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.