Peanut Butter and Liturgy

Every single day, my husband eats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.

He assembles it the night before and packs it in his lunchbox alongside a mozzarella cheese stick, a pack of Lance crackers, a fig bar, a packet of oatmeal, and a clean coffee mug. Sometimes, I manage to get him to eat some fresh fruit.

The routine of eating the same breakfast and lunch each day may be boring, but his belly is filled nonetheless, and he has the fuel he needs to make it through his workday. 

A few weeks ago, my parents and brother joined me for the Celtic Evening Prayer & Holy Eucharist Service at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. The services are liturgical, traditional, and sacred. Warm, flickering candles decorate every inch of the sanctuary and altar, and parishioners are invited to light a votive during the service as a symbol of their prayers. At this particular service, the organ master was joined by a harpist and violinist who played gorgeous arrangements of Celtic hymns. 

My brother and I were raised in a Southern Baptist household—about as far from Episcopal as you can get on the Protestant spectrum. Until the past few years, neither of us experienced much outside of the tradition of our upbringing. However, I have developed a special interest in the more ancient practices of our faith, and my brother has worked at a large Presbyterian church as an events director for the past couple of years. 

After the service at St. Paul’s, I asked my brother what he thought. He said he really liked the words in the liturgy and enjoyed the music. However, to him, it seemed impersonal. 

I would have agreed with him until recently. His reaction made me think about how we experience worship—and connect with God. 

Personal Interpretation of Christ

One of the cornerstones of the Evangelical faith is a personal relationship with Jesus. The exact phrase isn’t anywhere in scripture. Still, it is a pervasive, if not elusive, idea among Evangelicals. Nobody can tell you exactly what it means to have a personal relationship with Jesus. Considering we aren’t in the same plane of existence as the risen savior, it’s impossible to have a personal relationship with him in the same way we share interpersonal relationships with family and friends. We are connected to the divine through the Spirit of God, who dwells in the hearts of all believers. 

Instead, we personalize every facet of our faith and focus on our individual experiences. Rather than a personal relationship with Christ, it becomes a personal interpretation of Christ. How can I apply this Bible verse to my life? What are my takeaways from this week’s sermon? Which song in the worship set made me feel the closest to God? Which church makes me feel the best about myself? 

Rather than a personal relationship with Christ, it becomes a personal interpretation of Christ.

Our personal faith experience matters, but it isn’t the only thing that matters. 

What Really Matters

As a writer, I’m naturally drawn to liturgy because it is prayer in poems. The words are beautiful and scripture-rich. I have a personal connection to liturgy—but the shared aspect of liturgy is the most exceptional part. 

When you participate in liturgy, you are one of many offering the same prayers—an act of communal worship and unity. As I mentioned earlier, the idea of a personal relationship with Christ isn’t mentioned in the Bible—but community is. Over and over again. 

Liturgy allows you to share in confession, profession, and remembrance alongside other Christians. It unifies the experience through words and actions. Non-liturgical worship may bring believers together, but everyone worships in their own way—sitting, kneeling, standing, or dancing. While this style of worship is just as pleasing to the Lord as liturgical worship, I believe liturgy has the benefit of unity that we don’t see in free worship. 

It also builds discipline. While the term discipline often leaves a bad taste in the mouth, it is very important to our spiritual and personal development. Liturgy provides a framework for worship—a prescription for a steady, quiet soul.

When I’m worshipping freely, it can be hard to focus. So much of free worship is worshipping with your mind. Evangelical worship leaders encourage you to focus your mind on the Lord and invite the Holy Spirit in. This is easier said than done, especially after a stressful week, when your thoughts are preoccupied, or you’re just feeling emotionally drained. Liturgy incorporates your voice and body into worship, which I find greatly helps settle my mind. It is medication, and a focused, worshipful heart is the side effect. 

Boring Doesn’t Mean Bad

In addition to being impersonal, another common complaint of liturgy is that it is boring and repetitive. Modern Christians have been conditioned to expect a certain level of excitement from church—a rockin’ worship set, an engaging message, and an educational and entertaining children’s program. Liturgical churches do offer some of this, but you’ll very rarely find people headbanging to a pipe-organ arrangement of Amazing Grace. 

Much like my husband’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich, liturgy can be boring, especially if you don’t connect with the written word in the same way as me. But it gives you what you need. 

A simple sandwich provides the nourishment you need to get to your next meal, just as simple, rote prayers give Christians the connection to the divine they need to make it through their days. 

But worship isn’t just about us, what we get out of it, or how it makes us feel. It’s about God—the person of our worship, our adoration. 

I don’t pack my husband’s lunch often, but when I do, I usually make him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. No matter what, he appreciates the effort, and I think God feels the same way about our worship.

Whether we only have the energy to show up and follow a script or are eager for unrestrained adoration and praise, the Lord is pleased.