Reading time has been difficult to come by recently. Hence the distance between posts on Jonathan Edwards’ Religious Affections. This morning I was able to read what Edwards lists as the third test of the genuineness of our affections in response to God. This led me to reflect on the character and atmosphere of our worship as Christians.
Edwards makes a distinction between what he calls the natural perfections of God and His moral perfections. The distinctions here are subtle, but the natural perfections are God’s power, majesty, omniscience and the like. His moral perfections are his love, mercy, faithfulness, and so forth. Unconverted men may come to have knowledge of God’s natural perfections, and may even have occasion to become aware of his moral perfections. They may even be moved to stand in awe of God for what they see of him. But only the truly converted will be drawn to celebrate and adore the moral perfections of God.
This distinction causes me to reflect upon the nature of our worship. I am sensing three potential theological foci of worship.
The first is worship which focuses almost exclusively upon the work God has done for his people. In this, we celebrate his saving acts and his works of redemption. We respond with words and hymns of gratitude. Our hearts are filled with thanksgiving. Our focus here is on what God has done for us, and we respond having reflected on those matters. Our view of the cross in such worship is one in which we see that Jesus died FOR ME. God has done a good thing for me. That excites us because what we most feared is now removed. This is good, but such worship does not necessitate that we love God. We may simply be grateful for what he has done just as we might be thankful for a good Samaritan who changes our tire on the highway, without feeling any particular love for him.
A second possible foci of worship is upon the majesty and wonder and might of the creator God. Here is God who is great and powerful. He has created the vastness of space and the intricacies of the human eye. He can speak and waters part and he can speak and people die. There is an awe which arises before the majesty and infinite power of such a God. Worship is full of reverence and reflections upon our own smallness. All the earth is quiet and still before him. He is not a tame lion. Such worship is full of words and hymns and language which considers God at a distance, from the foot of Sinai looking up at the trembling and smoking mountain. It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of such a God. Our view of the cross within such worship is one in which the holy wrath of God is poured out upon the terrible scourge of our sin. Again, nothing here is untrue. But if this is where we stay, there is nothing which distinguishes this as Christian worship. We are here moved by the natural perfections of God. It is possible for us to so limit worship to such themes that we make no progress up the mountain and through the curtain which Jesus has rent in two.
The third foci is one which turns our attention to the absolute beauty of the person of God himself. God is one who can be loved because he is love. His mercy is seen and so attached to his person that those beholding it find that they love him. He is the real person behind the cross who sent his son because of the love he has for his people. In such worship, the view of the cross that captivates is one in which the great love of God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is displayed there. Such worship will reflect something of Psalm 18 (“I love you, O Lord”) or Psalm (“to gaze upon your beauty”). Such worship is emotive and may have the aura of a love song to Jesus, as offensive as that sounds to many. This, too, is good, unless of course the emotional experience itself becomes a replacement for knowledge of the true God to whom the emotions are to be attached.
I have not before worked through these distinctions in quite this way, so perhaps I can be forgiven any excess or imprecision. Clearly, our worship should be “blended” in the best sort of way. God’s majesty exposes our smallness and sin, driving us to the cross, from which we emerge deeply grateful and deeply moved, captivated by the beauty of God’s person, and longing to know and enjoy him more. Our liturgy should reflect this and our hymnody should support it. The personality of a church may lead it to unhealthy emphases. Of that we should be aware and cautious.