This Is Not That: Worship
Why Reimagine Worship?
What if worship isn’t what we thought it was? Not the stage lights, not the setlist, not the goosebumps when the bridge swells just right.
What if the whole show—the pews and pulpits and polished prayers—wasn’t actually what the New Testament was pointing to?
Strange thought, isn’t it?
That maybe what we inherited was less Jesus and more hand-me-downs from the moment the Church pulled Greek philosophy into the story and hitched its wagon to the Roman Empire (see: This Is Not That: Backstory).
And yet, we’re told to call this thing: “corporate worship.”
Our way to glorify God.
Our response.
Our reverence.
Our adoration.
But here’s the unsettling thing it took me years to see: however you frame it, this version leaves us blind.
Blind to who Jesus really is.
Blind to who we’ve already become in Him.
Blind to what a life lived with Jesus was all about.
So maybe the real question isn’t: Why reimagine worship?
Maybe it’s: What if worship was always meant to be freer, closer, more alive than we dared to believe?
Because if worship isn’t about the service or the sound… then what is it?
It all comes down to this:
Who Is Jesus?
Not the Jesus dressed up in expectations or strapped to our systems. Not the Jesus of empire, duty, or endless striving.
But the Jesus who comes to us as friend (Luke 7:34). The Jesus who doesn’t demand a performance but pulls out a chair.
That’s the only question that matters, and one this series keeps pressing.
Because if all things were created in Him, through Him, for Him—if all things are sustained by Him—if all of God delighted to dwell in Him and reconcile all things in Him (Col 1:15–20)…
Then who we are is forever bound up in who He is.
“And if One died for all, then all died” (2 Cor 5:14). That means His death wasn’t just for us—it included us.
As Paul wrote elsewhere, “We were therefore buried with Him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead … we too may live a new life” (Rom 6:4).
And that’s not just future tense. “God … made us alive together with Christ … and raised us up with Him and seated us with Him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus” (Eph 2:5–6).
In other words, our story didn’t end at the cross—it began there. The life we now live is His resurrected life, “hidden with Christ in God” (Col 3:3).
This is why Paul could say, with confidence—despite our struggles: “From now on, we regard no one according to the flesh” (2 Cor 5:16).
We are new, whole, and holy (1 Cor. 6:11). Already.
Jesus isn’t the relationship you have to build. He is the relationship.
Which means worship is not you displaying your devotion. It’s you trusting the devotion that’s already true in Him.
The Problem We Face
In describing what has been labeled “worship,” James Torrance used the phrase: unitarian worship. Something you do, in a building, on a Sunday, with a minister’s help.
And that’s the thing: when worship becomes your side of the bargain, the God Jesus spoke of is lost, and the relationship Jesus described is gone.
The result?
Worship becomes the barometer of your faithfulness. The weekly treadmill that never stops… if you’re serious.
Which is a problem.
Because if worship is how you validate grace? Then grace was never grace in the first place.
Jesus said it straight: “What is impossible for mortals is possible for God” (Luke 18:27). The impossible was never your next big breakthrough. The impossible was God—single-handedly—brining you into eternal life.
The good news? In Christ, God already did the impossible (Eph 2:5-6).
Ancient Roots, Old Ghosts
Remember where Israel came from?
Every nation around them, everything they had ever seen, had created gods. Angry ones. Bloodthirsty ones. Gods who needed to be fed sacrifices to be appeased—animals, harvests, even children.
So Israel’s early worship in the Old Testament was shaped in that neighborhood. Altars. Services. Rituals.
It doesn’t mean the Scriptures got it wrong. It means the Bible intentionally tells the story of frail people slowly waking up to God’s true reality (see This Is Not That: Scripture).
God as master.
People as slaves.
That was the ancient imagination.
Then God shows up in the person of Jesus—and He calls God “Father” 165 times. To put that shift in perspective: the Old Testament refers to God as “Father” about 15 times. The New Testament? 279 times.
Not slave-master.
A Father who loves.
And with that shift, our understanding of worship changes from appeasement to astonishment. From “maybe He’ll move for us if we honor Him more” to “you will never not be my sons and daughters” (Romans 8:17).
Modern Roots, Same Ghosts
Fast forward.
Modern worship has the same problem. It’s just baptized with guitars and lighting rigs, or robes and candles.
For some, worship is an event what makes them feel close to God. For others, it’s a service designed to help them explain God to outsiders. For many, it’s an anxious chase for an experience we’ve been told is “the Spirit of God.”
But here’s the problem: you can get that same emotional rush at a Coldplay concert. Which is why former worship leaders are now blunt about what they watched week after week: an act of spiritual self-gratification.
And yes, there’s another word for self-gratification.
In short: what masquerades as “worship” is still superstition—an old habit Israel knew well.
Still sn attempt to crack a code we think needs cracking.
Still us trying to conjure something that’s already true.
But worship is not how we chase the peace of assurance. Worship is the daily life that flows when the peace of assurance has already found us.
To worship God “in spirit and in truth” (John 4:23) isn’t about a formula. It’s about what happens when the Light of Life exposes us—and we discover that “light” was already shining—from within us (John 1).
Does Worship Give God Glory?
Let’s be honest.
That’s the question that brings the weight.
But worship doesn’t give God glory. Because if God is who Jesus says He is, then God’s glory isn’t running a deficit. He’s not waiting on your contribution.
That’s just ancient, pagan religion in new clothes: a god who needs us.
The God Jesus revealed? He doesn’t need us. He wants us. Loves us. Likes us. Lives in us. “In Him we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28).
So worship isn’t about filling God’s tank. It’s about enjoying His fullness.
Sometimes the best way to see it is to put it in everyday terms—just to notice how odd what we do really is.
Imagine how awkward it would be if your kids gathered around the breakfast table every morning to read your letters and sing songs about you—when all you wanted was to share eggs and laugh together.
That’s the difference.
The religious view of God gathers around performance. Jesus reveals a God who gathers with us around a table. Not a deity desperate for applause, but a Father, Son, and Spirit who just want to eat with the people they made.
Perhaps this is why the early Church didn’t have stages, set lists, or sermons like ours. They had tables in everyday homes. And at those tables, resurrection was proclaimed and freedom was declared over shared meals.
Worship Without “Should”
Not seeing the God who has no need for us, just wants to be with us, is where we often stumble.
It’s why people build worship around “shoulds.” You should go to a service. You should pray more. You should sing louder.
But “shoulds” never lead to love.
“Shoulds” are the language of law—words that “nullify the grace of God” (Galatians 2:21). In contrast, worship is the language of freedom.
Formation isn’t about working to become someone for Christ. It’s what happens as you trust in who Jesus already is for you.
That’s the radical shift: replacing “become like Jesus” with the work and will of God according to Jesus: “to believe in the one He has sent” (John 6:28-29).
Which is how we replace stages with tables. Pulpits with porches. Membership programs with meals. Expectations with encouragement.
That’s worship.
So what is worship?
Worship is getting used to our home being hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3).
It’s running home with no speech prepared and finding your Father already sprinting toward you (Luke 15:20–24).
“It’s losing the parachute, falling through the sky, and realizing the whole time—you are held.” (Jameson Allen)
Worship is not groveling.
Not pacifying.
Not performing.
Worship is the freedom to breathe.
To laugh.
To dance.
To sing.
To nap.
Jesus said He would draw all people to Himself (John 12:32).
He has.
He is.
He will.
Because if all things are reconciled in Him, then what else is left but to raise the glass, break the bread, tell the story, and pass it on?
This is worship.