The Spectacle and the Sacrifice
I love the experience of worship.
I love a room that has been thoughtfully designed. I love lighting that helps tell a story, imagery that makes you feel something before anyone says a word, a band that has rehearsed until the music feels effortless, and a moment so beautifully crafted that it takes your breath away.
I love the spectacle.
And, funny enough, Scripture gives me reason to believe God isn't opposed to it either.
Read the descriptions of the tabernacle. Read about the temple. Read about David bringing the ark into Jerusalem. Read 2 Chronicles 5 and picture the musicians, singers, trumpeters, priests, temple, sacrifices, sound, and glory filling the room.
Or just skip to Revelation.
Thunder. Lightning. Rainbows. Creatures. Elders. Crowns. A sea like glass. Countless angels. Every tribe, language, people, and nation. Voices roaring together around the throne.
God does not seem embarrassed by beauty, creativity, volume, movement, artistry, or grandeur.
He created them.
So maybe spectacle isn't the problem.
God Has Always Used Beauty
When God instructed Israel to build the tabernacle, He didn't tell them to make it merely functional.
There was gold.
There were precious stones.
There were intricate fabrics, carved details, colors, fragrances, specialized garments, and carefully crafted objects. God even specifically filled Bezalel with His Spirit and gave him wisdom, understanding, knowledge, and skill for artistic craftsmanship (Exodus 31:1–5).
Think about that.
Artistic skill wasn't merely tolerated around the presence of God. It was empowered by the Spirit of God and employed for the glory of God.
Later, David invested enormous resources into preparing for the temple. Musicians were organized. Singers were appointed. Instruments were made. The worship of God's people could be loud, beautiful, coordinated, expensive, artistic, and remarkably elaborate.
None of those things automatically made it worship.
But neither did they disqualify it from being worship.
That's an important distinction.
A light can glorify God.
A video can glorify God.
A choir can glorify God.
A quiet acoustic guitar can glorify God.
A pipe organ can glorify God.
A beautifully designed room can glorify God.
A congregation singing with no instruments at all can glorify God.
The question isn't first, "How much production is there?"
The deeper question is:
"Who is all of this for?"
Because God Has Also Rejected the Spectacle
The same Bible that gives us beautiful, extravagant expressions of worship also gives us some frightening warnings about them.
Through Amos, God tells Israel:
"I hate, I despise your religious festivals; your assemblies are a stench to me."
—Amos 5:21
Then He goes after the music:
"Away with the noise of your songs! I will not listen to the music of your harps."
—Amos 5:23
That's remarkable because songs weren't the problem.
Harps weren't the problem.
Gatherings weren't the problem.
God had commanded His people to gather. Scripture repeatedly commands them to sing. Instruments are all over the Psalms.
The problem was that their external worship and internal orientation no longer agreed.
Isaiah gives us the same picture. God confronts people who are bringing sacrifices, keeping festivals, lifting their hands, and praying—things that could all be legitimate acts of worship—and essentially says, I don't want this from you.
Why?
Because their lives were pointed somewhere else.
The spectacle said, "You are worthy."
Their lives said otherwise.
And God wasn't fooled.
That's the danger of spectacle.
But here's where I think we sometimes stop the conversation too soon.
Simplicity Can Be Fake Too
Once we've seen the danger of performance, it's tempting to make the opposite conclusion:
"Forget all that production."
"We don't need the lights."
"God doesn't care about excellence."
"It's not about what happens on a stage. It's about living a surrendered life."
And that last sentence is absolutely true.
Romans 12:1 describes offering our bodies as a living sacrifice as our "true and proper worship."
Worship is absolutely the life laid down.
But there's a problem.
The life laid down can be performed too.
Jesus talks about people giving to the poor so others will notice.
That's a good action.
Wrong audience.
He talks about people praying publicly so others will be impressed by their spirituality.
Good action.
Wrong audience.
He talks about people fasting and intentionally making themselves look miserable so everyone knows how devoted they are.
Good discipline.
Wrong audience.
Matthew 6 is fascinating because Jesus isn't condemning the activities.
He's exposing the orientation underneath them.
A person can raise their hands for show.
A person can also refuse to raise their hands for show.
Someone can spend thousands of dollars creating an incredible worship environment because they desperately want people to encounter the beauty and majesty of God.
Someone else can stand on a bare stage with an acoustic guitar while secretly being incredibly proud of how "authentic" and "unproduced" their worship is.
One person can serve visibly to be praised.
Another can serve quietly and secretly congratulate themselves for being the kind of Christian who doesn't need recognition.
You can perform extravagance.
You can perform simplicity.
You can perform generosity.
You can perform sacrifice.
You can even perform humility.
Anything that can be offered to God can eventually be offered to self instead.
That's why reducing this conversation to "spectacle versus surrender" doesn't take us deep enough.
The real issue is worship.
The Question Is Always What Has the Heart
This is where the heart of ReWorship keeps bringing me back.
Worship is not ultimately defined by the size of the expression.
Worship is the orientation of the person.
What has my heart's affection?
What has my mind's attention?
What am I trying to magnify?
Who am I hoping will be impressed?
Who gets the glory when this is over?
That means an enormous, meticulously produced worship gathering can be true worship.
And washing dishes for your family can be true worship.
A choir of hundreds can worship.
A person quietly choosing forgiveness can worship.
Someone designing a breathtaking visual environment can worship.
Someone anonymously giving money away can worship.
A drummer playing with every ounce of skill they possess can worship.
A tired mother getting up one more time in the middle of the night and serving her child in love can worship.
Paul gives us language expansive enough to hold all of it:
"Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."
—1 Corinthians 10:31
Whatever you do.
There it is.
The spectacle can be worship.
The sacrifice can be worship.
The song can be worship.
The silence can be worship.
The stage can be worship.
The workplace can be worship.
The production can be worship.
The ordinary can be worship.
Let it all be for the glory of God.
And That's What Makes This So Difficult to Judge
Here's the uncomfortable part.
From the outside, you often can't tell.
You can see the lights.
You can't see the heart.
You can see someone's hands raised.
You can't automatically know why they're raised.
You can see someone serving quietly behind the scenes.
You still can't automatically know why they're doing it.
We are remarkably quick to assign motives to expressions we don't understand.
"That's just a show."
"They're trying to manufacture something."
"She's just trying to get attention."
"He wants everyone to think he's spiritual."
"They're doing all of that to grow their church."
Maybe.
But maybe not.
Scripture gives us responsibility to discern teaching, examine fruit, confront sin, exercise wisdom, and protect the church. Discernment matters.
But discernment is different from pretending we have access to another person's hidden motives.
Paul gives a sobering warning:
"Judge nothing before the appointed time; wait until the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart."
—1 Corinthians 4:5
The motives of the heart belong finally to God.
That should make us considerably slower to pronounce judgment over another person's worship.
Because God may receive something you're criticizing.
And God may reject something you're applauding.
We simply cannot see everything He sees.
The Better Question
So perhaps when we encounter worship that looks different from ours, our first question shouldn't be:
"Is that too much?"
Or:
"Is that enough?"
Maybe we should begin somewhere else.
Is Jesus being magnified?
Is truth being proclaimed?
Are people being invited to participate rather than merely consume?
Is the church being pointed toward God rather than toward personalities?
Is the fruit of this worship producing greater love for God and neighbor?
And then, before examining everyone else's worship, perhaps we ask the much more uncomfortable question:
Who am I doing this for?
Because I can build the production for myself.
And I can reject the production for myself.
I can sing for myself.
I can serve for myself.
I can sacrifice for myself.
I can pursue excellence for myself.
And I can make a public display of how little I care about excellence—for myself.
The human heart is remarkably capable of turning almost anything into self-worship.
So the answer isn't less worship.
It's true worship.
Give Him All of It
I don't want a church afraid of beauty because beauty might become performance.
I want a church so captivated by the beauty of God that every other beauty becomes an offering back to Him.
Use the lights.
Write the song.
Paint the picture.
Design the room.
Rehearse the transition.
Play the instrument beautifully.
Build something breathtaking.
And then give it to God.
But when the lights turn off, keep worshiping.
Forgive the person who hurt you.
Tell the truth when lying would benefit you.
Put the phone down and be present with your family.
Serve when nobody notices.
Give when nobody applauds.
Choose God's way when your way would be easier.
Lay your life down.
And give that to God too.
We don't have to choose between the spectacle and the sacrifice.
Scripture has room for both.
It also warns us that either one can become empty when the heart is somewhere else.
So whether your worship fills an arena or happens in a kitchen where nobody sees it, let the prayer underneath it remain the same:
God, this is for You.
Let every light point to You.
Let every song magnify You.
Let every beautiful thing reflect You.
Let every sacrifice honor You.
Let every unseen act delight You.
Let my private life and my public praise tell the same story.
Because whether spectacular or ordinary, visible or hidden, loud or quiet—
"Whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God."
That is worship.
Are We Actually Prepared to Worship?
We spend a lot of time preparing worship. But how much time do we spend preparing to worship?
The worship leader prepares.
The band rehearses.
The production team checks everything.
The pastor studies.
The slides are built.
The songs are chosen.
The transitions are planned.
The room is ready.
But what about the people walking into it?
More importantly:
What about me?
Am I prepared to worship?
I recently came across a Barna study that stopped me in my tracks—not because it was new, but because it wasn't.
It was published in 2001.
Twenty-five years ago.
Barna found that 92% of churched adults said worshiping God was very important to them. That's encouraging.
But then the study went deeper.
Only about one-third of church attenders said they always experienced God's presence or interacted with Him at church. Another third said it happened often, while the remaining third experienced it less frequently.
Then came the statistic I haven't been able to stop thinking about:
Only four out of ten adults said they always came to church having prepared themselves to worship.
That means the overwhelming majority said worship mattered.
But far fewer were actually preparing themselves to do it.
We Prepare the Worship Service. Do We Prepare the Worshiper?
Barna made this observation:
“Part of the challenge may relate to personal preparation to worship.”
The study went on to find that many church attenders did not practice worship throughout the week, instead treating it as a special weekend activity. And while 68% said they always looked forward to worshiping God, millions still struggled to clear their minds enough to actually focus on Him.
I know this research is 25 years old.
But I fear little has changed.
We may have gotten much better at preparing worship services without necessarily getting much better at preparing worshipers.
Our technology is better.
Our arrangements are better.
Our musicianship is better.
Our environments are better.
Our planning systems are better.
And I love all of that. I believe excellence matters. Preparation matters. Creativity matters.
But none of those things can prepare my heart for me.
A perfectly prepared worship service cannot substitute for an unprepared worshiper.
Worship Isn't Something You Turn On
George Barna's comments following the study are fascinating. He observed that many people were attempting to walk into a worship gathering and immediately enter into something they had given little attention to beforehand.
His conclusion was that a truly worshipful experience isn't something people can simply “turn on and turn off at will.”
That language caught me.
Because isn't that exactly what we sometimes expect?
We live hurried, distracted, self-focused lives all week.
Then we walk into church.
The countdown hits zero.
The lights change.
The first chord rings out.
And suddenly:
Worship.
Go.
But worship doesn't work like a light switch.
Because worship isn't primarily a musical activity.
Worship is the orientation of our lives around the One who is worthy.
That's why I've become increasingly convinced that what happens in the gathered church cannot be disconnected from what happens in the ordinary life of the worshiper.
Sunday worship is meant to be the gathered expression of something already happening.
We Don't Start Worshiping When the Music Starts
This is something I talk about throughout ReWorship.
Corporate worship was never meant to carry the entire weight of our relationship with God.
We don't arrive on Sunday empty and ask the band to manufacture hunger for God in us.
We bring our lives.
We bring the prayers we've prayed.
We bring the Scripture we've been sitting with.
We bring the gratitude we've practiced.
We bring the obedience we've chosen.
We bring the repentance we've walked through.
We bring the God we've been delighting in on Tuesday, surrendering to on Thursday and depending on Saturday.
Then we gather with the people of God and say:
Let's tell Him together.
The easiest church to lead in worship is the church that wants to worship.
And that desire doesn't have to begin when the band does.
Maybe Our Churches Need to Learn How to Prepare
One of the most striking conclusions in the Barna study wasn't really about music at all.
Barna said many people had “never been taught much about worship.” They became frustrated when they couldn't connect with God at a deeper level but didn't know what to do about it.
That sounds less like a worship-leading problem and more like a worship-discipleship problem.
What if we actually taught our churches how to prepare to worship?
Not legalistically.
Not, If you didn't have thirty minutes of prayer before church, you're doing it wrong.
But intentionally.
What if we helped people understand:
You don't have to wait for us.
You can begin before you leave the house.
You can begin in the car.
You can put your phone away for a few minutes.
You can pray:
God, clear the distractions in me.
Search my heart.
Remind me who You are.
Help me see You.
Help me hear You.
Help me respond to You.
Today isn't primarily about what I receive. I've come to offer myself again to You.
That's preparation.
And honestly, that's worship.
Come With an Offering
Throughout Scripture, God's people didn't approach Him casually.
The Psalms repeatedly give language to this intentionality:
“Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise.”
—Psalm 100:4
Notice the posture.
Enter with thanksgiving.
There is already something in their hands—or more accurately, in their hearts—when they enter.
Psalm 96 says:
“Ascribe to the LORD the glory due his name; bring an offering and come into his courts.”
Bring an offering.
What if we recovered that mentality?
Not simply:
I wonder what worship is going to be like today.
But:
What am I bringing?
Gratitude.
Praise.
Attention.
Surrender.
Repentance.
Expectation.
My whole self.
Romans 12 takes the idea even further: “present your bodies as a living sacrifice… which is your spiritual worship.”
I don't merely come looking for a worship experience.
I come as the offering.
The Goal Isn't Better Participation
And this is where I think worship leaders have to think bigger.
Of course I want people to sing.
I want hands raised.
I want people engaged.
I want our churches to be expressive in their worship.
But ultimately, I'm not trying to manufacture participation.
I'm trying to help form worshipers.
Because I don't simply want someone who knows what to do when the chorus hits.
I want someone who desires God.
Someone who knows how to turn their attention toward Him.
Someone who recognizes His worth.
Someone whose worship on Sunday is connected to their surrender on Monday.
Someone who doesn't need a worship leader to convince them that God is worthy because they have been discovering His worth all week.
That's a very different goal.
Twenty-Five Years Later
Again, this study was published in 2001.
And that's the part I can't shake.
Twenty-five years ago, researchers were already telling us:
Worship mattered deeply to churchgoers.
But many weren't preparing themselves for it.
Many weren't worshiping throughout the week.
Many struggled to clear their minds and focus on God.
Many had never really been taught how to worship.
And I fear little has changed.
But I'm hopeful it can.
Actually, I'm convinced it can.
And I think the implications could shake the nations.
Imagine churches filled not simply with people who attend worship services, but people who are learning to live lives of worship.
Imagine thousands of people walking through church doors already hungry for God.
Imagine worship leaders who aren't spending all their energy trying to convince a room to participate, but are giving language to a praise already rising from the people.
Imagine children growing up understanding that worship isn't the songs before the sermon—it's the proper response of their whole lives to the God who is worthy.
Imagine families worshiping throughout the week.
Imagine worship gatherings becoming the overflow of thousands of private moments of surrender, gratitude, obedience and delight in God.
What would happen if the Church didn't just get better at preparing worship services?
What if the Church became a people prepared to worship?
I want to find out.
Maybe it starts before the first note is ever played.
Maybe it starts with us walking into the room saying:
My heart is ready. My attention is Yours. My life is the offering.
Let's worship.