometimes wonder if all the effort we put into it is really worth it. Or if we need to change the way we structure it at PRBC. But after just two Sundays away from it, as I sat there, a full participant (and nothing more)... the tears welled-up from somewhere deep within.

Today's worship was excellently conceived -- about as formal as ours -- and with the same basic style... format... length... etc... Why was I moved by the experience? Well, as best I can tell... it wasn't just the magnificent room... not just the choir... not just the order of service... not even the excellent sermon...

Plain and simple, it was just the experience of... worship. The discipline of putting myself in the place and with the people and with a disposition to listen.

Listen.

I'm sure I'll start worrying again (irrationally, of course), about our style of worship (form and format) when I'm back in the pulpit (again wondering where you are!), but for now, all of my questions about our "liberal" or "liturgical" or "formal" or "traditional" style of worship are gone.

GONE.

It's not about the form. It's about the function.

Somewhere... somehow... we need to find that place where the deep can call. I found it today, and I'm grateful.



I need that hour.