Worship in the Presbyterian Tradition: The Word of God

Isaiah 6:1-8

W 1.1001 Christian worship joyfully ascribes all praise and honor, glory and power to the Triune God. 

Christian worship takes on many different forms throughout the world.

In the ornate Eastern Orthodox tradition, there are paintings of the saints known as icons, which the congregants kiss; a physical act that resonates with a deep spiritual hunger and love.

In the cement sanctuaries in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, thousands engage in hour-long prayers punctuated by charismatic fervor, with powerfully rhythmic music that leads participants into a deeper and deeper and deeper experience of the Holy Spirit.

At Westminster Abbey, an ethereal Evensong echoes off the stone walls, and the crystal-clear voices pierce the defenses of our minds, making room for God.

Every different tradition opens us up to a different aspect of God. Today in our sanctuary we represent a very wide perspective of this worldwide church, with members from China, Korea, Mexico, Ghana, the Dominican Republic, France, Brazil, and all over these United States. You come from Catholic, Baptist, nondenominational, Methodist, evangelical, and so many more. But we find ourselves at the Brick Presbyterian Church, which both falls in line with the historic nature of Presbyterian worship while also having its own unique interpretation.

And like every tradition, the Presbyterian form of worship has a very important history for its development and a particular Scriptural lens that focuses the cadence of our worship.

This lens grew out of the time of the Reformation. Reformers believed that the Word of God is central to Christian worship. At the time, the church had refused to translate it into a language that members could understand, and the priests failed to proclaim it. They found many worship traditions for which they could not find any Scriptural warrant. For Presbyterians, the elements of worship must have their foundation in Scripture. And the content of worship must all grow out of the Word of God as well.

Five hundred years ago, our theological forefather John Calvin wrote a treatise entitled “On the Necessity of Reforming the Church.” It was to be presented to the Emperor Charles V to defend the Reformation. “The whole substance of Christianity, viz., a knowledge, first, of the mode in which God is duly worshipped; and, secondly, of the source from which salvation is to be obtained.”

Consider the implications of this quote; it declares that worship comes even before salvation! Salvation is a result of our fallen nature, but worship is our purpose for existing. Worship is what we owe God.

But…

… it is not only a duty, it is a joyous privilege.

… it is not only something we do, it is who we are.

… it is not only something we give to God, it is a blessing God gives to us.

Our passage from Isaiah is the quintessential summation of Christian worship, and it begins with reverent awe.

In the midst of a vision Isaiah finds himself in the Temple. This was not just any place of worship. The Temple was a supreme gift given to the Israelites. And in the inner recesses of the temple is the Holy of Holies.

The Holy of Holies was separated from the rest of the tabernacle/Temple by the veil, a huge, heavy drape made of fine linen and blue, purple, and scarlet yarn and embroidered with gold cherubim.

It represented God’s presence on earth. In this vision Isaiah is overwhelmed by the staggering, stupefying, spectacular, and sublime presence of God. Otherworldly angels with six wings sing with voices so powerful that the immense stone pivots shook, and the house was filled with smoke! Just the mere hem of God’s robe filled the entire Temple!

Presbyterian worship begins with a sense of profound reverence. It is reflected by the majesty of the organ prelude, the Scriptural call to worship, the hymn of praise, and the opening prayer filled with adoration of God. The center of worship is praise.

After this overwhelming moment Isaiah experiences an excruciatingly powerful sense of unworthiness. To be in the presence of God is to be before something so holy, so pure, that Scripture tells us it meant death. For a small creature of infinitely less power to be confronted with the infinite is for a moment to feel as if your soul is going to be extinguished. The closest parallel that I can think of is the time I can remember when the wheels of a plane lifted off the tarmac and suddenly a few seconds later the earth is shrinking and growing at the same time, and my knee started to shake, for suddenly I felt as if I had a God’s-eye view of this planet.

It is spine-tingling and terrifying at the same time. To make matters worse, Isaiah is aware of his sin. “Woe is me, for I am a man of unclean lips, living amongst a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!” Simply being in the presence of God compels Isaiah to confess his sins and to ask for mercy.

Each week we confess our sins. And there should be the briefest moment of terror. We should never presume upon God’s grace. But with repetition our senses become dulled.

Perhaps like me the 23rd Psalm is something you’ve known since you were a child; you’ve read it scores of times, and at some point the words just lacked power.

It is akin to what is known as semantic satiation. That’s when you say a word so much that suddenly the word doesn’t mean anything anymore; it just sounds like gibberish. Now the 23rd Psalm didn’t sound like gibberish, but it did just sound like a bunch of words strung together. That was until the first 9/11 service I went to over 20 years ago; Muslims, Christians, and Jews were gathered together and united as one; we recited the 23rd Psalm in unison. Together we then said, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me.” Suddenly once again I knew the power of those words—we all did.

I imagine you, like me, at times find the moment of confession a rote recitation of our sins. And also it’s difficult to muster the proper level of fear, for we know what comes next; we remember the gospel.

If there is a failure in our Presbyterian worship, it is that we so understand and presume the grace of God that we forget not only how holy God is but the extent; the infinite extent that the mighty God has humbled God’s own self to allow us to be in the divine presence.

Unless we thoroughly appreciate the extent to which God has gone to cleanse us of our sins; unless we realize the cosmic dimensions of this infinite God, we can never properly appreciate the shocking, life-altering nature of the scope of God’s gift to us in Jesus Christ.

After Isaiah confesses his sins, an angel flies to the altar, takes a live coal, and places it on his lips, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”

After we have confessed our sins, we receive the assurance of pardon; it is at this point we shift our focus in worship; the tenor of the service changes. We move from worshiping the mighty, all-powerful God, the creator and ruler of the universe, to worshiping God in the flesh—Jesus the Christ, our friend.

The pastor declares, “In the name of Jesus Christ, we are forgiven.”

We receive forgiveness not because of the purity of our repentance nor the ritual of the pastor.

Hebrews 7:27: "[Jesus] has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices, first for his own sins and then for those of the people, since he did this once, for all, when he offered up himself."

Because of our sin we could not be in the presence of God and live; God is too holy. But Christ’s death cleansed us of sin, allowing us to be in the presence of the divine. And so, the gospel tells us at that moment there was an earthquake which tore the curtain of the Temple in two. Thus, there was no longer any barrier between the Holy of Holies and the Temple, which meant there was no longer any barrier between us and God.

His death was so powerful that its forgiveness extends back through time to all those who lived before and into the future to all those that will ever live. The rousing, robust, and even raucous response from the congregation should be “Thanks be to God!”

But not only does this destroy the barrier between us and God, but it destroys the barriers between you and me and between all people. It is then we know, arguably, the most soothing,calming, surprising, and penetrating moment of worship.

The Passing of the Peace. The potency of this moment cannot be overestimated.

The prophet Isaiah is one of the first to help us understand this moment when he told us,

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who live in the land of deep darkness, on them light has shined… He will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Jesus is the Prince of Peace because He will make wars to cease.

He is the Prince of Peace because He forges harmony between enemies. 

He is the Prince of Peace because He shatters the traditional barriers of class, race, and gender.

He is the Prince of Peace because He reconciles us to God.

At the Passing of the Peace we’re not just saying hello to each other. When you say, “The peace of Christ be with you,” You are hoping that they will know this peace which passes all understanding.

When you pass the peace to your friend who has suffered a debilitating loss, you are wishing them Christ’s healing presence.

When you pass the peace of Christ to the person across the pew who you know is estranged from a loved one, you are offering them a prayer from your heart that they will know wholeness again through His love.

When you pass the peace of Christ you are blessing them with the greatest gift we can imagine, especially in our time.

May the peace of Christ be with you all.

Amen.