The Worship Crisis

I have a unique and rewarding job as a pastor/teacher/liturgist/writer. Most days I get to spend time with people and invest in their lives in meaningful and relational ways. Other days, I get to write and think deeply about the topics that I care about. And then, on some occasions, I spend time with pastors and worship leaders talking about worship in their church. If I get a phone call, it's usually because of some perceived crisis. That phone call usually goes something like this:

"Hi, Jodi, it's ________ from __________ Community Church. Was wondering how you've been and if you've got some time to come by next week?"

"Sure, _______. How are things going there?"

"Well, you know, we just can't quite get worship going. Our people are ready to worship on Sundays, but (insert complaint here) a: the band is having a rough time getting things together b: things are starting to feel rote c: people think the music is too loud/soft/traditional/jazzy/rock and roll d: the Spirit's just not moving."

Don't get me wrong - many of these things could be a distraction from worship and I understand where people are coming from. These things are valuable assets to me when I worship. As a professional musician (meaning I get hired by other random people to be on their projects or play at their events) and as a huge proponent of the liturgy as part of our worship services, I place great value in the tools of our worship to bring us all together and express ourselves to God and to each other in an affirming and honest way. But, I have to ask the question, why are these things typically what constitute our worship crisis moments?

Undoubtedly, the Church is in a crisis mode right now. People are leaving faster than they're coming in. We're divided on issues of theology, human rights, leadership, and style. People are praying for revival. And with worship...well, with worship we are in a crisis too. The question for me is - are we ready to talk about it?

There are a lot of things we're doing that are powerfully impacting the world. There are a lot of things we're "doing right." I think the thing that catches me off guard is our often slow willingness to question or to evaluate based on dreams bigger than our preferences.

I was recently at a conference and heard Sally Morgenthaler speak on worship - the Subtraction Factor - what we've been asked to substitute for abundant life in Christ and how this is present in our worship. It was a heart felt and challenging presentation. I was curious to see how people would respond in the dialogue time. There were two distinct lines of thought posed back to Sally...

#1 - we don't need to go to church to worship. I can sit on a mountaintop alone and worship God well. {Jodi's random internal monologue: ...well, I hear where you're coming from, but what has happened to our ecclesiology? Our identity as the Church? Something's missing...}

or

#2 - well, I wonder if you see it this way because you haven't visited our church? In our congregation we do X, Y, and Z, and you can really sense God there. {Internal monologue again: No doubt, the people that are gathering there love God, but trust me, to quote Twyla Tharpe, it's all been done before. I wonder if a post-Church refugee would encounter God the way you claim he is available on Sundays at your church?}

I don't want to sound angry or bitter. On the contrary, I am hoping we can have a conversation about this that is productive, encouraging, and challenging for the Church universal. What I'm curious about is why we so often think our church is the exception and not the rule? Why we so often think "we got it right." Hear me out, I know I don't have it right. That's why I keep re-initiating the conversation on behalf of the people who are leaving en masse because they encounter God much more honestly "out there" then they do "in here."

What does a worship crisis look like? I know that it's infinitely more than a media snag or a drummer who can't keep tempo. What if our worship crisis, as the Church, is not so much about where we see God, but about where we miss God? What if it's about our assumptions that we know how to worship simply because we are Christians? What if people are leaving the church, not because we're not culturally relevant enough or not pop culture savvy enough, but because they have much more profound sacred encounters with God throughout the week than the ones we offer to serve up? What if our very definition of worship - experiencing God - is off target by the inch that may lead us off a mile?

These are questions we have to discover our way into the answers - and we have to do it together, not as isolated communities or as generations set apart. We need to listen carefully to the voices of past saints, modern refugees, and those that are working for truth and beauty. We need to look carefully at what is happening inside and outside the Church and realize that our worship is a reflection back to us of our own identity and the God we profess to know and yet worship in his unknowableness.

As we keep serving the Church and living richly, let's also have our eyes open to see things beyond our expectations and our own stories. Let's ask the hard questions together and seek God at work in the mysterious and counter-intuitive in our day-to-day. I'm curious to know how you would define the worship crisis of the Church?


Jodi Adams is a teacher, author, and visionary for community worship. She serves as a teaching pastor and worship pastor at an urban church.

Passionate about empowering artists and leaders to take their congregations beyond the culture box, Jodi is a contributor to CTI's FaithVisuals.com and GiftedforLeadership.com and speaks regularly on the convergence of cultural issues and worship.

Jodi is currently completing her M.Div. at Denver Seminary and finishing her first book, which is due out next year. She and her jazzy husband, Justin, live in Denver with their three children: Sara, Anna-Michelle, and Leo, along with Karma the Wonder Dog.