Worship Beyond The Sanctuary

When I was a kid, I used to endure church services, imagining them as a form of torture, administered by sadists who particularly had it in for adolescent boys. 

To be fair, the church services of my youth were a particularly dry affair, and entirely devoid of joy. No one was having fun.  It wasn't allowed. 

They were designed to evoke a sense of guilt and dread (I was certain), so that you would be compelled to go down the aisle during the altar call to have a sweaty usher put his arm around your shoulder as you knelt on the steps leading up to the chancel, to pray with you about rededicating your life to Jesus, or something.

I realize that was oddly specific. You see, I did go to the altar a time or two, but only when I had done something particularly bad the week before and wanted to hedge my bets in case God was irked about it. 

When I got older, I stopped going.  I had basically given up on any real belief in God, and I figured that if a God existed that demanded my worship, that kind of God was petty and weaker than I'd been taught. 

However, something drew me back to church years later, and in a different setting with a different mindset, I discovered that I actually enjoyed attending worship services.  

I've spent the last twenty-odd years of my life in ministry trying to shape the worship services I lead with that desperately bored kid in mind.  I want worship services to be something uplifting and inspiring, and an event that people want to experience. 

But I still find myself asking, what does God really want from us in terms of worship?  Is the Sunday service the only way we show our devotion?  

In Robert A. Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land, one of the characters, Jubal, reflects on the way humans conceive of worship:

“If God existed (a question concerning which Jubal maintained a meticulous intellectual neutrality) and if He desired to be worshiped (a proposition which Jubal found inherently improbable but conceivably possible in the dim light of his own ignorance), then (stipulating affirmatively both the above) it nevertheless seemed wildly unlikely to Jubal to the point of reductio ad absurdum that a God potent to shape galaxies would be titillated and swayed by the whoop-te-do nonsense the Fosterites offered Him as ‘worship.’”

This sharp observation cuts through a misconception that still lingers today: that worship is primarily about performance, spectacle, or ritual display. 

Indeed, the gathered worship of the church is vital—it strengthens community, unites our voices in praise, and reminds us we are part of something larger than ourselves. 

The psalmist exhorts, “Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation” (Psalm 95:1). Corporate worship not only forms us but also nourishes us.

But if worship ends there, Jubal’s skepticism rings uncomfortably true. What kind of God would be satisfied merely with noise and motion? The prophet Amos declared God’s own words: 

“I hate, I despise your festivals, and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies. … But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” (Amos 5:21, 24). 

Worship severed from justice and mercy is empty.

True worship does not stop at the sanctuary door. It permeates our neighborhoods, workplaces, and relationships. It means serving the hungry, welcoming the stranger, advocating for the oppressed, and embodying Christ’s love in tangible ways. 

As Paul wrote in Romans 12:1, “Offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.”

We honor God not only with our hearts and voices but with our hands and feet. When we live compassionately and faithfully, worship becomes incarnate—alive and in action.

May your worship never be confined to the four walls of a church alone but become visible in the way you live each day. Let your love be your liturgy, and let your service be your song.

Prayer:
God of justice and mercy, teach us to worship You not only with words but with deeds. Form our lives into living offerings that reflect Your love in the world. Amen.

Reflection Questions:

1. In what ways do I limit my understanding of worship to what happens in church?

2. How can I make my daily actions a form of worship to God?

3. Where is God calling me to let justice and mercy flow through my life this week?