Why Do We Meet for Corporate Worship?

The mainline church today is often victim to the great sin of needless formality and tradition. We get locked into the seven deadliest words in the church, “We have always done it this way.” Congregations and Corporate worship services so often starve for variety and for true Biblical purpose. We are consumed with meeting our own needs and we fail to be relevant to our culture. When a brave pastor or worship leader does add a new twist they are often crucified for it. “We don’t do that here.”

I remember my very first pastorate. The church sanctuary was beautiful, long, with a center aisle, and huge central pulpit elevated about ten feet above the sanctuary floor. There was space in front of the pulpit for the communion table and then adequate room for all the elders to gather for communion service. No one ever sat in the first eight rows of pews. (We were Presbyterians after all.) I felt as though I was in another room given the distance between me, up in the pulpit, and the first parishioners in row nine.

I came up with a brilliant solution. Early one Sunday morning I entered church and used the Ushers’ Ropes to block off the back eight pews. These were the rows that contained the greatest number of congregants on any given Sunday. I assumed everyone would just move forward eight pews and all would be happy. I would not feel so distant from the people and they would be closer to the front. Later, when visitors did arrive they would find seats handy at the rear, problem solved.

Time for worship arrived and the commotion was deafening. How could anyone worship God seated anywhere other than their own pews? I stood my ground and the ropes remained. They stood their ground and there was virtually no worship that day. Even worse, no one listened to my expertly crafted sermon. Later that afternoon I sheepishly removed the Ushers’ Ropes.

Seems a silly example, I know. Yet we are so petty and picky about our own comforts and peculiar wants and needs that as a group we become very unfriendly and unwelcoming to strangers.

There is an old story about the First Baptist Church in a wonderful city in the south. It was the preeminent church in that town and in the entire region. The church was filled to standing room only every Sunday. The Head Usher, Deacon Brown, ran a tight ship. He and his fellow ushers handled coat hanging and seating  with expert precision. The offering was received every Sunday with the kind of formality reserved for the changing of the guard at the Tomb of the Unknowns in Arlington National Cemetery.

One warm Sunday following the Call to Worship and during the first hymn a young man entered the sanctuary. He was dressed in old clothes, needed a bath, a haircut, and above all else he was barefooted. The contrast with the white shirts, suits, conservative ties, dresses and fur wraps was over-the -top. He then proceeded to march down the center aisle looking for a seat. No one budged an inch. Not finding a pew seat he sat down right in the middle of the aisle cross-legged on the floor.

The hymn ended and all were seated. You could cut the tension with a knife as murmurs wafted over the entire sanctuary. Finally, Deacon Brown, with the erect posture of a Marine on Parade proceeded down the aisle toward the young man. You could hear the chorus of thoughts, “Deacon Brown will handle this disgrace.” When the old Deacon reached the young man he carefully bent low with creaking joints and assumed a position cross-legged right next to him on the floor. Deacon Brown never lost sight of the purpose of the gospel, “to save lost people.” Nor did he lose sight of the purpose of the church, “be a vessel for that message.”